It's a kind of magic #Zen

Today everything came together, which is actually the first time that's happened. We all got up early, Small Fry bounced around a bit, got tired and had a nap, waking up just in time to be bundled into his sling and marched off to Baby Massgae at the local health centre. We got there nice and early so that he could have a mid-morning snack before getting down to business. 

Finally, I have the coolest kid on the block.

While all the others wheedled, girned, cried and pooped their way through the class, my little angel smiled happy smiles, looked around him curiously, kicked and wiggled his legs and arms, giggled and 'talked' while I massaged him from the tippy toes up.

Apparently babies under three months old respond better to pressure massage than sliding your hands along them due to the sensations created. What they didn't tell us at the beginning is that an hour's massage is a lot for a baby, especially the first time. And sure enough, after a little cry, he followed all the babies into neverneverland. Silence reigned as we massaged the final bits.

Silence continued to reign and it was with resignation that I had to wake the little guy up to get him dressed and back home..where he promptly fell back asleep.

Time for some thesis preparation. Oh goody.

Zach Boyd #NoLongerTheYoungest

Congratulations Team Boyd!

Men At Work #Start'emYoung

Out and About #BatignollesBus

Waiting at the bus-stop in the cold

 Effects of hat on hair

Beating the January Blues #EscapeParis

This weekend we were on the move again...again still in search of a suitable venue to hold a very big party later this year. This time we headed to the 'Indre et Loire' region, and this time by car. El Puma misses being behind the wheel and as our aim was a teeny, tiny village, we hired an Audi for the weekend. I suspect the 'stick' in the deal was our trip back from Nantes when Small Fry showed the whole carriage his finely developed lungs during the final 20 minutes of the trip back when everyone was standing in close proximity to him, queuing to get off the train as we trundled into Paris, slowed down by the snow. And then the 'carrot' was the offer by Hertz on its Audis. In fact, this time of year is a great time to travel as practically everything was on some kind of offer. And that's how mama got an hour in the spa at the hotel at the end of the day.

How SF spent most of the weekend

Visiting ye olde, olde family home in Clerville

 The little sportsmobile

 Uses the sportsmobile was probably never designed for

 A whole new mama the day after her spa

 Happy mama, happy baby

 Heading home through the Loire valley and its Chateaux

Burns' Night #TimorousBeasties

Where else would the son of a Scot be found but down the pub? 

(Small Fry slept through it all while his mum and dad drank to The Bard).

Pushchair logistics #HansSoloHands

It's terrible to wake a sleeping baby...especially one that has taken a good walk in the park to actually get to sleep. But in Paris, where the appartments are teeny and the pushchairs remain downstairs in the foyer of the building, there's little choice.

Playing the piano in his sleep perhaps?

Krabbelgruppe #dayattheoffice

You'd think that with nothing to do all day but organise myself and a 9-week old, we'd actually manage to get to the German mother and baby group on time at 3pm. Instead, at 14h45 I was still at home putting on jeans while attempting to get baby into his gruffalo outfit. And I still managed to leave without my scarf...

Funnily enough, despite being so late, we were the first to arrive. So it looks like those Germans have succumbed to French time-keeping. The other mums were extremely friendly but I realised how much baby and birth vocabulary I am missing. The word for 'midwife' was a new one, for example.

It was very nostalgic hearing the songs I learned when...well...who knows when you learn kiddie songs. They are the songs you grow up with and feel like you've always known. Although SF was again the youngest, he showed a mixture of concentration and dynamic arm and leg waving when the instruments were being played, my fingers were dancing over him in time with the words, or we were putting our left foot in, left foot out, and all that. 

The stimulation had added payoffs as he couldn't wait to get to sleep come bed-time.

Here he is having his bath before the zzzzzs hit:

Boy Boom #futuremotherinlaws

Yesterday's mother and baby class saw nine mums and babies turn up. All nine babies were boys. Small Fry was of course the cutest, but also the biggest, even compared to the bottle-fed babies. We got him weighed the day before yesterday and he's 6kg, which means he is perfectly following his 75th percentile curve. He's also a TV star. A television channel filmed the class and is due to air in the Spring.

I've heard a lot about Parisian women not being all that friendly, especially with other women. But walking back home with one of the other mums, she invited me to join her for a coffee tomorrow after a post-natal appointment in my neighbourhood. 

But first, the German mother and baby group...

Paris in the snow #winterwonderland

For the first time that I know of, the park was firmly closed...

...which was really just an excuse to go for lunch with daddy.

Weekend in Nantes #Ialwaystaketheweatherwithme

This weekend we went to Nantes and met up with most of the Gonzales family. The star of the show gathering his strength for the attention to come:

Small Fry got to experience his first snow (from the window):

And then outside (didn't go down so well):

And then we slid and slipped our way back home to Paris:

Sexee babee #angelinajolie

 Just like Angelina Jolie at the 2012 Oscars

Our neighbour Eve #sharedchildcareinthefuture?

