Cable

Today is the day when our cable tv is going to be reconnected. Mrs Zilla has missed it tremendously, whereas I have hardly noticed it's absence. Well, alright that's not strictly speaking true, I haven't kept abreast with footballing events as I normally would. and the lack of movie premieres on the film channels had meant that I've bought a couple of DVDs, but apart from that I've hardly noticed it's absence. It'll be good to have it back if only to get some peace and quiet restored in the house.

Where does time go at the weekend?

Another weekend flies by, and I wonder where the time went. It certainly wasn’t spent sleeping! The days seem to pass faster and faster, especially when you’re clock watching, trying to plan where and when to get to places taking into account feeds. That said the latest addition to our family doesn’t yet have a routine. With the other two they soon settled into a regular habit of feeding every four hours or so, you know, like normal babies. This one however works to his own agenda. Sometimes he’ll go for three or four hours between feeds, but just as you think there’s some sort of pattern developing he reverts to type and goes all random on you again. Saturday day he was feeding almost every hour. Last week he consumed 16 ounces of milk within two hours! He’s growing in line with his consumption habits as well. He was weighed last week and came in at 12lbs 6oz. So, in seven weeks, he’s almost put on 50% of his birth weight. He’s already starting to outgrow his 0-3 months clothes, methinks he’s going to be a big lad. He did stop feeding on Saturday in time for us to attend one of Godzooky 1’s classmates birthday party, from 4 till 6pm. It was actually the birthday of the girl he describes as his girlfriend, so he was particularly looking forward to it. It was fancy dress, which entailed Godzooky 1 dressing up as a pirate, although his hat didn’t fit too well:

Godzooky 2 wanted her picture taking as well, and she did get to enjoy part of the party disco. She certainly enjoys music and dancing, the girl's got rhythm!

There were over 40 children in attendance, which seemed like a lot, until you remember that the birthday girl’s mum works in a nursery, and is more than used to handling large numbers of children. These fancy dress parties always make me smile. The boys all come dressed in various super hero outfits or cowboys, pirates, Peter Pan, Dracula etc etc The girls cannot resist the opportunity to dress up, and all come as princesses, so you get a room full of 6 year olds, with attitude, all trying to be the Belle of the Ball. Sunday was a whirlwind of visiting in-laws and friends, and now it’s already Monday morning and back to the grind.

Justice?

A story from the news yesterday totally shocked me. A small girl, aged 3 was run over while crossing the road. She was hit by a driver who was in a stolen car, driving without insurance or even a valid driving licence. He didn't stop after the accident, but later turned himself in to the police. Yesterday he was sentenced to jail : 12 weeks As if that wasn't enough of a slap in the face for her family, I saw her mum on a news programme. Apparently there was a collection of flowers and cuddly toys laid near where the girl died. Someone stole one of the teddies, and he also was caught and prosecuted. He got 8 months in jail for that. How can that be comparable?

Madness

No time to blog really, frantically making calculations for our upcoming financial year budget. A lot of tweaks and adjustments to be made. This feels fairly apt to me at the moment, scarily so....

I hope everyone else is having more fun than me

Oh, and if you haven't already heard, Google "March 20th" - now that is my kind of day

Airbrushing

Is it any wonder that there is an increase in eating disorders and people's general discontent with their appearance when we are constantly bombarded with pictures of the beautiful people, shimmering in their glamorous clothes. Unfortunately this seeming world of perfection is just a charade, created by a media which values such shallow, superficial qualities. The ability to airbrush and alter pictures seems to have altered a whole area of the media. Countless gossip magazines push images of perfection and then juxtapose unedited pictures to deride those people who are no longer flavour of the month. It's no wonder that society's views are mirroring what these magazines push at us constantly, and people feel worthless compared to the images shown. How can an average person hope to compete with artificially created perfection? The picture below illustrates what is wrong with the whole media. The left image shows what was actually photographed, and the right one what was actually published in a magazine.

Now I actually prefer the picture on the left - she's attractive, and looks like a real woman - or most of the women I've ever seen, anyway.

Magazines demand the picture on the right though, perpetuating the myth that to be attractive you must be like that.

The world we live in seems to get ever more superficial, everything is judged on face value, when if you scratch beneath the surface of someone there is so much more to know and appreciate.

