27 November 2006

I'm sure it shouldn't look like that Sweetheart

Skipped Sing and Sign this morning as didn’t have the energy or inclination necessary to get us both ready for 10am. I don’t anticipate it affecting Chickie’s signing abilities as, after £108 investment and 6 months of regular attendance, he knows and regularly uses a total of no signs whatsoever.

The Chick went to meet his friends this afternoon round ”Six-Pack Simmie's” House. Six-Pack Simmie reports to “The Sydders” who is like the baby equivalent of “The Fonz". Sydders has her own Harley. Well, it’s actually a trike, but she rides it like a Hells Angel.

Six-Pack Simmie is not someone you want to meet when you’re pregnant or still looking pregnant despite having had the baby a year ago. I met her, in the latter stages of our pregnancies, at antenatal classes, at the point where I could just about rustle up enough energy to turn over in bed. At the same point in her pregnancy, SP Sim was going jogging. Her husband, who we lovingly call Sportacus, is equally bouncy. SP Sim doesn’t drive or even walk round to our houses. Nope, she runs, usually miles, and arrives looking refreshed and perky.

On the way round to see everyone this afternoon, I went past the Mini Cooper garage where two young, carefree girls were eyeing up the motors. “B.C.” (Before Chickie), I had a mini, called Maurice. I loved him. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew Maurice would have to go, along with my figure, my money, my independence and my orderly house. He was replaced by, what I see now, was a slight over-reaction on my part.

A 5 seater minibus or “people carrier” as they’re commonly referred to. I don’t know what I was thinking but it seemed like a very practical choice at the time. It got to the point where I was so embarrassed driving it, I took to walking everywhere. It’s gone now, thank God!

Whilst thinking about the minibus, which Accountant loved, it reminded me of when we brought The Chick home from the hospital for the first time.

As previously mentioned, Accountant isn’t the most practical of men. We had been given a car seat from some friends who showed him how to fit it as there were no written instructions available. It’s clear to me now that the only thing Accountant remembered from this exchange was that there was a gauge on the seat that indicated when it was level.

On our discharge from the hospital, Accountant went off ahead with newborn Chick and I crawled out after him on my hands and knees. When reunited at the car, Accountant had already got The Chick in his seat all buckled up and ready to go.

When I looked in the car to check all was well, my precious 3 day old baby was hanging upside down by his car seat straps. It's a rear facing car seat, the part where the baby’s head goes was on the seat where your bum sits and his feet were along the bit where your back goes.

Accountant would not be told that something had gone badly wrong with the fitting and all he would say was, “the gauge is level, the gauge is level”. I tried reasoning with him, “I know it’s level, sweetheart, but look at him, he’s upside down, that can’t be right”.

“The gauge is level” came the response.

Chickie travelled home that way as Accountant was adamant. The doctor says that with the right treatment and heavy use of a neck brace for the next 5 years, Chickie should be just fine!

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