Apologies to all the non-bloggers for this blog talk but  Rock&Roll Mummy awarded me with the Sunshine Award and tagged me with a very personal question: “What’s in your bag?”  Of course I haven’t got a bag, and I wasn’t sure about publicly revealing the content of Mummy’s bag. But when I had a quick look inside it and saw that most of the stuff in it was mine I thought that it might as well be my bag. So here’s what I found:

Two nappies  (I’m glad Mummy isn’t faithful to one brand. To be honest they’re much of a muchness), nappy sucks, a spare bodysuit, a pair of tights (that’s interesting… I haven’t worn a skirt for almost a week, which is when she must have packed them), wet wipes, Panda teether (my faithful travel companion along with Tortle, who got sadly left in the car) and an empty snack box.

So that was all my stuff. Now, let’s have a closer look at Mummy’s stuff:

A wooden bracelet – yes, it’s nice but I just don’t know why she bothers. A bracelet should be worn on one’s wrist. If she wares it on her wrist I want to play with it. So she takes it off and puts in her bag.

Sunglasses and umbrella – that really is a funny combination. Why on earth do you need both at the same time?

“The Idle Parent” by Tom Hodgkinson – good stuff, there’ll be more about it another time.

White Sonny Ericsson mobile – yeah, I know not the latest gadget, but I tell you, I’d give up my Panda and all the other teethers if I could have that in my toy box.

And all the usual stuff, house keys, car key lip balm and a purse.

Here we go, I told you, I might as well be my bag. Anyway, now it’s my turn to award the Sunshine Award and the rules are:

* Put the logo on your sidebar, or within a post
* Pass the award onto 6 bloggers
* Link the nominees within your post
* Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog
* Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award

So the nominees are:



Big Beluga Baby

Perfectly Happy Mum

A Small Hand in Mine

From Marketing to Milk


Before I was born and before I was even conceived one Bonfire Night, Mummy had a very romantic image of what it’s like to have a baby. She thought it would be all love and bliss; blueberry muffins and cafe latte. Well, I could guarantee plenty of love and a little bit of bliss. I’m not opposed to the odd sip of muffin- and coffee-flavoured milk either, but I couldn’t guarantee it would be all on her terms. And it didn’t take me long to make that clear.

On our third walk to the park Mummy decided it was about time she did it the way she’d always imagined it – pushing the pram with one hand and holding a cup of soya latte in the other.  And off we went to the nearest café so she could put her plan to work.

But I just wasn’t in the mood – Sod’s law, I had an itch and I wanted to be picked up. I tried my best to get Mummy’s attention in a polite way, but all I got was a smile. “Pick me up! Pick me up!” I thought but all I could utter was a pathetic whimpering sound, which got me another smile and a pat on the tummy.

I waited as long as I could to save her embarrassment but as soon as I felt we were far enough from the café I screamed as loud as I could. And I screamed and screamed and screamed. OK, perhaps I overdid it a bit. But the next thing that happened was Mummy put her paper cup on the pavement and picked me up. She tried several times putting me back in the pram but since it worked so well the first time, I screamed again, and again, and again.

And there we were – Mummy beginning to push the pram with one hand and holding Pumpkin with the other. Not quite the way she’d always imagined it. We stopped. “What do I do with my latte?” she said somewhat perplexed.

American dream

Sometimes I wish I was an American baby. It doesn’t happen all that often and it’s not because of Baby GAP socks, after all you can buy them in Europe, though to be honest I’d be happier if you could find them in a few more countries including my current country of abode. But it’s Burt’s Bees washes, powders and oils that are so difficult to get hold of if you don’t live in America. And Apricot Baby Oil is without doubt the best moisturiser I’ve ever tried. It works wonders for you baby soft skin and smells so yummy that you can be guaranteed a constant cuddle, as quite simply nobody will want to put you in a crib. On top of that it’s all natural, which is what I like.

