The Rise and Rise of Big Brother

I have just read a terrifying report in the Daily Mail. Not a paper unknown for its scaremongering but even so this story should make every sensible Briton feel a whisper of fear for a Government report has raised the spectre of humans being implanted with microchips like dogs.

These chips would contain medical information, police records and could eb used to track you wherever you were. Employers could keep tabs on employees, husbands on wives and mothers on children. It is just one step away from George Orwell's iconic 1984. His book may have been a work of fiction but it is fast becoming the reality and it frightens me to death what sort of a world I am having to raise Pork Chop in.

The day the Government forces us to be microchipped is the day I emigrate. Fast. Our freedom has already taken a tremendous battering under this New Labour leviathan which seems intent on controlling us right down to knowing which brand of breakfast cereal we eat. Free speech is becoming more and more of a myth. If we could all talk freely then we wouldn't be on blogger all talking anonymously for fear of loss of jobs, home, liberty and so on. It comes to something when a web site, mumsnet.com to be precise, cannot talk at all about Gina Ford, a pre-eminent childcare expert because a few members made contrary statements about her. The web site is for mums with children and is everything about children and their upbringing. Surely a discussion on Gina Ford is a legitimate topic of conversation? Apparently Ms Ford's over zealous and Draconian lawyers think not.

Anyway I digress. The idea of microchipping is abhorrent. We would lose all freedom and Great Britain would effectively become one giant prison where people would have to ask permission to go away for the weekend or do the weekly trip to the supermarket. God forbid anyone would want to go abroad - I am sure the paperwork would take weeks with the Government rubbing its greedy little hands gleefully as it sets up yet another unelected unaccountable quango, employing thousands of faceless civil servants to deal with the applications.

The whole thing makes me feel quite ill and as I said I fear for Pork Chop's future - what sort of world are we bringing are children up in? What sort of a life are they going to have after we're gone and they have children of their own. Sometimes it really doesn't bear thinking about.

Church in the 21st century

Today we took Pork Chop to church for only the second time in her little life. This time though it was actually in her honour as opposed to being there for a wedding and was part of the pre-christening duties we had to attend to.

Now I have mentioned the hassles surrounding the christening before but not the reasons why I decided to have her christened in the first place. I am not at all religious and generally only attend church for births, marriages and deaths. I did toy for a long time with the idea of a civil naming ceremony and still think it might have been the better option for us but in the end, decided to stick with tradition and go for a full christening.

Pork Chop by the way is sitting on the floor doing a big shit. I can hear her straining as I type this post.

I felt a christening for tradition, superstition and because it is a good excuse for a big party would be the best thing for Pork Chop. Yesterday we went for the exorcism. And no, it wasn't anything like a scene from the exorcist with vomit spewing forth from both myself and The Other Half as Satan struggled to break free. The exorcism was actually a powerful prayer to protect Pork Chop from evil spirits but it happened right at the very end of the service so we were stuck there entertaining the poor little mite for and hour and a half.

What struck me though is, whether you believe in God or not, how nice everyone there was. It was refreshing to meet people who were genuinely friendly and didn't want anything from you. I feel sorry for them that in this supposedly enlightened society of religious equality and freedom of expression we live in practising Christians are made to feel as though they are doing something taboo. If you are Muslim, Sikh, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Scientologist and so on you can shout it from the roof tops, where your Hijab with pride, take your daily prayers without being interrupted or ridiculed. But if you are a British Christian then even wearing a small cross on a chain is seen as a no no - the British Airways case ongoing at the moment in which a check in staff member has been suspended for doing such a thing is a prime example. Why the double standards?

Men and motors and the irresponsibility of money lending

We have a new car - the deal was signed yesterday and hopefully we pick it up in a week's time, just in time for Pork Chop's long awaited christening. Incidentally, I am writing this while drinking a cup of tea and simultaneously preparing her breakfast of creamy porridge and lunch for later of homemade fish savoury and leek and potato fromage frais - now that's multi-tasking for you.

As I was saying we have a nice bright, shiny, new BMW on its way to us. It will replace our Ford Focus, which is not nearly so nice but we have only had for ten months. This isn't necessarily a bad thing because a few weeks ago we inadvertently spilt some cream, well actually a whole carton's worth, in one of the back footwells. Long story involving me cooking desserts for a big family gathering at the Mother's. Anyhow, the car now stinks and despite my best efforts with the Bissel I still can't get rid of the smell. It is now something akin to child's vomit or a dead rat.

So we have this lovely new diesel BMW 120 on its way to us - in my name. Yes, despite not a earning a bean at the moment as I sit on my arse doing nothing more creative than blogging while on maternity leave I have managed to get myself in hock to a finance company to the tune of £12,000. The Other Half will pay for it but the fact it is still in my name, while sometimes exciting, is also rather worrying. Morbid I know, but what if he dies? What is the protocol for taking out life insurance in someone else's name just in case?

