How to Survive a Holiday with a Baby

Despite our mega-journey we actually had a lovely holiday in Spain. Here are some top tips I’ve garnered to help you make the most of your vacation with your horror.

 

1. Go self-catered.

This one was key for me. We stayed in a lovely villa with my parents and two of their friends. We had a fully equipped kitchen for me to prepare meals and snacks for the Baby. Jetlag plus the fact that the little guy is a touch high maintenance means he is not always on everyone else’s meal schedules, especially not the southern Spanish’s. I’d have hated rushing round trying to find somewhere open not full of smokers in the 8 and a half minutes we have between the Baby letting us know he’s hungry and a full meltdown ensuing.

We also had an outdoor eating area and portable highchair so he could throw three meals a day on the floor without any waiters glaring at me.

An added bonus was our villa came with it’s own pool. No getting up at the crack of dawn to grab a sunbed. No carrying three million things to take the baby swimming for 15 minutes and then trying to remember to take it all back again. Bliss. Plus the mummies could jump in for a quick swim and cheeky cocktail during mojito time nap time.

We were lucky enough to have help with the accommodation from my parents  but house swapping and/or sharing a villa with friends is a great way to keep holiday costs down. Self catering is much cheaper than eating out for every meal for two weeks too.

2. Go with back up.

Lets face it, time spent with a one year old is not relaxing, and never will be. To combat this I recommend holidaying with other people who don’t yet know what spending hours and hours with a 1 year old is like. Top of my list would be grandparents who haven’t seen the baby for a few months and friends of a grandparent-ing age who don’t have grandchildren of their own and would like to borrow yours for a few hours. Gleefully hand him over and retreat inside for a siesta.

3. Go for a routine.

Ours came about naturally. He mostly had his meals at 7, 12 and 6. He napped around 9 and 1. He slept from 6.30-7.00pm. All these times were a little flexible and there were days where he missed naps but overall it made life easier. During the day at least. The little terror still hasn’t figured out sleeping through the night.

4. Go out and about.

Loads of fun things to do and explore in a new place. All that stimulation is bound to wear out your tot and bring cocktail hour (aka bedtime) on a little faster.

5. Go for it.

We’ve put off going on holiday for ages as I thought it would just be a struggle but I really enjoyed myself. Might even consider another little trip in the next few months…if someone figures out teleportation by then.

 What are your tips for enjoying a holiday with kids?

My 19 Babies

With a huge sigh of relief I am happy to report that our evacuation of our 19 embryos from Thailand was a success. Our future baby making prospects are safely out of the government’s hands, tucked in nicely to a freezer in Madrid.

A few people who I have told have teased me about us potentially having 20 children total. Can you imagine?

Um…yeah…nope. The more mathematically minded of you may have noticed I couldn’t even bring myself to draw 20 children.

Don’t worry, world. I am not about to inflict 20 of my spawn upon you. Even if reality TV has a sudden space in it’s scheduling.

How to Fly with a Baby

We have returned from our mega journey to Spain. Please allow me to share with you some of the wisdom I collected on our 22 hour, 3 plane journey.

1. Pack your hand luggage lightly and strategically.

 

Needless to say we failed epically on this count and had to lug three tons of stuff through every security checkpoint. We were prepared for every eventuality though.

2. Begin or end your journey from an Asian country, preferably Thailand.

This might not be the most practical advice for your holiday but I stand by it. I avoided immigration and security queues (which were significant) both on the way in and out. In Suvarnabhumi airport, the baby and I was ushered into an empty security room where pleasant officers even helped me repack my bags.

 

3. Remember that the person carrying the baby through customs also needs to carry the milk.

As the Baby and I swanned, stress-free through priority security the Mummy was left in the regular line fighting to keep our 10 cartons of milk we had packed for our mammoth trip. Thankfully a sympathetic, parent security guard took pity on her. Phew.

4. Allow the baby to play on the floor for the hour after you board before you take off.

It’s nice getting on before everyone else and getting settled but it does mean that you’re on an hour before a long haul flight begins to taxi. Don’t make our mistake and get everyone buckled in too early.