Yes, I know it’s messy – but that means it’s even more fun! I love feeding myself, choosing what to put in my mouth, what to fling on the floor and what to smear on my ears. Though I must admit any juicy fruit and veg like cucumbers or melons get a bit uncomfortable to sit on after a while, and feeding yourself takes time – it’s not like scoffing up purees with a spoon.

There’s plenty of information out there about what it involves so I won’t bore you with all the details.  I haven’t followed BLW religiously, mostly because Mummy didn’t know about it when she first gave me solids. But combining it with eating purees is great too. And I can assure you – however, scary it looks when a baby gags on a piece of carrot or apple, they’re fine. We’re more clever than you think – if we can’t cope with too big a bite we gag and it comes out, we won’t choke. And if you don’t believe me, have a look at this:


3361.38 miles or 5409.47 kilometers – that’s exactly the distance between my two Grandmothers. In addition one lives 4254.82 miles (6847.29km) away from me and the other one ‘only’ 1009.39 miles (1624.41km) away. And thank goodness for that! OK, sometimes it would be cool to have them closer. I love seeing them and getting my cuddles allowance increased. I also think Mummy and Daddy might be a bit more chilled if they had grandparents handy to leave me with once in a while so they could go out and enjoy the odd glass of gin ond tonic, which could in theory increase my cuddles allowance further .

But, if it wasn’t for that distance I would seriously worry about my sanity. After all how can you grow up in a world with two people treating you completely differently? If one Grandmother brings blankets to keep me warm, tucks me in every two minutes and pulls my hat down to cover my ears, the other one will worry about me getting overheated, swaddled and would happily keep me outside at all times.  If one thinks that licking the wheels of my buggy (OK, that, I have only attempted once so far) is good for my immune system, the other one will do everything to ensure there’s no spec of dust in about 50meter radius around me. I know, I know, let’s be different and let’s love one other, but I’m glad I only have to do it a few times a year.

Do Anglo-Saxon babies develop at a faster rate than other babies? My guess is they do. It’s not that I want to say I’m developing faster than other babies, I can’t even say I’m an Anglo-Saxon baby. But how else do you explain the fact that a Maclaren buggy, a Maclaren Triumph Scarlet to be precise (though I believe other colours are the same), can be used by three-month old babies in the UK and USA but you have to wait until you are six months if you live on the continent. It’s not a joke – check out the insruction manual. I’ve discovered you don’t really have to speak all the languages, it’s enough you know how to read numbers and you’ll get that part of the manual.

Strawberry jam

Daddy is cool. He’s really chilled about life, well except for his obsession with non-matching socks, which are all black and the same brand – how can he tell??  Still, I don’t really mind about the socks – he’s chilled and that can only be good for me. And it is – with him about there’re always new things to explore and discover. And so I did today, though I must say when I first woke up I thought it was going to be a day like every day. You get up and it’s the same drill – nappy change, milk (again) and play on the floor while Mummy goes back to bed “just for five more minutes” (why doesn’t she sleep when I’m asleep and stay awake when I’m up?!).

But then Daddy got up and we had breakfast together – Daddy and I, and I knew something exciting was going to happen. He carefully placed me in my red IKEA high-chair and sat at the kitchen table, which I believe also came from IKEA, but that was before my time. He scoffed up his cornflakes and started munching on his toast. “No food for me?” I thought. “That’s not how it’s done” And I screamed as loud as I could. “Give her a biscuit or a piece of toast,” Mummy mumbled from the bedroom. I must say, it’s impressive how she gets the message even from a distance. And I got what I wanted, well even more. As I gradually chewed on my piece toast (how else do you do it if you only have two teeth) Daddy suddenly stood up, took it away  (but just for a moment) and spread sticky red substance on one side of it. “Mmmm that makes a difference” I thought and needless to say I devoured all I was given.

Then Mummy staggered into the kitchen. “She thought the toast was a bit boring so I put some strawberry jam on it,” Daddy said pleased with himself. And that’s when I discovered that perhaps Mummy wasn’t nearly as chilled as Daddy. And I also learnt something about E numbers and sugar.