The lack of space in French appartments and the number of stairs often means that pushchairs stay downstairs in the entrance hallway. When I was strapping Small Fry in to his buggy one day, a very, very pregnant woman about my age approached and asked if I was Ingrid. Normally even neighbours don't converse that often in Paris, but it turns out she had already done 4 weeks of maternity leave, the baby was late, and she was bored. This led to an invite for coffee, and a walk in the nearby Parc Monceau yesterday (she's trying to get labour started).

It's really nice to have someone in the same building who is at the same stage, and also friendly. And who knows, possible child-watching in the future while one of us gets some me-time?

Yoga #cryingbabies

Now that my 'hi/how are you/where are you from/what do you do?' questions when I meet someone new also include 'have you found a fun mother and baby activity in Paris?', I found myself at a mother and baby yoga class. Well, it was more about the baby than mother. And I'm not sure any actual yoga took place. I think we did 4 moves over the whole hour and each went on for about 10 minutes - at least half that time one baby or another would be crying, so limiting the moves and increasing the time for each one at least gives each mother time to settle her baby...pick it up...even feed...and still get a couple of neck rolls in.

There were three 8-week olds in the class. Small Fry was by far the largest and most advanced in terms of alertness...and apparently a surprise to see as one mum said 'he must take after daddy as he looks nothing like you'. I don't think I could go as far as to call it exercise and fair enough - SF can only manage about 20 happy minutes after his lunchtime feed before he wants a sleep....and he only accepts that after a little cry.

The yoga teacher took it all in her stride and generally waited for a baby to calm if appropriate, or carried on regardless. She talked directly to the babies about the movements they were about to do, and had a strange way of asking them if it was ok we do the move...and then waited for their response. I'm not sure how she understood 'yes' or 'no', but she didn't do everything with all of them. She seemed like the sort of non-judgemental person you'd want to run a yoga class with teeny babies...even if she did seem a little crazy.

At first I found it stressful, trying to keep my baby quiet so that we could actually do some yoga. Then I realised that the class is not really about that. Each baby had his turn at calmness, alertness, sleep, screaming and feeding, and in many ways it was total chaos. But it was also the only time in my week I get a good stretch and can chat with other French mums with a certain philosphy (breast-feeding/sling-wearing). It was total chaos, but I think I'll go again.

Mothers and Toddlers #sociallifeexplosion

Whatever your view of Church, they are awfully good at hosting mother and toddler kids. Although I am not strictly in possession of a toddler, let's face it, these groups are not really for the kids anyway.

Joining a new group is often a bit daunting - there are always unspoken rules that everyone else seems to know already and you generally learn by having already broken them ('ah right, the prams go there' or '€2.50? yes of course, no problem, here's my contribution' etc) - but the trauma of the first meeting is usually worth it. There were 5 mums at the group at St Michaels Church Paris and 2 au pairs, which made for a quite a lot of kids. This being an English speaking group, I got handed lots of tea and biscuits, which is really what I was there for. Also, being a set of ex-pat mums, I got to meet a lot of high-flying career women who are taking a break with their small babies (engineers, lawyers, marketeers, research scientists etc). And most of the mums being in mixed marriages, I got to meet fellow Scots with girls named things like 'Capucine'.

The group has free playtime for the kids (ie tea-drinking time for the adults) before all the toys are cleared away, the musical instruments come out and every mother picks such classics as, 'heads, shoulders, knees and toes', 'the wheels on the bus', 'row, row, row your boat'...all songs with actions requiring physical activity. I loved it.

AND I also got to meet a German mum who put me in touch with the German toddler group at the German Church.

That's a lot of church-going headed my way...

4:1 #auntiesrock!

A 4:1 ratio of adults to a 7 week old seems about right to me - at least it was really fantastic to have two of Merlin's aunties come to stay. We had a lovely day walking the mile uphill from home to the Sacré Coeur, willing the grey skies to lift to catch some snaps, and then on tothe posh department store Printemps for lunch and a view. It wasn't as hard as I expected finding spots to feed, but all those bare-breasted moments in the damp temperatures of late led to a bout of tonsilitis and the second day spent in bed. 

 Plenty of room but not much view@ Montmatre

 Well, you know, girls together:

 Our superb family photographer still managing to snap the classics:

Time at home:

A taste of things to come #realitybites

El Puma has gone back to work and I am learning what being a mum is all about, which so far has involved quite a lot of emails and skype calls with those who know even better what being a mum is all about.

Success stories this week were a visit to a shopping centre (baby steps, baby steps) to buy presents for the five other future playmates recently born, a visit to the doc, guests over for dinner (which turned into an excuse for small fry to stay up), the bank, and the bank again. And I STILL don't yet have a bank account. 

The weekends, when we have four hands and only one baby, is a much easier ratio that allowed us to visit newborns (and realise how much small fry has already grown) and meet a one year old and a two year old (and so realise where small fry is headed), and attempt an afternoon nap (fail-yet another pair of hands required for that me thinks).

Extra hands arrive in the form of two aunties this week...looking forward to it!

Seven weeks:

Happy New Year #Theadventurebeginsagain

With our very best wishes xx