5. Sleep when the baby sleeps.

Because you sure as heck wont be sleeping when he’s awake.

6. Prepare witty come backs for people who are mean about your baby.

A woman sitting near us with her baby was heard to admonish her fellow passenger with a loudly proclaimed: ‘My baby’s crying isn’t nearly as annoying as your snoring!’. The female passenger immediately ceased her sighing and tutting.

7. Know that your baby will choose the most inconvenient time to poop.

Ever tried to get out of the row when everyone has their meals on their tray tables in front of them? Try doing that with a grabby, poonami baby tucked under your arm.

8. Try to plan your first stop to be with family so you have something to look forward to.

Have you attempted a mega journey with kids? What advice would you offer?

The Mama and the Mummy’s Three Year Anniversary

A rare soppy one- apologies. Toilet humor will resume tomorrow.

 

To the Mummy,

When we met four years ago I don’t think either of us realized we were starting something big. I’ll bet you didn’t look at that too tall, drunk, Scottish girl and realize she was about to attach herself to you and follow you around for the rest of her days.

Judging by the shock on your face and the fact I had to repeat what I said a couple of times I’d guess you weren’t expecting me to propose after 6 months, or for us to be having a Civil Partnership ceremony at the British Embassy in Vietnam 6 months after that.

When we had that drunken first dance and I spent the whole thing trying to work up the courage to kiss you, you wouldn’t have imagined our baby would be born a few days after our second anniversary.

Here we find ourselves at our third anniversary. I didn’t know when we met that I had just met my best friend. The gorgeous Thai girl I thought was out of my league didn’t look like someone who I’d see every day for the next four years. I didn’t know yet how great a mum you’d be or that I wouldn’t want to share my life with anyone else.

I’ve never been as happy as I have in the last four years and I have you to thank for that. I love you so much and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you.

Love from the Mama

Baby Number Two

On the rare occasions the Baby stops screaming and has an angelic moment, or when I’m out and about and spot a brand new baby, my uterus aches.

As I’m sure you’re aware the baby making process isn’t as simple for us as chucking the birth control and jumping in the hay. Creating a sibling for the Baby would require a little more planning and, unfortunately, money.

My wife and I have made tentative plans to relocate to Europe next year. We had made even more tentative plans to try another round of IVF here before we left. If the Baby hadn’t convinced us one child was more than enough before then. Which is a possibility.

After a few negative splashes in the international press regarding IVF treatment the government here has decided it had better be seen to do something.

From the 28th of this month it will be illegal for me to use the frozen embryos I have in storage as the government has decided that from now on only straight married couples can receive IVF treatment. Furthermore they have ruled that after that date genetic material cannot be taken out of the country.

Cue a mad scramble through the internet trying to find someone to rescue my 19 potential babies before the cut off. We were presented with two options:

1. Start again in Europe- more fertility drugs wreaking havoc in my body and a 10,000 euro price tag.

or

2. 2,000 euros to ship and store the embryos, no time line on when we want to try again and 1,200 euros for another attempt.

We’ve gone for option two. Due to the late notice we’re going to be cutting it close to the wire and my anxiety levels are rising daily. Despite the fact that we are talking about my genetic material obtained legally with a ton of my cash I still feel like I’m doing something dodgy and wrong.

Wish my little eggos luck and a save journey winging their way to sunny Spain!

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Sugar-Free Diet Insanity

A few days ago I decided to put myself on a sugar/dairy/grain free diet for a couple of weeks.

I’m a terrible calorie counter and I can’t cope with anything complicated or anything involving maths..or thinking (especially when I am hangry*). We’re pretty tight for cash so fancy paid plans weren’t going to work. Plus I used this diet to lose 3 stones in 6 month after University, which I didn’t gain back so I have a little faith in it.

The first few days are the hardest. I have written before about my snack addiction and it’s the sugar that I miss first. Especially when I have to watch the Mummy and the Baby scoffing something I can’t have (whilst silently cursing them and muttering under my breath).

I sit and fantasize about that Organix banana biscuit the Baby has tightly clutched in his fist. I want it soooo bad. It looks delicious and no one would need to know. I don’t think it even has sugar so it wouldn’t even be cheating…

 

Don’t worry, I restrained myself. The Baby’s biscuit is safe…today.

