The team from my area is better than the team from your area.

Show me a camera phone, and I will fill it with photos of our cute podgy baby. Show me some baby-sized sporting apparel, and I will fill it with our cute podgy baby, have a cuppa, then continue to fill the remainder of my camera phone with photos of the two in combination.

It's weird, I've always been against pointless photos of the same thing over and over again, especially the countless photos of babies that seem to make their way into the world, but I, like the wayward factory owner who refuses to diminish his bellowing CO2 emissions, am at present, quite simply adding to the problem. How can one go from objector to mega pixel-fuelled proponent in such a short time, I'm not sure, the only thing I do know is that after becoming a dad I now find myself in two roles-one as parent the other as baby documenter.

Oh, here are some photos, note podginess and cuteness.

The bottom lip wobble

Looking at most of our pictures you would think that our baby is a perfect angel, forever smiling contentedly, sleeping peacefully or moving between the two. Well, of this is the case most of the time I assure you...hmm... but there are the occasional moments when things are not quite so peaceful.

Friends have told us to make sure we capture these grumpy moments as well. We'd hate to forget that sad face, in particular the bottom lip wobble which tells us he's hungry, or tired, or tired and hungry or some variation on those two. I know we shouldn't really be celebrating the cry but he does look sooo cute when he's upset, as i'm sure you'll agree.

Tomorrow he is having his first vaccination and I'm already worried that we'll uncover a new and possibly less cute cry when the doctor comes at him with a huge needle!

What's with the hair?

Everyone who meets Alex for the first time, and sometimes the second and third time says one thing to me "have you put gel in his hair?".

Firstly... seriously, would any vaguely reasonable mother put styling products on her 7 week old son?

Secondly... what are you trying to say about my beautiful baby boy's barnet?

Thirdly... OK, I kind of see your point... he looks a lot like he's trying to grow a mohawk. I have made vain attempts to tame his enthusiastic locks but his hair has a life of its own. Perhaps a visit to the hairdresser is in order after all...

Happiest time of the day

The little man is almost 7 weeks and the smiles are coming much more frequently - even the odd giggle and no more wind confusion. But when do you think he's at his happiest?

Alas, it's not sitting on his mother's lap, nor bathtime with dad or even cuddles with Nanna B. Our bubby might not greet every morning with a smile and a twinkle in his eye but there is one thing that is sure to light up his 48 day old life - and that is kicking around without his nappy on!



Pop him on the change table, whip off that nappy and Alex is guaranteed to give you a big smile accompanied by a some ecstatic leg kicking and a variety of weird and wonderful noises. Of course there are a few hazards in this activity, namely dodging the occasional pee fountain and catching a projectile poop but it's all worth it to see that smile on his face.

The baby doctor said her two boys were exactly the same and at 4 and 6 years they still love running around naked. So the preference for nakedness may get him into trouble in the future but for now it's just cute.

p.s. the video above is waist up to preserve the little man's privacy... and protect the camera from an unexpected projectile!

you've got mail

I'm kind of surprised at how much we've taken to this parenting business. I know I've had very little practice with very little people in my life except the odd cuddle with a friend's bubby - followed by the swift 'pass back to mum' move . But it's true what people say, it all kind of comes to you as you go along... so far anyway.

Despite this, I can't help feeling like we're on some kind of crazy ride, a virtual reality parenting game - a kind of human tamagotchi that we get to feed, change and play with for a while but give back at the end of the game

Occasionally I'm reminded me that it's all very real and for some reason this letter arriving in the post was one of those moments. This was Alex's first piece of mail, a very official looking - note the use of his full name... it's kind of like he's in trouble. And the whole 'parent or guardian of' business reminds me of an bad US drama series, where the parents answer the door and there's two grave-faced policemen saying "mam, are you the parent or guardian of Alexander Auberon Butler?". It turns out it's just a letter from the Home Office with his passport application. So now I'm off to get a passport photo for the little man... at least he's too young to be embarrassed by it.

the force is strong in this bath...

OK, I don't really have anything to say but isn't this the cutest picture of Alex, just out of the bath?

Weighing in to the weight debate

So yesterday we had a visit from Sallie the health visitor. For those not in the UK, a health visitor is a kind of midwife/nurse/medical type person who, as the name suggests, 'visits' you in your home after your baby is born. The very friendly Sallie said I could contact her with any questions at all, either about me or about the bubble, any time from now until he's about 18 years old... well not quite. This is all very nice but really I was just interested in one thing, how much does the bubby weigh?

I'm not sure how I've become someone obsessed with how much baby tub my little one has put on since he arrived in the world. It is a hot topic for all new parents... when you tell someone you've had a baby the first thing they ask, after 'boy or girl?' is 'what was the weight?'. When mums meet the conversation always turns to baby size at some point 'she's grown so much' or 'he's so much lighter than...' etc. etc. Strangely enough people become less keen on public conversations about weight as you get older.

But it doesn't stop at birth, the obsession with weight continues, apparently, in the weeks and months which follow. The thing is, when you are solely responsible for feeding and watering the little darling it somehow feels, rightly or wrongly, like a the number on the scales is a direct reflection on your parenting abilities.

I promise to get over it soon... but for the time being:

Alexander Auberon Butler
Birth weight: 3.8kgs
After 9 days: 4.2kgs
After 5 weeks: 5kgs

whatever that means...

Bubble's audio visual debut!

Mobile magic

Our current favourite baby related acquisition, which has paid for itself over and over again, is this humble mobile.

It seems, at first glance, like a kind of overpriced tacky plastic thing that you regret purchasing as soon as you remove it from its amazon packaging... but it's SO much more.

The so called 'infant stimulation mobile' was recommend to me by a recently babied work colleague and has had young Alex transfixed on the change table for several minutes ever since he was about 2 weeks old. And it seems calm quiet minutes are valuable things when it comes to babies, particularly when you're attempting to get a vest over their surprisingly large heads, or wondering at their frighteningly full nappies, or dodging a fountain of pee because you forgot to check which way 'it' was pointing... but that's another story.

The search for the Sasquatch is over...

At times it's hard to believe that Bigfoot (Alex), is only three weeks old . For people that haven't met him in the flesh, imagine Clint Eastwood as a baby- and you get the picture. He just looks old. In his future I see groups of babies huddled around the corner of Mothercare, willing him through the doors to buy their formula. He'd never get 'carded'.

To add to the situation, his beloved mother loves dressing him in what i term 'little worker mans clothes'.

Though utterly, completely cute- I swear that while she's fussing with the complicated combination of straps and buttons, I see him glance over her shoulder at me, his big blue eyes begging for me to intervene. Yep for the minute, this little man loves big comfort, no pomp of ceremony, just the simplicity of a cotton babygrow, and who can blame him.