The reason it is in my name is because he is self employed - credit rating computers don't like that, he has an ex-wife who will literally stop at nothing to ruin his life and take any penny he earns (A BMW is a big give away that he is doing okay for himself) and he also has a shit credit rating because the aforementioned ex wife ran up huge debts on their joint accounts and credit cards after they had separated.

Ironically though, even if I do go back to work full-time The Other Half will still earn six or seven times my salary which is the grand scheme of things is itself above the national average and very respectable yet it is me the banks are happy to throw credit at. Now wonder IVAs are up 53 per cent and bankruptcies are supposed to top 100,000 this year

People who surprise you

Two days ago I mentioned I was going to visit my aunt who has breast cancer. With a box of chocolates, flowers and Pork Chop in tow I arrived at 3pm and I was pleasantly surprised to see how well she looked considering she is about to undergo her third lot of chemo next week.

She looked slimmer and healthy and her hair was a lovely warm chestnut shade, cut into quite a modern style, although still a bit mumsy. Now, my aunt has always had a pudding bowl haircut which is a delicate grey. At first I didn't like to ask if she had had her hair done or whether it was a wig. As it turned out, when I finally plucked up the courage it turned out it was a wig as her own hair has fallen out. However, it really really suits her and you would never tell it was false hair. It is amazing what a change of hair colour can do for someone's appearance and I hate to say it but it looked a damn sight better than my aunt's own hair, not that I said that to her face. But anyway, I was amazed that despite her illness she looked really really good.

She is quite stoic is my aunt and is taking things in her stride. The prognosis is good and if she can endure chemo now then there is every chance she will be cured and won't get secondary cancer, which is, quite literally, the killer.

The reason she surprised me though was not so much her appearance but what she said to me during conversation. Now I am by no means a prude (indeed if you have read any of my previous posts you will know it is quite the opposite) so when I told her the story of how my boss got into trouble in his previous job for calling one of his female employees a fucking cunt in front of the rest of the staff and how it worried me about what reception I might get in returning to work I naturally said f-ing c-u-n-t to soften the blow.

My aunt however, in a lovely home counties accent, retorted: "Well, he can't be a very nice man if he calls someone a cunt can he."

I must have sat there open-mouthed for a good few seconds before recovering my composure. She carried on as if she had done nothing more innocuous than pass comment on the awful weather.

It just goes to show you can never judge someone by their appearance and even close family can end up surprising you.

The things life throws at you

I am currently in the process of deciding whether or not to go back to work. I am in the fortunate position of not having to go back because The Other Half earns enough to support us all. However, I hate no longer having my own money and being made to feel guilty because I am not "bringing home the bacon". Consequently, despite the fact I think my boss is a bit of a prat and I don't expect he will make my returning to work particularly easy (see previous posts) I have asked to do three days a week. At the moment I am still waiting to see what, if anything they will offer me and whether it is worth my while to go back or not.

In the meantime I have also asked a couple of pr contacts if they have any work - no point putting all my eggs in one basket. I also received a letter from the doctors about my most recent smear test and I am happy to say, after having several dodgy ones, it is now clear which is a relief. I can't say the same for my aunt who Pork Chop and I are off to visit today because she has breast cancer and is undergoing chemo. Plus she is also married to my uncle who is a bit of a pompous old git on occasion and enough to try anyone's patience.

All this got me thinking about actually how lucky I am. I have a beautiful daughter who is generally very well behaved - she is asleep right now. I have a partner who, while he won't yet entertain marriage and can be a bit of a self righteous twat on occasion, is very good to me and I love him very much. I myself am happy and healthy and get to swan around at coffee mornings, the gym and yoga. Take the housework away and I would be laughing. So all in all though I may bitch and moan about my life I think it is pretty good.

With all that in mind I am now going to attempt to moan and bitch less on these pages. I wonder how long it will last?

Hurrah I finally got a shag!

Yes it is true, last night I did actually manage to get a shag off The Other Half. In fact he was for once quite up for it. It was however, more of a bully shag - a wham bam thank you mam which left me a little unsatisfied. That said I will take anything I can get right now and thankfully my rabbit finished the job this morning.

Anyway, that really is all I have to say today as I am totally knackered. I went to the gym this morning for a spin class while Pork Chop went to the creche but I still have a bit of a cold so found it a tad tiring. It didn't help that the instructor was my least favourite and about as inspiring as a mouldy dog turd.

Nice people and a shite life

Yes it really is 4.30am and I am really writing this when I could be sleeping. I am well aware I am probably going to feel really shit when Pork Chop does wake up because, unlike me, she won't want a lie in.