 

How have you fared with diets? What the most effective/easiest one you’ve tried?

*hangry: When one has reached the point of hunger which has a negative effect on their mood and causes them to behave irrationally and with bouts of fury. Hungry/angry- hangry.

A Lesbian Mother’s Nightmare

 

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Photographing a Baby

I am terrible for remembering to take photos of the Baby. I have a big, very nice camera that takes lovely shots but its main use at the moment is working as a scanner for my dodgy blog illustrations.

Today we decided to take the Baby to one of those 3D art show things. You know, a selfie taker’s wet dream. Not that the Mummy or I are avid selfie takers. I think for that you need some self esteem.

Anyway, knowing there would be a plethora of baby photo taking opportunities I decided to haul along the big camera.

The main problem with any outing is that we live quite far out from the city- an hours drive on a rare, light traffic day. We waited until the wailing from upstairs signified the end of the Baby’s first nap and then hastily hit the road.

By the time we arrived in the city it was lunch time. The Baby was on good form, chowing down on cheesy pizza bread and winking at the woman sitting alone at the table next to us. He managed to sit nicely for the whole meal, which was extra long as the Mummy was eating like she was wearing dentures due to a surprise wisdom tooth extraction the day before.

The bad news was by the time we arrived at the art thingmy it was nearing the Baby’s second nap. But we pushed on.

I got busy with the camera. For the first 20 minutes or so it was fun.  The place was empty which meant we could be stupid with the art work without an audience and, even better, there was no one in the HUMUNGOUS ball pit we discovered half way round. Then it was monotonous and the Baby was over it so we rushed through the last section.

And the photos? I learned a few things:

• Trying to position a mobile baby for 3D art is like trying to thread a needle with a worm.
• Trying to take non-blurry shots of a mobile baby is also beyond me.
• A baby will afford you approximately 30 seconds to get your shot, then they are moving on.
• For a baby past his nap that time is much much shorter.
• People will judge and tut if you let your baby crawl around the (impressively clean) floor of the art exhibition. Especially if they are crawling while their caregivers are taking stupid photos of each other.
• Watching your baby literally dive head first into a huge, deep ball pit is hilarious but your wife might not see the humor.

 

A fun day was had by all but it made me really miss the immobile baby shoots.

 

 

 

 

 

The Cost of Making Memories

Purple fabric dye: $2

Another purple fabric dye when the first doesn’t work: $1

Fabric paint $1

Four pairs of socks: $2

A t-shirt for when the cruddy socks don’t dye: free

A stained onesie: free

Four big plastic bottles: free

Metallic spray paint: $2

Four meters of ribbon: $2

Two pieces of black card: 50 cents

A needle and purple thread: 20 cents

Soft toy stuffing: free (found in cupboard, no idea where it came from)

Black shorts and t-shirts x2: free

Drinking straws: free

Goggles: free

Hours spent dyeing clothes, painting bottles, stuffing and sewing, painting clothes, sticking bottles together and making straps: too many to count.

 

Looking like a pillock but having fun at your first fancy dress party as a family: priceless.

PS. ‘Eight is a lot of legs, David’ which is why our little octopus has four. Clearly if you count his limbs plus the additional purple ones there are eight. It totally had nothing to do with the fact I couldn’t face trying to sew on eight. Honest.

Who’s his real mum?

I don’t mind being asked ‘Who’s his mum?’. Maybe the questioner doesn’t realize we’re a couple. Perhaps they are surprised I could be so lucky as to wind up with such a hot woman to share my life with. Perhaps they think I’m a friend just tagging along to help my buddy with her baby.

I don’t mind people asking ‘Who’s his father?’ because they probably don’t know that we use the term ‘donor’ and again, people are curious. I am nosy about other people too…although I tend to wonder silently.

‘Who’s his real mum?’ is different though. I take it to mean that the questioner has understood there are two mums in this equation and is dismissing or downgrading one of us, purposefully or not. So here’s the response I’ve been working on for the next available opportunity:

What do you think?