WTF?

I take a day off and the world of blogging, ok, my world of blogging, turns upside down. If people aren’t taking a break, or relocating to Myspace, then they’re disappearing completely due to psychos. I was off work yesterday while Mrs Zilla had an afternoon out with her friends. This meant going for a meal and “a couple of glasses of wine”, as she put it. I didn’t believe her at the time and I believed her even less when she turned up at 9pm declaring that she wasn’t drunk. Me thinks that the lady doth protest too much! This morning she had no recollection of the meal I cooked her or the complete load of tosh she talked about while I was cooking. She’s feeling a little delicate, despite her protests that she didn’t drink that much. I always end up a smug bastard at this point, as I never suffer with hangovers. Of course I take no delight in the suffering Mrs Zilla goes through…. Sunday was great father-son bonding time. I took Godzooky 1 to his second ever football match, his first ever FA Cup match, at Preston. He always enjoys time spent exclusively with us, yet never appears to resent the presence of the other children normally. I kept the match as a surprise, only telling him about it on Saturday as we watched one of the other cup games together. To say he was excited would be something of an understatement. We made it to Preston with plenty of time to spare, and Godzooky 1 enjoyed spotting all the other Middlesbrough fans wearing the same replica shirt as he was. The Boro end of the ground was packed, and the game appeared to be a sell out. Godzooky 1 was a little unnerved by the amount of noise before kick off. It was very raucous, but he soon got used to it, and was even joining in with some of the chants and songs. He must have been enjoying himself, because despite a very dull first half, he was surprised when the half time whistle went. Thankfully the team formation changed at half time and we were at the right end to see both goals Middlesbrough scored in the second half. It was nice to have some friendly banter with a couple of Preston fans on our walk back to the car. I wonder if I mention to the club that Godzooky 1 could be a lucky talisman ( he hasn’t seen them lose yet) whether they’ll pay for us to attend all future matches?

It's Friday

so to welcome the weekend: Fifteen reasons why men love dogs 1. The later you are, the more excited your dogs are to see you. 2. Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name. 3. Dogs like it if you leave a lot of things on the floor. 4. A dog's parents never visit. 5. Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across. 6. Dogs like to do their snooping outside rather than in your wallet or desk. 7. Dogs don't go shopping for shoes. 8. Dogs find you amusing when you're drunk. 9. Dogs like to go hunting and fishing. 10. A dog will not wake you up at night to ask, "If I died, would you get another dog?" 11. If a dog has babies, you can put an ad in the paper and give them away. 12. A dog will let you put a studded collar on it without calling you a pervert. 13. If a dog smells another dog on you, they don't get mad. They just think it's interesting. 14. Dogs like to ride in the back of a pickup truck. And, last but not least: 15. If a dog leaves, it won't take half of your stuff.

The Things People Say

I play football every week, 5-a-side, with a very varied bunch of people. The ten people playing alters according to who is available or fit enough. There is one guy, who plays most weeks, who owns his own PR company. He’s a nice bloke, gets free tickets to things for us sometimes, and seems fairly well grounded. Last night he totally amazed me with something he said. Normally he turns up in his convertible BMW, but last night he trundled into the car park driving a Toyota Yaris, something he would not normally be seen dead in. Apparently he’d been at his gym last Friday, had a workout and was having a shower afterwards, when his bag got stolen. He swears he had it in view until he was washing his hair. The thief must have waited until he wasn’t looking then nipped off with the bag, found his car keys, and taken his BMW. The gym’s CCTV caught the culprit on camera, but the police have not yet been to the gym to collect it. This is driving our footballing chum mad. He’s offered to deliver it to the police station (which is only 600 yards from the gym apparently) himself, but the police are insisting they’ve got to collect it! So in the meantime his insurance company have arranged the Yaris as a replacement vehicle, which he is also not too impressed about. What amazed me last night though, was something he said to another bloke playing. This other bloke works as a doorman, or bouncer, in some rather unsavoury clubs and pubs. He also is a great bloke, but I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him, if you know what I mean. PR man approaches Bouncer and says in the middle of the changing room: “You know a lot of dodgy people. Can’t you use your underworld contacts to find the scally that nicked my car?” Priceless.

