When I was seven months pregnant I went on a walking holiday in the Lake District (including a very poor decision to try and climb the Catbells). I walked about 10 kilometres a day and had to sit in the bath for two hours at the end of everyday just to get my feet to shrink enough to get my slippers on. I went to an all day festival in Hyde Park at eight months and punk rock gig four days before my due date. So as you can imagine I wasn’t up for endless days in the flat watching Cash in the Attic once my bundle of puke and poop arrived.
I realised early on that if I was going to make this parenting thing work, I needed to still be able to do things I enjoy. Of course it’s not always that easy. Most gig ticketing agencies don’t offer a BYOB (bring your own baby) option, the sodding sleepyhead doesn’t fit in a Toyota Yaris when it’s already full of the 20 other bags you’ve had to pack…and when you’ve got to explain to your friends that, yes you can come out for their birthday, but could you meet a bit earlier than nine? Can we meet at say…five? Oh, and can we bring our kid?
What makes life even more fun is that we live in Bristol. Alex’s parents live in Swansea, and mine live in Nottingham. So getting a free babysitter for more than a hour involves calender management, motorway travel and toll bridges.
This blog is mine and my family’s attempts to get out and about. Come along as we attempt everything from a simple trip to ASDA, a social life beyond “Rhyme Time”, wandering under the trees…and being those people on the plane.