More nappies...

A couple of weeks ago I wrote that I was now a dab hand at changing nappies. Clearly I tempted fate with this rather self-congratulatory statement as Harry has now decided to tear up the rule book.

Let me explain. I’m used to Harry lying on his back and co-operating while I’m changing him. In recent weeks he’s learned how to roll onto his side but while this made the process a little more tricky, it was still manageable.

Now, however, he’s learned how to roll onto his front. This makes it nigh on impossible to change him quickly. What’s more, he spends five minutes rolling onto his tummy, followed by a further five minutes trying to crawl before giving up and screaming.

At this point, I turn him back over and the whole process begins again immediately while I try and wrestle Harry into his nappy.

As you can probably imagine, it becomes particularly tricky if you’re dealing with a full nappy.

To complicate matters further, Harry has now started eating pureed vegetables – carrot, broccoli and the like. Without going in to the gory details, this makes full nappies a far more daunting prospect.

On a happier note, though, Harry seems to be enjoying all this new food. As well as baby rice and vegetables, he’s also eating porridge and yoghurts. Feeding him is relatively easy because he’s so keen.

In fact, the only problem is he sometimes gets too excited trying to grab the spoon and, if you’re not careful, you can end up covered in food; believe me, it’s not a good look when you turn up for an important meeting with baby rice down your trousers.
At least Harry’s swimming is coming on. His latest visit was a much more relaxed affair and he appeared to enjoy it – we even managed to get him dressed and out of the changing rooms without a tantrum. Believe me, it felt like a major victory.

Bonding?

Like all new parents, I want to form a strong father-and-son bond with Harry. However, I think my efforts in this direction have suffered a bit of a knock in recent weeks.

Firstly, I went along to the doctor’s with Harry for his second round of injections. Melissa had taken Harry for his first set a few weeks earlier and he was, by all accounts, pretty upset at the whole experience.

So this time, I went along as well. By the time we’d walked to the surgery, Harry was fast asleep, so you can imagine the nasty shock he got when he woke up to find a smiling nurse jabbing a long needle into the top of his leg. Poor Harry looked heartbroken and, judging by the look in his eyes, he didn’t think much of me for allowing it to happen.

Anyway, I’ve since spent plenty of time trying to rebuild Harry’s trust in me – only to undermine all the good work by taking him swimming.

Things started pretty well. We took Harry to Plas Madoc for the excellent parent and paddler session on a Sunday morning. We bought the necessary inflatable, popped Harry in it and he seemed quite happy bobbing up and down in the water.

Then the wave machine started; Harry was almost instantly submerged by a wave which caught both of us by surprise. Fortunately, Melissa was on hand to pick up the pieces and Harry was soon back to his smiling self – albeit with his trust in me once again thoroughly undermined.

We’re definitely going to persist with the swimming, though, because Harry did seem to enjoy it for the most part. Next time, when the wave machine siren goes, I’ll be a little more careful.

Am I going soft?

I’VE been getting a bit of stick recently from one or two people who think I’ve gone soft since Harry arrived.

I know this because, during a recent visit to The Trap, one of the regulars, Wyn, told me to stop turning into a woman and start writing about Wrexham Football Club instead. I think he was joking – and anyway, there’s not much to say about events at The Racecourse at the moment, except that I sincerely hope things improve next year.

But Wyn’s comment got me thinking. Have I gone soft now that I’m a parent? Well, I’m not sure. Since having Harry, my whole outlook on life has certainly shifted – I now worry about feeds, baby changing facilities, the ease with which pushchairs fold, and whether we’ve got enough nappies. Naturally enough Harry is number one on my list of priorities. My music collection has also expanded – somewhat against my will – and you’re now as likely to catch me listening to nursery rhymes as Ryan Adams or Radiohead.

Having said all that, I’m still interested in life’s little essentials – a good pint of real ale, Wrexham FC and, of course, cricket – it’s just that they have to fit in with Harry.

Both Melissa and I are starting to relax a bit more now after the initial shock of parenthood. We’ve even left him with the grandparents a couple of times, which was initially a little nerve-wracking but does get easier.

Thankfully, Harry is still a very good baby. As long as he’s fed regularly, he rarely cries (as long as you don’t try and dress him) and he’s usually quite happy bouncing around in his little chair – at least this helps me feel less guilty when we do leave him behind.

Having said that, when we have left Harry, we’ve found ourselves talking about him most of the time anyway; I’m still not sure either of us can quite believe we’re responsible for creating something so, well, amazing.

So maybe I am going soft after all, although I’d rather think of it as becoming a more rounded human being if it’s all the same to you.

Growing up fast

I can’t believe how quickly Harry is changing. The other day I came across some pictures taken shortly after he was born and it’s incredible how much his features have changed and developed already.

I’ve started to notice other changes too. Harry’s now discovered that he controls his hands and he’s becoming quite adept at using them to throw his dummy around, take off his own bib and grab his blanket while attempting to eat it.

Then there are the other, less obvious changes. He’s now much more aware of his surroundings and his eyes follow me when I enter or leave a room (although he still gets far more excited if he spots Melissa).

But Harry’s also decided he doesn’t like some things – and he doesn’t mind letting us know. Two things in particular seem to upset him.

The first is getting dressed in a morning. He’s absolutely fine until you try and put anything on over his head (T-shirt, vest, and so on). Even if he’s been smiling happily for the previous hour, as soon as his head is covered – even for a second – he screams. And boy does he scream. In fact, he screams so much he can hardly breathe, which was pretty scary the first time it happened.

The other major problem in Harry’s life is his car seat. He hates it. As soon as he is put in the seat, he cries, screams and refuses stop until we’ve driven at least two miles in the car.

Melissa says it’s just a phase and he’ll grow out of it soon. I hope she’s right because all the crying has started to make me a bit forgetful– last weekend I managed to get him into his car seat without waking him and was so excited, I almost drove off without Melissa. For once, Harry and his car seat were the least of my troubles.

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.