The Wondrous PacaPod

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a mother in possession of a credit card must be in want of a PacaPod changing bag. Well, either a credit card or a very impressive bank balance, but let's gloss over that for now.

They are, quite simply, the most fabulous changing bag I have ever met*. Yes, I appreciate my excitement will not be shared by everyone; this is either because you do not have a small child of your own, or you do not share my love of organisation.

I have to thank my new baby group friend J for introducing me to them on the very day that my freebie Parenting Club changing bag decided to shed its stitches and resign from its post. To be fair to it, it worked hard in its short lifetime, but I do wish it had worked some kind of notice period before leaving me in the lurch.


I do have to cram rather a lot of stuff into a changing bag. S has an amazing talent for excreting out of his nappy at inopportune moments when you do not have a change of clothing, will fill several nappies in quick succession when you haven't brought enough, and will inevitably demand a bottle when you are least expecting it. My old changing bag was just not prepared for this. My PacaPod is prepared for everything (even the apocalypse). It has separate pods for changing and feeding, a pocket to store anything you like in, a pocket for my purse and another for my phone. It also has a very helpful strap for attaching house keys, so that I will never again be stood on my doorstep, in the rain, emptying everything I own out of a bag in order to locate them. 


I don't think their use should be limited to baby changing bags either**. I think anyone with a love of organisation needs one in their life. Of course, you might want to use the changing pod for storing something other than baby changing equipment to save any awkward questions as to why you are carrying nappies and nappy rash cream around with you. Perhaps use it for storing toiletries instead. Think of the possibilities. The PacaPod could be the ultimate overnight bag: toiletries packed and organised, snacks packed and organised,   safe storage for your purse, phone and house keys, and space to store a change of clothes. What more could you possibly want from life?


* I'm not even kidding. 
** PacaPod, if you haven't already thought of the many other ways you could put your design to good use, we should talk. I have a million ideas (well, a few at least).

Birth Boasting Baby Groupers

* Disclaimer: I do not have anything against the vast majority of people I have met through baby groups. Most of them are quite nice and we get along very well. There are, however, a small group of birth-boasters who get right on my wick.*


Dear Birth-Boasting Baby Groupers, 


Yes, you, the ones who think that it is absolutely necessary to share every minute detail of your fantastically, wonderful birth stories with a room full of strangers. Not everyone has been quite so lucky as you. Not everyone wants to hear the intimate details of your child's birth. Not everyone actually cares how you got your precious bundle of joy into the world. Most of us are fully aware of where babies come from. 


You do not have to wear your birth story like a badge of honour. "I got to 6cm dilated and I hadn't even felt it". Well, bully for you Little Miss Six-Centimetres, would you like your certificate now, or later? I'm not entirely sure what to write on the certificate though, perhaps we should agree on some kind of scale of pain of dilation before I do it, so that we can be sure you are getting the full recognition for your achievement. 


Little Miss Water Birth, your prize is in the post (the prize being for most irritating birth-story of the century) : "the water just took all the pain away." Really? Well, thanks ever so much for sharing that. No, really, my life is now complete.  Do you have any concept of how pain actually works? A bath of water cannot block the pain receptors in your brain, unless you are doing it wrong. You may wish to look into this. 


Finally, to Little Miss 'I Sneezed and He Popped Out', I would give you your award, but I think you have more pressing matters to attend to: there is clearly something terribly wrong with your pelvic floor muscles if you didn't even notice a 9lb baby popping out during a sneeze. Run along to the hospital now, there's a good girl, and do stop hassling me with your birth story. 


I am warning you, I will not be held responsible for my actions if I have to listen to one more pain-free sneeze-birth story. I will set fire to the person's face. I am not normally a violent person, but there's just no need for it. Hurrah! You had a lovely birth experience, that's great for you. Stop rubbing my nose in it.



Thanks ever so much, 


Mrs B x

Conversations With Mr B: Emotionally Inept

Scene: Walking home from Royal Quays shopping outlet after a lovely hot chocolate and cake in Thorntons cafe. Mr B is trying to explain some new TV programme to me

Mr B: It's got that character from "In The Loop". You know who I mean.

Me: "Walk the f*cking line" (in a very bad Scottish accent) - that dude?

Mr B: No. The other one.

Me:  "Difficult difficult lemon difficult"

Mr B: No, you goof, that's Chris Addison's character.

Me: Yes, I know that.

Mr B: The other one. Erm... Simon.

Me: Oh. "It's not inevitable. It's just not evitable"

Mr B: "You better work on that f*cking line" (also in a bad Scottish accent)

Me: That's an awesome film.

Mr B: It was R. (ex-girlfriend) that put us onto that wasn't it?

Me: Yes. *short pause* Remind me, how did you two ever break up? You seem to have an awful lot in common.

Mr B: Basically, one day she said "nah" and I am completely emotionally inept and said "oh ok".

Me: So, basically, we've just lasted this long because I didn't say "nah" to you?

Mr B: Erm... well... no, not exactly. I'm different now. I'd fight for you.

Me: What if I said "nah" to you now.

Mr B: Erm... I don't know

Me: That's not putting up much of a fight for me after 9 years Mr B.

Mr B: Ok. How about this - I've got the house keys.

Me: I've got the joint account card and there's a Premier Inn across the road.

Mr B: I can take the money out of the account. Or I could, if I knew the password.

Me: That's it? I've got the house keys. That's all you can come up with? Not that you love me or anything like that.

Mr B: Well, I was being practical, because you're a practical person really. I could start bringing the boy into it but that just seems pathetic.

Me: Well, yes. I would win. I've got the maternity leave.

Mr B: So?

Me: Are you kidding me?

Mr B: Well, that's just an accessory issue.

Me: Is it? Well, what are the big issues then?

Mr B: Well, I love you, because obviously that seems to matter to you, but most importantly, I have the house keys.

Sorry Doctor

Scene: Awkward postnatal appointment with a Doctor who was not my doctor...

Doctor: When you have your next baby...

Me: * cutting off doctor before he finishes that sentence * There won't be a next baby.

Doctor: Well, accidents to happen.

Me: Trust me. There won't be a next baby.

Doctor: We would like to make you feel happier about that.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry Doctor, how many next children would you like me to have???

(Of course I didn't actually say that. I sat in silence looking at him as though he had two heads, but I wish I had said it).

If You Have Children...

... you will never again trust that a warm feeling in your groin area is a safe and good thing. You will always be wondering if something spectacularly unpleasant has escaped from your infant's nappy.

I'm just warning you. 

You're welcome. 

Conversations With Mr B : Where Would Starbucks Live?

Me: I need new books thank you please.

Mr B: Okay, are you getting them for the Kindle, or actual books.

Me: Both.

Mr B: And are you getting your actual books from Amazon?

Me: No, from Waterstones.

Mr B: Why?

Me: Because I can use my points card * pause* and also because if I buy them from Amazon, I am not supporting actual book shops like Waterstones and then those shops might go bust and then where would Starbucks live?

Oops

Or, more appropriately, bollocks and arse. I have lost all my blog pictures in a moment of epic stupidity.

I joined Google + by accident one evening, and in my hurry to work out what it was, I managed to delete my album of blog pictures off the internets for all eternity by not reading the warning.

This is going to be terribly time-consuming to fix as I appear to have misplaced (read: deleted) the majority of my paint drawings from my laptop.

I am the queen of muppets.