It's a Funny Old World

So life settles into a new routine. Mornings are my "job-hunting" time - looking for a job should be regarded as a job in itself. One that you can do in your underwear, admittedly, but a job nonetheless. So as wifey takes munchkin out on various mums and baby activities (rythm time, baby yoga, opera for rug rats), daddy scours the internet for opportunities (avoiding the time suck of facebook, cartoons and, ahem, blogging) or, more usefully, calls up former colleagues and sets up "networking opportunities." The flood of rejections has been tempered by a few more positive responses, although that in itself has led to some searching questions from recruiters. Chiefly along the lines of "Would you really be willing to move to Snodgrass-on-Swamp?" After a pause, my honest response of "it depends" generally hasn't led to whoops of joy from the other end. Part of the problem is that beloved wifey is a brainy bird (could I ever fall for any woman who wasn't?) and, after her maternity leave ends, she has a high flying job to go back to. Upping sticks and heading off for the sake of hubby's job (yet again) is possible, but needs to be made financially worthwhile. Even in the 21st century the notion of wifey actually being a significant wage earner (actually at the moment the only wage earner) seems bizarrely foreign to some recruiters, who appear to have themselves been recruited from the 19th century, and are willing to tout the opportunities in Snodgrass-on-Swamp for those gentlewomen willing to help furnish the shelves at the local comestible emporium of Messers Sainsbury. Catching a cold hasn't helped my mood. Probably due to spending too much time in just my underwear.

I have had one interview, for which I did actually put on clothes over the underwear. I think both sides of the table had some serious questions. Theirs along the lines of "Will I catch anything from his coughing"; mine along the lines of "Would we really move to 'Mittenham-in-Minefield'?"

Still, the afternoons allow me to put those frustrations behind me, and to rejoice in the company of munchkin and wifey - a chance that I could have missed out on. As the smaller one of the pair seems to be changing daily, I have to admit that in many ways I'm very lucky. I could have missed out on seeing an awful lot of her emergence from a sort of eating/sleeping/weeing/pooping machine into a fully fledged personality. It's been fun showing her off as well; we made the trek down to my old college for a reunion. Feeding my baby daughter in the sunshine sat on its lawn, twenty-two years after I left, was a very strange, but oddly satisfying experience. Changing her poopy nappy in front of the library perhaps less so.

In the interim I've been volunteering for things. I may yet be seen at "Imagineering", but all the plum posts at Birmingham Arts Fest seem to have already gone to the arts crowd; no room for engineers in anything other than crowd control!

If anyone has any ideas for an ex-engineer, slightly soiled, do let me know!

Over the past week I have....

• Been swimming with the munchkin
• Attended "mum and baby" groups
• Done "RythmTime" and sung to her - much to her surprise
• Got up at 7 am rather than 5.40 am.
• Put her to bed at 7 pm rather than 8 pm.
• Had lots of baby smiles.

Basically, currently the lifestyle is great, but the income is a bit of a problem...

Good Thing, Bad Thing

Good Thing: I've been able to spend lots of time with the munchkin and dear wifey.

Bad Thing: That's because I'm now jobless.

Bugger!

Harry Potter and the Curse of Windows

News just in: Microsoft Patents 'Magic Wand'

"... The corners of Voldemort's mouth curled upwards in a cruel approximation of a smile, and the snake-like eyes opened wide in satisfaction.
"So, Potter," he hissed, "at last. It ends here."
He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
A low metallic note echoed in the empty hall, and ended in a low chunk.
"I said CRUCIO!"
A small grey box hovered over the Dark Lord's outstretched wand. He bent down and, squinting, read the poorly typeset thin black text.
"Microsoft Wand is running low on virtual memory. You may experience some problems implementing hideous curses. Please consider shutting down earlier curses before starting new ones."