Hoorah

Got my deadlines beaten and I can now breathe more easily. The tiredness is now hitting me, need more coffee to get me going before football...

Wednesday Woes

I'm running on pure adrenalin I think. We didn't get to bed until 11.30 last night, and not for fun, snuggly reasons either. Then at 2.30am I was awoken by a crying baby and didn't get back to bed. Which means I got in work early, which is good because today is our busiest day of the month, see, I'm trying to look for positives.... I'm lacking in so much: sleep, sex (even that's been bumped to second now!), the ability to think straight, confidence, time, I could go on and on.... After football tonight I should sleep like a baby, a good one that is, not a fractious, frustrating baby. This sums up my mood this morning:

If I perk up, my mood improves or work goes well, I'll try and be more positive later....

Valentine's Day

In the run up to today I’ve seen some interesting statistics regarding Valentine’s Day. I know how much credence you should give such stats, but it’s still a benchmark to work from. Apparently, in Britain, we will spend over £6 billion pounds on gifts and treats for our loved ones. The average British male will spend £94 to demonstrate his love. Cheating men will spend three times more on their partners than the average bloke. This last fact highlights what Valentine’s Day means to me, it’s a guilt thing. The reality is that a lot of people who treat their partners shabbily all year, will try and compensate in some small way on this day. It’s a piss poor showing to treat people like that. To me demonstrating your love on one day, or a few more if you include Christmas, birthdays and anniversaries is pretty poor. Then there’s the situation for single people, it’s rammed down their throat that they haven’t actually got a partner to indulge or be indulged by. To me, the magic of Valentine’s Day is when you’re young and you get an anonymous card. The wondering whether it was that girl that you’ve had a crush on for ages, and you sent a card to. Mrs Zilla likes to celebrate the day, and I have no problem with that. We’ll exchange cards and small gifts, have a nice meal. All very pleasant, but to me, not a patch on those magical younger days. It would be nice to still receive an anonymous Valentine, just to show that you are still attractive, and valued. But then that would probably bring more problems at home than the nice feeling it would generate!

Cars

I was listening to the radio this morning when Cars by Gary Numan came on. Humming along to the synth riffs I was idly thinking that Gary was pretty prophetic, people do spend a lot of time in their cars. Given the way that they behave they probably do feel "safest of all" in them, showing little regard or concern for the rest of the world around them. Then he reached the line "Here in my car I can only receive", oh dear Gary, if only you had known about the advent of mobile telephones. People can now transmit, as well as receive. Those really talented ones can transmit, receive, steer with their knees while eating a sandwich. Well, back to the grindstone, at this rate I'll have no nose left....

Busy Busy Busy

It's meltdown time at work again, but I need to feed my blog addiction. So I'll document my football team's demolition of the reigning champions Chelsea. It's so inspired me that I've bought tickets for me and Godzooky 1 to go and watch their FA Cup match next Sunday in Preston. Father-son bonding time. He's been pestering me for ages to go to another match, and this is the first one since within decent travelling time. More later hopefully....

Who Should Paint You

Who Should Paint You: Andy Warhol

You've got an interested edge that would be reflected in any portraitYou don't need any fancy paint techniques to stand out from the crowd!

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

Updated for further things Southern Bird found:

You Should Get a MFA (Masters of Fine Arts)

You're a blooming artistic talent, even if you aren't quite convinced. You'd make an incredible artist, photographer, or film maker.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

Your Blog Should Be Orange

Your writing has a star quality - it's charming, bold, and flamboyant. You write what's on your mind, without fear of embarrassment later. You are one of the most honest bloggers around, and people appreciate your daring persona.

What Color Should Your Blog or Journal Be?

I'm not sure there are more than two outcomes for some of these!

Class Assembly

This morning was Godzooky 1’s class assembly. They were comparing old toys and new toys. Cup and ball games, wooden hoops compared to new board games and action figures. As usual Godzooky 1 understated his role in proceedings. He had a few lines to say, but also played the part of a shopkeeper when they pretended to buy toys. I was totally amazed on two counts: not one of the children when listing their favourite toys mentioned a Playstation or other video game. Also it took over quarter of an hour from the time the class sat down to when all the rest of the school were seated ready to watch. During that time not one of his class talked, fidgeted or messed around! There was the usual split of children barely whispering their lines with excruciating shyness, and the odd one or two who shout at the tops of their voices! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Godzooky 1 came home with a joke last night, I think it got lost part way home though: He started off with “ What do you call a moose with no eyes?” Cue peals of laughter from me and Mrs Zilla.

