he he he. back again.

Off for a short break in the mountains. When i return...what have Swiss cheese and pregnant ladies got in common? And dont get me started on Cuckoo clocks..

Beer and a Baby?

It may surprise you to learn that a close friend of mine recently gave birth. It may surprise you even more to learn that this friend was not a woman. And the surprises just keep coming when I tell you that he did not begat, shall we say, a baby?

You see, my dear friend did in fact gave birth to a rather small Greek kebab. With a side order of salad and extra hot chilli sauce. This at least was the strange scene that confronted me when I called round his house ( as a future father to be I was actually excited ) to see the baby born just two days earlier.

Un beknown to me, and of course most of the male half of the species, many women have shall we say 'minor complications' after giving birth. Nothing life threatening of course, just the occasional ripped anus..

So anyway..I called around expecting to see Dad, Mother and baby all enjoying their first night of family bliss and what do I see? The scene shall best be described as follows:

External house, early evening..
Me: Standing outside front door (double glazed). Ringing bell. Twice.
Me: Still standing outside front door. Ringing bell. Thrice.*
Me: Notice car at front of house and light on. Well they should be in. Ooo, I'll just peek through the blinds.
Internal House, same time..
Friend: Sitting back in sofa. Large white tray in hand. Appears to be filled with brown gloss paint. Flaking paint.
Friend: Now leans forward and takes a delicious swig from a can. Of Stella. Pieces of brown stuff are picked by hand and dangled above mouth before being lowered into orifice.
External house..
Me: Drool.
Internal House..
Friend: Notices strange shape through blinds. Jumps to feet spilling some red sauce and precious Stella.
External house..
Me: Drool.
internal house..
Friend: recognizes myself. Displays a huge and cheesy grin while waving plastic tray at window.
External house..
Me: Let me in then. Twat.

I enter said house and we embrace like Mediterranean cousins, whether this is from the sense of kinship we share as fathers (to be) or from the Stella I don't discover.
'So then, is the Mrs feeding the little 'un then?'
'Er...how the fuck would I know?' replies my Stella warmed friend slurrily.
' hmm..coz your the Dad. Let me see the baby,I'm desperate to.' (this was true)
'Wha'? visiting finished two hours ago man! They wont even let Dads in ya daft bastard!'

Realisation, like a rolling sunrise, dawns.
'Aaaaah! She's still in hospital! Ohhh. Is everything you know OK?'
'OK? To fucking right its OK! Listen mate, by my reckoning I have one maybe two nights for about the next say, 16 yrs where I can eat a kebab while drinking Stella in me underpants! I tell you I've never felt better!'
'But mate, you cant get pissed. What if you get a call , what if you have to go straight to hospital?'
'Aye bollocks. I know. That's why I put me pants back on'...

I just cant make it up..
* Frankly I don't care. Its my blog so thrice goes in.

A Note on a Scan.

Radiowaves. 2D.4D.3D? In today's modern age there are more ways to view your baby in the womb than there are glass bottom boats on the Med.
We all get two scans free of charge. Quiet at the back pls..They are not bad really, if a little grainy and only in black and white. Then came the 3D scan, a scan which gives a lifelike snapshot of your 'babe to be' in the womb. Amazing. It just couldn't get any better.

But it did, next came 4D, a Moving DVD type scan that lets you see the baby in motion! When we heard that 4D scans were available I proudly informed my Mrs that is was quite clearly a scan that allowed you to travel back in time to see the babys conception* in the womb. Or that beamed you forward to the actual delivery.( Just imagine that...' Oh darling ,look, that's how your vaginal tear will look...')

Putting my Star trek education behind me ( I was sure that's what the fourth dimension was..) I started to see exactly how one could go about getting one of these modern miracles. Quite easily as it happens. By parting with about two hundred quid.

Now, I can hear some of you saying, 'Two hundred? that's not bad you know. And you get to keep the DVD for the kid to watch.' Well, yeah your right, but do you really need to pay two hundred sheets just to see what everyone gets to see in about 4 months anyway? And what are you going to do? 'Oh he looks just like his Dad'....I don't think so. By the time the little blighter squeezes his way out of your birth canal and emerges with a red , swollen face and a pointy head you wont think he's the picture of anyone anymore.