Changing Times

So yesterday we loaded up the munchkin and headed out to the Baby Show. Thousands of mums and mums-to-be, a smattering of dragged along partners (mostly, but not exclusively, male), and a few grannies, decending on the NEC to look at babyphenalia, carefully targetted services and, quite frankly, some desperate selling. (Hands up the purveyors of real sausages, bean bags and don't look quite so smug, Volvo. At those prices, in this economy, you're no longer the archtypal family car.) We tried our little elf in the outward facing carrier for the first time, which she loved, except for the unwanted side effect of her brain exploding. Not literally, but she still appears to be on an overload induced high now, 24 hours later. We're hoping it wears off at some stage.
Of course wifey met friends all over, from Tiny Talk, Rythm Time, Net Mums, NCT, Water Babies, Mums take over the world dot com... Remarkably I saw someone I knew; a girl who worked for me around seven years ago. We couldn't remember each other's name, and she was only there because her partner had a free ticket as it was work related somehow, so was completely babyless, but hey, at least it wasn't twelve nil to wifey.
So now a day spent calming down the tiny one, while waiting for Alice Roberts. Wifey suggested a way out of our DVR quandry last week, so I got to see the divine Dr. Roberts looking pensive as she gazed into African sunsets. She'd trod much the same road as Bruce Parry; you could tell as the tribesmen were wondering whether this white European would also be asking what drugs they took, and getting their kit off at any opportunity. In this they (and I) were disappointed.

I've Been Quiet

This has been entirely due to the 12 week old munchkin around whom we now arrange our life.

Other stuff has happened - I spent a couple of days with the great and the good of my company at a conference at Sandown Park, I've managed to go sculling three times since munchkin made her appearance, and we popped down to Long Itchington Beer Festival to, well, drink beer. And watch morris dancing. Yay! (I wonder whether there are any morris dancers actually called "Morris"?) And I'm officially a year older.

I note the wonderful Dr. Alice Roberts is back on the telly; unfortunately it's on way past my now truncated bed time, and clashes with wifey's dibs on the DVR for "Damages." Alice is already the recipient of my sizeable middle age man crush, and the prospect of a new series which entails her in swimwear, apparently, is quite exciting. So it is with some reluctance I must "boo" Glenn Close for getting in the way of my fantasy. :-(

Oh, she's asleep. A window of opportunity to go and spray liquid death over the garden...

Meanwhile, here's a picture of her feet. The munchkin, not those of Dr. Alice Roberts. (If you do have a picture of Alice Roberts' feet, do send it on.) For her size I think they're ridiculously huge. I hope this doesn't mean she's going to be a swimmer. The only thing a girl can get rich enough to buy her parents a house doing is playing tennis. Well, possibly acting or modelling, but I have to acknowledge she got half her genes from me so that's not going to happen.

The t-shirt she's wearing says "half pint." It's one half of a birthday present to me; the other half way a t-shirt for me that said "pint." We wore them to the beer festival. Apparently it was a present from tiny, but I suspect wifey had something to do with it.

Fatherhood

So it's Easter. Hoorah!

Life has settled into a routine; I arrive home, and accept a fractious baby from her frazzled mum. Our beloved munchkin does not handle evenings at all well, so daddy takes the 6pm to 11pm shift, while wifey tells the tales of what has happened that day. Her social life seems to have expanded, taking in music groups, mums and baby groups, swimming groups, taking over the world groups. All seem to involve hot beverage, cake and chat at some stage in the proceedings. After a bite to eat, wifey departs for an early night, while daddy spends bonding time with tiny. At this stage she exists in a binary state; yelling or asleep, and the trick is to flip her from the first to the second with minimum stress. In the old days alcohol was apparently allowed. Nowadays it is only for application to the adult. Finally daddy hands over responsibility, and tries to get enough sleep to prevent him drifting into the central reservation the following day. At the weekend, and on holidays, daddy gets to do the nighttime feed as well, to givewifey a bit of a break. At least then daddy does find out that Tiny does now have other expressions; curious interest and even slightly smiley have started to appear, which already gives her more facial range than Steven Seagal. A couple of kicks during changing delivered to my nether regions have shown other ways she is ahead of the game there.
As a break, during one of her naps, I've planted out peas and beans in the garden, ready for mashing in 6 months time. I'm hoping the accumulation of good will means I'll be allowed out in my boat again tomorrow morning, after many months off. Hope I don't fall asleep in it.
A belated comment; wasn't "Being Human" great?
Oops - I hear the call of our mini mistress, and must leap to obey...