Eye Know

A window to the world A window to the soul Glazed and subdued Blurry and teary A two way mirror to emotion An optical illusion Cause of confusion Recorder of moments Betrayer of thoughts Hooded sanctuary

Dictionary Definitions

To try and lighten the mood after my previous post, I'm not sure they all fit the criteria though... The Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supplying a new definition. Here are the winners:- 1 Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realise it was your money to start with. 2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly 3. Bozone : The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas penetrating. The bozone layer shows little signs of breaking down in the near future 4. Foreploy : Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid. 5. Cashtration : The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period 6. Giraffiti : Vandalism spray painted very, very high 7. Sarchasm : The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it 8. Inoculatte : To take coffee intravenously when you are running late 9. Hipatitis : Terminal coolness 10 Osteopornosis : A degenerate’s disease 11. Karmageddon : It’s like, when everybody is sending off these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes. 12. Decafalon : The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you 13. Glibido : All talk and no action 14 Dopeler Effect : The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly 15. Arachnoleptic Fit : The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web 16. Beelzebug : Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out 17. Caterpallor : The colour you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating 18. Ignoranus : A person who is both stupid and an asshole

Anniversaries

I was feeling pretty low yesterday and put it down to the current circumstances. It’s not like me to feel down, and then I realised what the date was. Today is the anniversary of my father’s death, it always seems to creep up on me, and I always seem to have a low mood in the week beforehand. The thirteen years seem to have flown by, but time hasn’t really healed the pain. Ironically it’s also my in-laws wedding anniversary, which can act in one of two ways depending on my mood at the time. It’s either great to see a couple who are both 70 still together and enjoying their grandchildren, or a slap in the face emphasising that my father never got to see his grandkids. I tend to swing between the extremes all day. He was always incredibly good with children, he had an easy knack of making stories up on the spot, leading adventures and thinking up mad ideas. My cousins would always make a beeline for him, such were his skills. I think only having one child left him with a surfeit of energy and a desire to entertain on a grander scale. It’s left me feeling that both he and my children have missed out on what would have been an incredible relationship, and I often wonder what things would have been like. He has inspired me to be like him with my children though, and if anything, taught me how to try and improve the standard he set. He was something of a workaholic and would often be tired when he got home, too tired to be active with me. But the weekends and times he made special more than made up for that. I always try and ensure that I get home from work at a reasonable time and get involved with the children. He was well thought of by all the people he worked with. That shone through at his funeral. Over 200 of his colleagues turned up, and we were told that many more were unable to attend due to work commitments. On a personal level I feel robbed as well. Many of my friends have a close relationship with their fathers. I never even really got the chance to go to the pub for a drink with my dad, in the way that so many of my friends take for granted now. I’ve seen their relationships change over the years and that has made the gap in my life feel even more pronounced. Today is a day that may be hard to get through, but I will focus on my happy memories.

The Saddest Picture Ever

I'm not sure exactly what type of person would take these pictures rather than intervene in the first place, but it's not one I would want around if I was in trouble:

Good and Bad News

Good: William seems to have settled into something of a routine. For the last couple of days he has fed at 8pm then gone through till about 1.30am to 2.00am before the next feed. Then another good few hours sleep until 6.30 or 7.00am. That sort of routine I can cope with, getting up once in the night to feed him isn’t too great a hardship. If this continues it might mean we get more of our lives back – hooray! Bad news – Mrs Zilla’s caesarean wound seems to be infected, it’s started to weep and smells far worse than William’s poo! This means more anti-biotics for her and another curtailing of fun until she recovers. What makes this all the more frustrating is the way we resumed normal, ahem, activities so quickly after the first two caesarean sections. As I think I’m running the risk of becoming boring and tedious I will endeavour to avoid the subject further, and will just post when normal service is resumed!

