Pushchairs and dog mess

Becoming a parent presents many challenges. Some of these are quite straightforward, such as changing nappies; others are more testing, such as how to stop your baby screaming while trying to pay for your shopping in a busy supermarket.

But for me, one of the most eye-opening has been learning to push the pram.

I know it doesn’t sound too problematic but I’d never appreciated just how difficult it is even to get into some shops.

And when you can get in, it’s amazing how narrow the aisles are in some places – I’ve also lost count of the number of people I’ve had to apologise to after accidentally bumping into them while trying to negotiate a particularly tricky special offer display.

The problems don’t end there. Dog mess is a real issue – there’s nothing more annoying than rushing into the house with a hungry baby only to find you’ve left a stinking trail of muck behind you.

Then there are those people who think it’s ok to park their cars across the pavement, leaving you with no choice but to walk on a busy road. It’s not only inconsiderate, it’s also downright dangerous.

But it’s not all bad news. While walking across Chirk Aqueduct last Sunday, we were approached by a dog walker asking if we had any spare nappy bags. “I’ve left my bags at home and I think my dog’s about to go to the toilet,’ she explained.

At least that’s one less pile of dog dirt for me to avoid.

Progress...

THIS week has been a week of major progress. Harry has started sleeping through the night.

I’ve said before that we’ve been lucky with Harry. After the first couple of weeks, he settled into a routine of just one night feed, which was certainly manageable and far better than I expected.

To be honest, the night feeds weren’t too bad (although Melissa might well have a different perspective given that I was only doing two nights a week – Friday and Saturday – compared to her five).

These feeds always seemed to follow a similar pattern: wake to the sound of Harry crying/grumbling; fumble round for a bottle in the dark; drop the bottle on my foot; swear; battle to get the bib round Harry’s neck; give up; then, finally, feed while trying to keep my eyes open.

Thankfully Harry had usually fallen asleep before the end of the bottle so, after winding him of course, he’d be back in his cot and I’d be asleep again within the hour.

But last Tuesday Harry slept through the night without feeding. We put him down at half nine and, although he did stir a couple of times, he didn’t wake up for a feed until about just after six the next morning.

I must admit, I thought it might just be a one-off but, sure enough, the following night he slept through again.
It was one of those too-good-to-be-true moments and Melissa and I are still celebrating more than a week later.

I’ve heard stories from friends about babies who sleep through the night almost from the word go. While that would have been nice, 13 weeks of night feeds isn’t bad. Now if I can just train him to have a lie in at the weekend…

List mania

Melissa’s fond of saying she lost a few brain cells when she had Harry (or words to that effect, anyway). While I’m sure this isn’t the case, Melissa insists she has become more forgetful since Harry was born and, as a result, I’ve noticed a significant increase in the number of lists dotted around house.

Of course, having a baby does tend to put things in perspective and, naturally, Harry’s wellbeing is our top priority; everything else can wait. Or so I thought.

Since Harry was born, I’ve found these lists everywhere. Melissa’s become so organised, she’s even started using the calendar on the computer to help her keep track of what’s going on and when.

Lately, though, the lists have taken on a more worrying dimension: jobs around the house. That I haven’t done.

So far, there are about 10 things I haven’t got round to tackling, including replacing fence panels at the bottom of the garden, putting up a new washing line, and fixing a wardrobe.

While they don’t sound particularly onerous tasks, since Harry arrived, I’ve found myself so wrapped up spending time with him– going for walks and so on – that I haven’t managed to get any jobs done at home.

Unfortunately, this excuse is starting to wear thin; Melissa wants these jobs done, and quickly.So I’m going to have to learn how to get my jobs done while still spending time with Harry.

It’s almost like multitasking – which as any woman will tell you is beyond most men. I’ll let you know how I get on.

Having a baby's good for your health

MAKE no mistake, life with a baby can be a challenge. I was reminded of this last Friday night when Harry filled his nappy while happily bouncing around in his little play-chair.

The result was, well, messy. He’d managed to get poo everywhere – from his armpits to his toes. Now I thought I was pretty good at dealing with dirty nappies but Harry succeeded in making me think again.

Anyway, a rather hurried bath later, normality was restored and I could go back to finishing my tea.

Despite these little episodes, I’d still tell anyone that Harry is the best thing to happen to me.

It’s even beneficial to your fitness. Take Melissa, for instance. Since Harry was born, she’s been walking almost every day.

According to her trusty pedometer, she clocked up more than 36 miles in one week alone. That’s got to be good for you; Melissa’s certainly no couch potato but there’s no way she’d have walked 36 miles in a week before Harry was born.

And it’s not as if having a baby means your social life has to end. Last Saturday, my brother and his wife visited from Nottingham. Usually when my brother visits, we spend all afternoon – and evening – in the pub, drinking.

Of course, having a 12-week old baby means things have to change.

So, instead of going straight to the pub, we went for a walk across Chirk aqueduct, took in some wonderful scenery and bracing fresh air, before stopping for a drink at our friendly local, The Trap (or Bridge Inn, as it’s officially called).

We didn’t stop long, just long enough for a couple of well-earned afternoon drinks – all that fresh air works up a thirst – before heading back up the hill for a takeaway.

So there you have it; don’t let anyone tell you that being a parent is all hard work, even if you do have to deal with the odd dirty nappy.

Smile...

I’ve been trying to avoid sounding too gushing about my son, Harry, in this column.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Firstly, I don’t want my colleagues to think I’ve suddenly gone all soft – that would never do. Secondly, I have been known to complain about proud parents boring people with stories about their amazing offspring.

This week, though, I am going to sound gushing. The reason? Harry’s started to smile. He’s now nine weeks old and is starting to grow up – to my eyes at least – incredibly quickly.

Not only is he heavier – he was 13lb 7oz this week – his features are developing, including his eyebrows which are, apparently, already starting to resemble mine (‘slugs’, Melissa calls them).

Harry’s also started to stay awake between feeds and is now learning how to smile.

It’s an incredible experience watching your child smile at you for the first time. Admittedly it’s usually followed by a scream but, for those precious few seconds, all the usual worries associated with being a new parent disappear.

So trying to get Harry to smile has now become my favourite pastime (even Pro Evolution on the Xbox doesn’t get a look-in these days).

Unfortunately I’ve also discovered that generally he only responds when I talk in a ridiculously high-pitched voice and pull silly faces. Our poor postman must wonder what on earth is going on when he walks past the window.
Perhaps Harry’s doing it on purpose – making dad look silly might be his way of getting his own back for all that nappy changing.

Either way, being silly’s never been so much fun.