Yesterday I had a big row with The Other Half over the most stupid of things. For the second time in a month I have managed to get a parking fine because I was slightly over my ticket limit. Annoying yes, my fault obviously, a waste of money definitely, but worth having an argument over?

The argument went something like this.

The Other Half(ironing his trousers because I didn't do it properly, hmm): "You know that parking ticket really isn't on, you really shouldn't have got it."

Me: "It wasn't intentional, I was just a bit over my time."

The Other Half talking to me like I am an imbecile: "Well, how much over your time? I mean you must have realised. You buy a ticket, you check the time, you make sure you are back and you don't get booked. It really isn't on."

Me getting slightly annoyed now: "I don't know how much, maybe ten minutes. I must have misread the ticket. If it bothers you that much I will pay for it out of my own savings."

The Other Half: "Well just really isn't on. It is just wasteful. You must have realised." (How many times does he have to say that I get the point.)

Me really annoyed: "Like I said I didn't do it on purpose. You are being unfair and like I also said I WILL PAY FOR IT OUT OF MY OWN MONEY SO IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM."

The Other Half: "Fine, whatever."

Me: "Fine."

But I wasn't fine about it. I was really upset and very annoyed that he had decided to have a go. This whole thing continued on text after he went to work eventually at midday. I admit it was my fault and I should have checked the tickets properly. I admit it is an awful waste of £60 for the two tickets but I don't think I deserve to be pilloried from here to the ends of the earth. There are far worse crimes to commit if you ask me. There are also double standards at work here.

The Other Half went on about how wasteful it was but this is coming from a man who thinks nothing of spunking a few hundred quid in a casino, who borrowed my credit card and splashed out on £200 worth of champagne in a bar with his mates while I was home alone with Pork Chop, who regularly buys a weekly ticket to London but only goes in for a day, thereby wasting £75. I don't earn anymore so I budget like mad and always ask him if I am going to spend money on anything else. I even asked "permission" to buy a pair of £7 slippers because mine were literally falling to bits.

I hate this - I was once an independent woman with my own disposable income. Now I am an emasculated mother made to feel wasteful because of a couple of parking tickets. Do I cancel the hair appointment I have booked even though I haven't had it cut in months? Do I not buy a pair of smart trousers even though my last pair ripped because they had worn through and I now have none. What is the social protocol when you are no longer an earner and beholden to your partner?

So as a result I have decided, if it does nothing else than to get The Other Half off my back, to go back to work. It's not something I particularly want to do in my old job so I have asked a couple of PR firms I know. Actually come to think of it. It isn't something I want to really do full stop but I don't feel I have much of a choice or I will always get the "I'm the one bringing home the bacon and therefore can do what I like argument".

Anyway onto slightly nicer matters. I took Pork Chop out just to the supermarket and for once, despite my rant the other day about being invisible, encountered lovely people. The cashier was a particularly friendly man, the man who gave my lottery tickets (yes I live in hope) also had a ready smile and a joke. Other people were friendly and apologised for being in the way.

And most exciting of all, for me at least, is that Pork Chop has cut her first two teeth.

Weaning time and the boss from hell

Now Pork Chop is nearing seven months I am well on the way to weaning her off the boobies and onto solid foods. I am actually quite enjoying finding different foods and pureeing them all up for her. It even tastes quite nice although it all does tend to look rather similar. The thing that struck me as amusing about it while I did the shopping yesterday, online of course, was that I spend all this time buying her special organic foods - the best quality apples, the nicest and juiciest pears, butternut squash untainted by chemicals and potatoes grown as they should be. There is not a GM tomato in sight when it comes to Pork Chop and I would be horrified at the thought of anything so unpure passing her lips.

When it comes to myself and The Other Half however it is a different story - any old crap will do. "What?! Have you seen the price of those organic sausages?" I remark and opt for the cheapo, ten per cent sausage, 90 per cent nasty old shite instead. I can't understand why I do it because before long Pork will be eating what we eat and so at some point in the near future we are going to have to marry the two diets up. But therein lies my dilemma. How do I do it without compromising her dietry integrity but not breaking the bank by going totally organic because it is bloody expensive. I realise that in actually have such a dilemma in the first place I am also being more than a little pretentious. In fact I am in grave danger of having my head stuck so far up my own arse I might disappear.

But anyhow, onto more pressing matters. My friend having the boyfriend trouble really has had the bad luck gremlin sitting on her shoulder this week. She eventually met up with the boyf, big long discussion ensued and they decide to split. For Good. That was until he called her and said he thought he might have been too rash and perhaps they should rethink things. Personally I don't understand what there is to rethink - he is a pyscho with a short temper and a bad attitude. But as I mentioned yesterday the lure of the cock after a long dry spell is a strong one.