An offer I can refuse

The weirdness of the weekend all stems from Friday evening. Someone was leaving the department, and having a “do”, I was persuaded that this should be combined with a “wetting the bay’s head” night out. This served my purpose well, I could fulfil my obligations as a new father, yet the pressure wouldn’t be on me to stay out all night, and I could make my way home for some sweet, sweet lovin’. I had a meeting on Friday afternoon, some people never know when to schedule meetings, so I arrived at the pub at about 5pm. Now some of the attendees hadn’t returned to work since going to the pub at lunchtime, and they were certainly the worse for wear, steaming in fact. I never really enjoy turning up late when people have been on a session, you’re stone cold sober, they’re (often annoyingly) drunk, and you’ve missed out on a lot of what has already happened. I stood my round and got the drinks in for everyone, then found myself being beckoned over to a colleague and a woman who works in our building. This was a cunning trap laid by my colleague, who quickly excused himself as needing the toilet and left, shooting me a worrying smile as he did so. Now I’ve known this woman for about 7 years, not really speaking to her often, but she’s always seemed well balanced and sensible. To say she was drunk is putting it mildly, she was slaughtered. She’d been out for the afternoon and it showed. I could see why my colleague was looking for an “out”. She started to ask me how long I was out for, and when I replied that I wasn’t out for long, but making my way home early, implying a lack of sleep meant that I wanted to be home soon. She then launched into a monologue about how she wanted another child, but she was having marital problems. Inwardly I prayed that she wasn’t going to share these with me and I tried to establish eye contact with anyone within distance. The bastards all knew what sort of state she was in and were deliberately not looking my way. I was cringing while she told me how her husband was depressed and this had developed into erection problems, and even when he could get it up he was unable to, as she put it, “produce the goods”. Now I’m a tolerant and understanding human being, but I was way out of my depth here. I was tired and dealing with a drunk and extremely emotional woman. Then came the question all men dread: “Do you think there’s anything wrong with me?” Now after a couple of drinks I may have coped well with this situation, but I was stone cold sober and looking for an easy extraction from this nightmare situation. So I told her of course there was nothing wrong with her, the problems were from her husband’s side, and don’t we all go through patches where things don’t always go smoothly? There were probably other things that I blurted out that I can’t recall, even though it feels like this conversation will be permanently etched in my mind. I even proffered the current dilemma of my situation with having Mrs Zilla out of action as a comparison. Looking back this was my big mistake, I made it personal and comparative. Her response stunned me, “Oh are you not getting any either? We should get together. I’ve always found you attractive. Why don’t we go to a hotel?” SHIT – this scenario just kept getting worse and worse. If she wasn’t drunken and rambling I might have been flattered by her attention, but thankfully I had my wits about me and managed to extract myself by “needing” the toilet. I found one of her friends and persuaded her to go and take care of her, before making a hasty exit homewards. I hope that she has no recollection of this conversation, but I certainly won’t be looking at her in the same way from now on. Ironically I didn’t even get me any action on Friday night. I picked up a takeaway and some wine on the way home, we settled the children and then we got cosy. I turned to Mrs Zilla, about to initiate my seduction, to find her fast asleep. The only bright side of this was that I got the majority of a very nice bottle of wine. So neither me or scary lady were getting the goods that night!

Loser, Loser

Well that's £1.50 I'm never going to see again, but then again I didn't expect to win. In fact I'm glad I didn't, all that money would only change me, and after I'd got SB a reliable car and her own Dolly dishwasher, Ticharu another space heater to warm his other side, Lily an industrial size vat of coffee, Funnyuns and wine, and Truth some exclusive Harry Potter stuff what else would I need to buy? It's been a seriously weird weekend, but I'll post more about that later, when I get time, this needs time to be put down in words properly....