Perhaps after all this technology was created by clandestine governments to watch for Alien impregnations. 'Oh here he is Mr X, you can just make out his face here, his eyes, here's his lovely nose, and this appears to be some sort of transmission device to the mother ship. Security..'

Or what about the ultimate Gag. You get a computer whiz to mock up a special effects DVD then a cooperative Doctor to go along with the Gag..
Doctor - ' Ah here now Ms Jenkins. Watch the screen to your left and you will soon see a clear image of you child'
Ms - 'Oh , beautifull is that his back coming into view?..'
Doctor- 'Aha. No that's the top of his head. And oh my it appears to be inscribed with...666. How amazing. And oh the joy, look he's even got a small hoof..'

Oh the fun we could have..
Coming soon - So why are we getting one then?
* Conception inside the womb. The external view is widely available and is known as Porn.

The Great Baby Information Swindle ( continued )..

So from those auspicious early conversations life soon settled into a far more regular type of pattern. Or did it..

You see , looking through the afore mentioned baby tome we realised that there is a wealth of contrasting information available to the everyday parents. One major decision you have to take fairly early on in your pregnancy is if you would like to know what sex your baby is. This one factor will more than any other change the outcome of the rest of your life.

You see...Its a bit like Marmite this one. You have the one camp who say ' Oh No! You cant! It spoils the mystery!' And the other that says ' Oh its so much simpler, you can pick the name, pick the paint for the nursery ( partners pls note...They pick not paint the colour..that my friend is your job)it takes away the worry'.

Now I could blather on about how we decided not to find out the sex of our baby- to- be because we are good old fashioned romantics who believe in the mystery of life...but that would of course be Bollocks. Of course we are finding out the sex! Who fuckin doesn't, whats the point of not knowing?

The reason people think it would be nice not to know is that they hold on to the ' great surprise' . great surprise come on guys...what about whats best for humanity? Just imagine what better shape the world would be in if people had always had the option of finding out:

Hitler had an older brother, his Mam and Dad must have been gagging for a girl. Heres the scene..shhhh..
Deutschland circa1902.
Doctor - ' Ya Frau Hitler you are expekting again for zure' *
Frau Hiter - ' Oh I knew I Knew! Boris I hope its a Girl zis time'
Herr Hitler Snr - 'Ya me to! One little Hitler is more than enough'
Doctor - ' Vell, I can in fact tell you..'
Frau - Oh pleaze pleaze..'
Doctor - ' OK itz a Boy, a little Boy....maybe with a tazsh'
Herr-' Scheisen. He will be nothing but trouble. Whip him out now Doktor and spare us all'

Indeed. And imagine this..

Souf east Engerland circa 1975..
Doctor - 'Yes Ms, you do have a healthy baby'
Ms - ' Awww...great not anava bloody one'
Doctor - ' Would you like to know the sex?'
Ms- ' Errrrr, errrrr, awight, but I really need a little boy so he can look after his muva'
Doctor - ' Well it s a girl Ms Goody'
Ms- ' Aww.. what are my options doc..'

So you see my Friends. The next time you think of the mystery of the birth, think about the tyrants and the turds. Ask the fuckin sex.
* im tryin..

Day 2 of blog.

The Great Baby Information Swindle.

T-O-P-S-E-C-R-E-T-F-Y-E-O

OK, so now Im a Dad. There that's it. The wife grows steadily bigger for the next few months. I do a bit of cuddling, lots of 'Awww love its ok', ' No, you look lovely...Honestly'. A final few sleepfull nights and precious unplanned meals out with trips to the cinema. Easy. Hey presto , bobs your uncle and out she ( or he ) Pops in around 9 months.

'Ah ha.Ha ha ha. Aha hahahahaha.AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!' Evil laughter. Cackles. You see dear reader, even after this short period of pregnancy drama, I realise that the dream of the 'blokes 9 months off' is just that. One lovely, never to be realised, dream.

