I've opted to stay in my PJ's today due to my lack of good track pants so here I sit recovering from a cold that has taken up the last few days of my life, seeing as baby had it too, as much as anything else. And what better way to put off packing up our house than writing a blog.

As having a baby really is all consuming I thought some attention needed to be paid to the topic. When I got married I knew two things: 1. I very much wanted to have kids and 2. I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. I'm quite good at procrastinating and reproduction was no exception. After 8 years of marriage we got the guts up to give it a go and our little boy arrived on the scene (in multicellular form of course). 9 months later he was in my arms.

The last year has given me opportunity to realise that today's western society is set up incredibly poorly. I mean isn't survival of the human race all important and yet when it comes to raising the next generation basically none of us have the first clue? Maybe it's just me but I don't think so. Before having my own baby the closest experience I'd had of looking after one was being one, 31 long years ago. Not much help thanks very much. Our society means we often have no experience of 'practicing' the whole parenting thing on unsuspecting younger siblings or other extended family members.

Now before I sound too much like a victim I do take some responsibility. In the late stages of pregnancy my sister, an experienced and wonderful mother, would kindly offer her help to reduce my phenomenal ignorance. 'Shall I show you how to change a nappy' she would ask. No thank you was always my reply. I couldn't quite articulate to her that I was so terrified that I would soon have responsibility of an actual living baby that to have any kind of 'dress rehearsal' would mean that it would become harder and harder to pretend my enourmous bump was just some kind of unfortunate swelling on my abdomen. The fact I should have taken her up on her offers became abundantly clear when I had to change a nappy for the first time. I didn't even know which was the front and the back so just had to hazard a guess and hope for the best. (why can't the just put the picture of winnie the pooh on the front of the nappy I ask?)

Nothing can prepare you for having a new born. I had so many ridiculous notions it's laughable (I can laugh now that I have recovered emotionally). Like 'babies sleep when they need to' and 'mummies get to nap during the day, whilst the baby does', 'it can't be that hard to fix a baby's crying can it?'. HA HA! The things they don't tell you in antenatal class. I'm not sure why though, seeing as you're at the point where you can't exactly back out of the situation, they might as well tell you how it is. Maybe they fear what would happen in a room full of overtired, hormonal pregnant women and stressed, soon to be fathers if they painted a true picture. At this juncture I feel I should point out my baby had reflux so I had an extra dose of screaming, sleep deprivation and stress for the first 4 months so my view is slightly screwed (oops I meant skewed).

Parenthood is frauhgt with decision making of the most complex and difficult nature. The fate of a tiny baby's future is in your hands. Right, nothing to freak out over then. One of the easier decisions was to go disposable or cloth with nappies. Easy, I decided, cloth it is. But shall I tell you why? The reason I love cloth nappies is that I get to feel SELF RIGHTEOUS. Up to 12 times a day. This is a good thing, I like feeling self righteous. And somehow while I am at home and can go for 10 hour stretches without seeing another living being besides my little one I feel connected to the universe, I am caring for God's awesome creation. I am using reusable nappies. Each time I open the smelly bucket I feel as if I am truly sacrificing for the greater good. Maybe greenpeace will show up at my door one day showering me with thanks and praise, maybe Oprah will run a feature on me and my great act of kindness towards this planet next Earth Day. Perhaps I shouldn't let on that it is my husband who does the worst part of putting the nappies in the wash. 'The bucket's too heavy' I whine, and every time he kindly aquiesces.

Of course there are many other decisions but I won't bore you with them now, I'll keep that for my next blog. All I can say is, I am eternally greatful for programmes like Supernanny and Nanny 911. I think they are designed for parents like me so that we don't feel so bad about the decidedly average job we are doing of raising our kids. 'Look at them',  we say to ourselves smugly as we watch, 'I would never do that with my kids'. And once again I get to feel self righteous. Very good for my ego. Perhaps it's even helped me off the slippery slope that leads to post natal depression. I know I'm not doing the best job of raising my precious boy but I also know I'm not doing the worst. And for that I am greatful.