Lottery

Today is the day of the largest ever lottery draw. The Euro Millions Lottery jackpot is expected to reach £125million. Quite a significant sum, and potentially going to one luck recipient. I’m never really sure where I stand on the lottery. Sometimes I see it as an inspirational tool for people, who can dream about what they would do if they won. It can change people’s lives and is no worse a form of gambling than betting on horse racing or any other event. The ones I don’t understand are the people who scoop the jackpot and then stay doing the same things they always have. Why do it if it’s not going to change your life? On the other hand I can see the argument for it being a stealth tax on the poorest people. They are more likely to spend money on playing the lottery, yet less likely to receive direct benefits form the Good Causes Fund, which supports ballets and operas etc. I must admit to feeling concern about certain people who you see spending £20 or £30 a time playing it, when they clearly do not have a lot of spare cash. I guess they will argue that it’s their only chance to dramatically change their lives, and that’s probably true, but it still leaves me with qualms. The odds on winning the National Lottery are something like 1 in 14million, and that obviously doesn’t decrease just because you’ve bought more tickets, each one has the same chance of winning. The Euro Millions Lottery odds are more like 1 in 76million, which probably explains why it’s rolled over since last November. To play it you pick 5 numbers from the main selection and then 2 “lucky star” numbers. To win the jackpot you need all 7 numbers to come up. Last week apparently people who had 4 numbers and the 2 lucky start numbers won a princely sum of £5,703. Which doesn’t sound a lot to me when you were close to winning £100million. Now I don’t want to sound like some sort of lottery snob. I do buy tickets from time to time, but don’t have set numbers. I use lucky dip selections where the machine picks numbers at random, so I’ll never have the horror of seeing “my numbers” come up when I didn’t buy a ticket . I think I’ll be spending £1.50 on a Euro Millions Ticket for tonight though, £125million seems like a good potential return on the investment! Here’s hoping for good news for the next post…. Of course I will be sharing any good fortune with all those who know me, I think my £125million could bring a fair bit of happiness for others too! To temper my ambitions the following cartoon should keep my feet on the ground.

Bathtime for Bonzo

A recent comment by Southern Bird got me thinking, she suggested as a remedy for my recent frustrations a “Long bath and a tommy tank” It occurred to me that whilst I have probably overdone the tommy tanks, I can’t actually recall the last time I had a bath. I should hasten to add that I have showers daily, sometimes more often following vigorous exercise, so I am not some malodorous troll. I used to have baths, but since we’ve had children they seem to have disappeared from my radar. I know that in our last house the bath was incredibly small, and it was impossible for me to submerge my whole frame in water, which generally leaves the bath experience lacking to my tastes. So my post football soaks became a thing of yore. This house has a perfectly adequate sized bath, and I would probably be able to immerse myself fully. So why haven’t I had a single bath in the three years we’ve lived here? Perhaps I had weaned myself off the habit? We only had Godzooky 1 when we first moved in, so it wasn’t down to child pressures then. Since having more children I guess I do see time as a valuable commodity, and don’t want to “waste” it soaking in a bath. I’d rather be playing with the children, or when they go to bed, doing whatever I need to get done and then reading or listening to music. Mrs Zilla does enjoy a good long soak, with candles and luxurious bubble bath. Perhaps I need to re-evaluate my approach to baths.

Ageing

Just received this and some of them made me smile: GREAT TRUTHS THAT LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED: 1) No matter how hard you try, you can't baptize cats. 2) When your Mum is mad at your Dad, don't let her brush your hair. 3) If your sister hits you, don't hit her back. They always catch the second person. 4) Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a tomato. 5) You can't trust dogs to watch your food. 6) Don't sneeze when someone is cutting your hair. 7) Never hold a Dust-Buster and a cat at the same time. 8) You can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk. 9) Don't wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts. 10) The best place to be when you're sad is Grandpa's lap. GREAT TRUTHS THAT ADULTS HAVE LEARNED: 1) Raising teenagers is like nailing jelly to a tree. 2) Wrinkles don't hurt. 3) Families are like fudge...mostly sweet, with a few nuts. 4) Today's mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground. 5) Laughing is good exercise. It's like jogging on the inside. 6) Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fibre, not the toy GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT GROWING OLD 1) Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional. 2) Forget the health food. I need all the preservatives I can get. 3) When you fall down, you wonder what else you can do while you're down there. 4) You're getting old when you get the same sensation from a rocking chair that you once got from a roller coaster. 5) It's frustrating when you know all the answers but nobody bothers to ask. you the questions. 6) Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician. 7) Wisdom comes with age, but sometimes age comes alone. THE FOUR STAGES OF LIFE: 1) You believe in Santa Claus. 2) You don't believe in Santa Claus. 3) You are Santa Claus. 4) You look like Santa Claus. SUCCESS: At age 4 success is . . . not peeing in your pants. At age 12 success is . . . having friends. At age 17 success is . . . having a drivers licence. At age 20 success is . . . going all the way. At age 35 success is . . . having money. At age 50 success is . . . having money. At age 60 success is . . . going all the way. At age 70 success is . . . having a drivers licence. At age 75 success is . . . having friends. At age 80 success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