It started with the grandparents to be (GTB). On hearing our news they were of course highly delighted, full of the usual 'ooooooo' 'aaaaaaaaaaaarrrr!' ' how exciting' etc..( note the absence of any 'oh you poor bastard' from the Grandfathers. Now that would have been an honest response..) Then came the first dilemma in the Great Baby Information Swindle ( patent pending) 'Oh Yes' Says GTB 1 'you must drink lots of peppermint tea'. ' Oh yes' says GTB 2 'And ginger biscuits'. (GTB 3 and 4 stay sadly silent on the advice I was hoping to here- involving myself having to consume Kebabs and quaff large ales. Really? Peppermint tea?)

'Oh yes, peppermint tea is good for cramps. No wait its for the itchy skin. That's why you drink it love' GTB 1 reliably informs the Mrs.
'Oooo yeah' chips in GTB 2 'and don't forget to avoid nuts. And no more wine!'
'But I ate nuts and drank just last week before I knew I was pregnant' replies the Mrs, clearly starting to worry ( Whether more about the lack of wine or nuts I fail to discover..)
'Oh, er Oh I shouldn't worry' laughs GTB 1 nervously.
This has plainly failed to to make the Mrs 'not worry', in fact she has I notice started to chew her bottom lip. Never a good sign and usually preceding a tongue lashing for myself.
'Quick Ron' she Barks 'Get The Book'.

The Book is a heavyweight pregnancy bible bought for the price of a small national debt at a local book store. I carry the tome over in both hands and present this Bible to her.

'You Look' she says, 'I feel tired'.

Fighting the sceptical look I will surely give her over the coming months ( tired? Its only a book) I turn to the index. Right...n...nuts. Nuts. My hands turn the glossy cover to the required page.

..'Nuts of course while best avoided should not necessarily be dismissed from your diet altogether. Unless you or anyone in your family has an existing allergy of any kind...'

Ah great. I think. She can still have her nuts. I look up expectantly, waiting to see the room breath a sigh of relief for the peanut sellers of the universe..'Does anyone have an allergy Mum' asks the Mrs to GTB2.
'Er...no.I...er...No. No no-one has an allergy on our side'
'Not on ours either' says GTB1.' oh so don't worry!'
At last the breath of relief is felt around the room. I am about to suggest a round of drinks when GTB3 remembers' oh...what about our Anis, little un. Remember, cant take any Milk type things'

Oh. Anis and her little one. A nasty little story revolving around a first yoghurt and a small wafer.

'oh yeah' check the book. Does it mention dairy allergy transference....'

To be Continued..

There comes a moment in everyones life when words quite simply escape you. Well most of them anyway. On one particular occasion for myself the dictionary fell open at only one page...'Fuuuuuuuuccck'.

You see, I had just had thrust before my tired early morning eyes the almost incontrovertible evidence that I was about to become a father, was a father in fact.

The morning in question was just a few days ago when my beautifull wife Katherine, who, suspecting that she may be rather late on her monthly period had decided to buy a home pregnancy test ' just to see' if she was, as it were, up the duff. After many years on the pill we were reliably informed ( no snickering ) that conceiving would ' probably take months' by friends and family alike. Oh how they must have wet their diapers behind our backs.

By our reckoning, she was pregnant within about 17 seconds of coming off contraception, now dear reader I either have incredibly fertile sperm swimming through my testes or people are ,well, full of bollocks, when it comes to matters about babies ( more of this to come).

And so it was I found myself lying in that beautiful semi- sleepy state at around 06.30 one weekday morning ( Come on guys you know the score, partners off to the shower, you have the luxury of a short lie in, the duvets warm..) when suddenly the door bursts open and in walks the Mrs.

'Ron....Huh, hu, aah, Ron,' She speaks through a haze of tears and also a hand clasped firmly over her mouth.

'What ,uh, what's happened?'

As I say these words the small piece of white plastic in her one free hand draws my focus like an iron filing to a magnet.

A breath from me and silence. Time slows( I think). Kath sits down on the bed with the offending object in front of her. At this point my main concern is that in the emotional confusion she has perhaps superglued her hand to her pretty face. It still hasn't moved.

'Uh' I say and remove the plastic doom bringer from her free hand, I notice with relief that the other is now reaching for a box of ever present tissues by our bed.

As I look at the little ' window' in the plastic, clear as anything is a symbol. A symbol which will change our lives forever. The symbol is a + .

' Fuuuuuuuuccck'