The Wheels on the Bus..

Now that Baby D has reached the grand old age of 13 ½ weeks he is slightly less time consuming than he used to be, although like the Irish weather that could change at any moment and the outlook remains unreliable.
Anyway, taking advantage of longer intervals between feeds, I actually made it out to dinner with some friends last week. I can’t remember the last time I looked forward to an evening out so much and as I got the bus into town I felt like I was going on a very big adventure, which started me thinking of previous exciting bus journeys I’d taken over the years. There was the creaky, over-crowded, over-heated one I’d take to Laois when I was in College, taking 3 hours to get past the hitchers on Newlands Cross but for only 6 pounds return I didn’t care; the mad buses in Thailand, packed with people, chickens and machetes that I thought were the ultimate of crazy transport until I rode the local buses in Peru. Now, as Baby D allowed me out for the first time on my own in, let me see, approximately 13 ½ weeks, the 37 bus from Aughrim St to Dame St seemed adventure enough for me last week.
It may have been the thrill of being back on public transport again but I got to thinking how things have changed in the last 12-18 months or as we’ve started to call it BD (Before baby D) and AD (After baby D).


BD A tough challenge: Hiking the Inca Trail battling stomach issues
AD A tough challenge: Driving to Celbridge for lunch with Baby D in tow – took 8 weeks before I was brave enough for this one

BD Had cuddled lots of baby kittens, puppies, guinea pigs, pigs, calves, foals…(you get the drift) but never held a baby human
AD Can not only hold a crying baby in one hand but can simultaneously butter toast, get dressed and update Facebook status with the other

BD Going to the gym was a regular occurrence, although a bit of a chore
AD Going to the gym is a rare treat away from the flat and looked forward to eagerly

BD Singing ‘Jingle Bells’ while floating in the Indian Ocean, squinting in the sun waiting for Dolphins to swim over
AD Has Christmas been and gone? What do you mean it’s 2010 already????

BD Getting ready to go out, a leisurely affair usually involving some new clothes and a glass of wine
AD Going out????

BD Lots of weekend trips away. If Ryanair knew what the word meant we’d have a loyalty card
AD A weekend away a challenge of epic proportions that I haven’t been brave enough to tackle yet (and that’s not even thinking about taking a flight)

BD If don’t get a full 8 hours sleep a night very, very grumpy in the morning
AD If don’t get a full 8 hours sleep a night very, very grumpy in the morning

BD Thought the term ‘baby brain’ was one of those annoying sound-bite phrases like ‘Breakfast Roll Man’
AD Brain officially atrophied from too many hormones and not enough sleep– in fact have a ghost writer updating this blog

BD Babies loud, smelly and annoying
AD Babies in general loud, smelly and annoying; fortunately we found one that’s cute, lovable and utterly adorable..awwwwww

The future's so bright I've gotta wear shades

Remember the quote from Rolling Stone writer Jon Landau, “I’ve seen the future of rock n’ roll and it’s name is Bruce Springsteen”? It came to mind the other day when Baby D and myself went to the Visitors Centre in the Phoenix Park for Sunday lunch; just us and every other family within a 5 mile radius. I found myself surrounded by kids of every shape and size climbing, crying, shouting, running, laughing, snotting, galloping, falling, pulling, pushing, tantruming… all very, very LOUDLY.
When the ringing in my ears stopped I realised that I’ve also seen the future. It’s not rock n’ roll, more like rattle and howl, and is just a very teensy little bit scary……..

Pregnancy Zen

When I told my best friend that I was pregnant she advised me to make the most of any attention I’d get (seats being surrendered, doors held open and the like), as when the baby was born, people would be so enraptured by the bundle of joy that they’d never look twice at me again.
In actual fact people’s baby obsession started as soon as my bump became visible. As my tummy grew week by week, I began to realise what it’s like to have big boobs with people no longer making eye contact but directing their gaze lower down. My bump also seemed to license a commentary on my body that for some reason is acceptable if you’re pregnant but totally rude if not. Delete as appropriate: “Isn’t your bump/butt/boobs/little finger ever so fat/neat/huge/pointy!” No matter what the comment was, it was often accompanied by knowing looks and dire warnings about the last trimester (“Wait until the last month -you’ll be so much more huger/heavier/fatter then!”) and in case that wasn’t scary enough, about subsequent pregnancies (“Well you’re grand now, but you’ll be so much fatter/huger/etc etc for the second.”)
And then there was the touching. I had heard rumours about this before falling pregnant and being protective of my personal space I anticipated that my instinct would be to resurrect my Taekwondo skills and swat the offender away if anyone attempted to touch my tummy. Strangely, as my belly became a magnet to be touched and rubbed (even before a bump was noticeable), I didn’t have the heart to rebuff their advances. Maybe it was due to hormones but people’s faces softened as they went in for the belly touch, as if they were patting a cute little kitten. By month nine I accepted my lot and felt like a lucky Buddha.
Now that Baby D is no longer a bump and is here in the flesh I discovered that my friend was right; the attention has totally shifted and now I’m barely noticed. So much so that I could probably shave my head and dress like a Hare Krishna and my Mother wouldn’t bat an eyelid if Baby D were in my arms.
Of course what my friend neglected to add was that most days I sport bags under my eyes that would warrant additional charges if I were to fly on Ryanair and the nearest I get to accessorising my wardrobe is a sticky mix of milk and dribble trailing down my shoulder. So being ignored, I don’t mind at all!