What a difference a day makes

I am determined not to have another whiny post. So I will gloss over the crippling blisters my new football boots gave me last night. A post Christmas sales bargain, they proved to have a hidden cost last night. Blood shows up remarkably well on white socks, and will prove a good test for the washing liquid we use. The good news is that we had a relatively quiet night baby-wise. William fed at 7.30pm and we put him to bed. We didn’t hear a peep from him until 2am, when he fed quickly, and I was back in bed for 2.20am. Then no stirring until 7am this morning. I can cope with that sort of behaviour. He was so quiet that I had to go and check on him a couple of times, just to reassure myself that everything was OK. Mrs Zilla’s friend has finally been allowed to bring her baby home from hospital. She was born just before New Year, but was very small and had to be fed by a tube. It meant that she had to visit the hospital each day to see her daughter. Now she can feed normally she’s been discharged. We’ve consciously not been to see the friend, given our comparative ease of birth, and the speed with which William came home. She was suffering with depression before the pregnancy and I hope that getting the baby home will have given her a lift that she badly needs. She’s had a rough time of it, living at home with her parents, splitting from the father of her baby, coping with depression and the rumour of her ex being arrested for something despicable. Another of our friends revealed that she is pregnant at the weekend, so babies seem to be everywhere at the moment. They were adamant that they were not going to have another one, as their first was so troublesome. He’s just turned 5 and is finally sleeping in his own bed. So they now seem willing to give it a go again. My friend from school who had a baby recently rang last night, and he is still over the moon with becoming a parent, positively gushing with the wonderment and excitement of being a first time father. I’d forgotten how wrapped up in the moment you become first time around. It’s still always magical when you get that bundle of joy, but not quite as momentous as the first time. Your life turns upside down, priorities totally change and reality bites hard and fast. It made me totally reassess my values and beliefs. I had probably been drifting for too long before I became a father, and it made me focus much more. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night, Mrs Zilla is finishing her course of antibiotics, and we will be able to enjoy a nice bottle of wine for the first time in ages. I have managed to resist the lure of drinking while she’s not been able to, trying to show solidarity and understanding. It’s not been easy, with a couple of bottles winkling at me on several occasions, but my self restraint has won through. So tomorrow night, if William behaves again, will be a pleasant return to a relaxed and enjoyable weekend evening. Something nice to eat, a glass or two of wine and an evening curled up on the sofa.

Primal Scream

I spent last night listening to music that suited my melancholic mood: Life on your own don’t really make you free Can’t put your arms around a memory, Little bit of soul, Is worth more than gold, Everybody needs somebody, Everybody needs somebody, Everybody needs somebody, I need you The lonely days and nights don’t pave your dreams, I’ve loved and lost, and I do believe, Little bit of soul, Is worth more than gold, Everybody needs somebody, Everybody needs somebody, Everybody needs somebody, I need you I can see my music choices getting darker as time goes on....

Back to Hospital Again

Another day off, another hospital appointment for William. When he was born he had been squashed inside Mrs Zilla, causing his feet to curl inwards. An apparently common enough condition, and normally babies end up with no long lasting effects. To be on the safe side we were given instructions to stroke the outside of his legs and feet, this naturally causes the body to straighten the legs and feet. We were given an appointment to see the Physiotherapist to carry out a check up. This was yesterday. Now since he's been born we've been doing this stroking and his legs look perfectly normal to me now. So I took another day off work to get the logisitics sorted re transport and time to the hospital. We spent 10 minutes with the Physio, for her to say things looked fine, but she'd like to see him again in two weeks time! Grandma Zilla also came down to pay a visit yesterday, to get her quota of cooing and aahing in. As usual he was good as gold during the daylight hours, whilst Grandma was here, and then when night fell became a whining bag of whinge. On the positive side I did manage to eat a meal at normal temperature last night. Other frustrations still remain. There's a fair chance that someone will get kicked at football tonight.....