Not only that but my poor friend, who is also a work colleague and technically my immediate boss, has been effectively pushed out of her job. It is abundantly clear our boss hasn't wanted her there since he started. I got the same appalling treatment to a certain extent as well until he found out I was pregnant and then backed off either a) because he was worried about me suing if anything happened to the baby or b) he was hoping I might just have her and never come back, thereby solving the problem of how he might eventually get rid of me. Anyway, she has had to put up with his mysogynistic shit for months. No matter what she does it is wrong, if she does something quickly she is wrong, slowly and she is wrong, she is even wrong about things that she wasn't in work for because she was on holiday. You get what I am saying, nothing she does in his eyes, for whatever reason will ever be right. It is a shame because she is highly talented and organised and the newsroom runs a whole lot better for her presence.

As I said she has been subject to his foul attempts to oust her for some time and she has actively been looking for another job. I am pleased to say she has just got one which is better paid and offers better career prospects. Which is just as well because yesterday he called her in to say she wasn't doing her job properly and he is planning on taking disciplinary procedures against her if she doesn't improve in a month. Now if you have the jist of what I have been saying you will no doubt realise that whatever she does, she could fly around the newsroom, wearing a tutu with truly groundbreaking stories coming out of her ears and it still wouldn't be enough. He has it in for her plain and simple and if she doesn't leave now then he will make damn sure she will with a black mark on her employment record.

He is nasty, manipulative and has effectively forced her out of her job. I think she has grounds for constructive dismissal and hope she goes for it. I am pleased she has a new job to go to though but it does seriously make me reconsider going back. I am quite convinced I will be next in his firing line if I do.

And they say we live in the 21st Century. Hmmm....

Still no sex for me

As an addendum to my last post I still haven't seen any action for several days despite my best efforts. The Other Half had a nocturnal moment last night and stayed up playing on the computer while I slept on my own. I fear today will be no better but when the going gets tough the girl heads to her trusty porn box.

P.S. My beautiful Pork Chop has yet another cold so no sleep for me anway at the moment.

My friend's dating disaster

I know I may moan about The Other Half rather a lot by I am actually quite happy with him and grateful we are in a longterm loving relationship even if he can be a lazy arsehole on all too frequent basis. I do miss those first tentative shags with a new partner and the excitement of meeting someone new but on the whole I am really rather glad to have settled down.

The advantages of this are as I see it:

- No more nervous first fumblings - The Other Half has a pretty good idea of what I like now.
- No more embarrassing STD tests because a) the condom split or b) you forgot to put one on during your drunken stupor.
- No more waiting by the phone, checking your messages for the thousandth time that morning to see if he has called.
- Less need to keep your bits trimmed - although I do personally like to maintain a high standard in that area because even if you are familiar with your partner it is nice to have something to tempt him down there rather than some out of control hairy muff monster.
- You don't have to run to the loo the morning after to brush your teeth, adjust your makeup and brush your hair - The Other Half is aware I am human and look not disimilar to a yeti with bad breath first thing.
- And finally, you can take a pee in front of him while he is brushing his teeth/shaving and he doesn't think it is a bit too familiar (He has after all seen me giving birth so the lack of toilet etiquette is mild by comparison).

However, I draw the line at farting. No matter how well you know someone it is never nice to have your head held under the duvet while he lets one rip in your face.

A close friend of mine is currently going through a bit of a relationship crisis. She is in her early 30s and although she won't admit it, would secretly like to settle down with someone worthwhile. Her current beau in my view is clearly not the man for the job.

She freely admits he is not longterm boyfriend material and has a temper which she euphemistically describes as "a bit volatile". Although I would say that was being generous after he screamed at her in the street for walking to the next pub, not realising he wasn't behind her because he had nipped off for a quick piss in an alley, and then stormed off shouting in her face: "What part of fuck off do you not understand?" A slight overreaction some might say.

However, she also freely admits he is fabulous in the sack, a little rough and dirty (not necessarily a bad thing if you ask me), but nevertheless he presses all her buttons. The Other Half reckons she is in love with him but after 18 months of abstinence I think she is in love with his meat and two veg. And cock love, which some might call lust, never lasts forever and is certainly not a good foundation on which to build a relationship.

Last I heard she was going to "talk" with him and I don't know what the outcome was. I really want her to be happy because she is a fabulous person and deserves better but that is up to her - I shall keep you posted once I know myself.

My day as the invisible man

Today I have been attempting my domestic goddess routine. It had all been going so well despite Pork Chop being up half the night so I am knackered. I cleaned the kitchen, the toilet, whizzed up some delightful organic pureed mush for her, took her for a jab and sorted all the washing. I also managed a walk in the park and unsurprisingly I was as usual ignored, forced to move out the way and generally looked down upon by certain non-parent people.

That's not to say that everyone is like that. To be fair there are some lovely people who are courteous when someone is pushing a pram up a steep hill and will allow you to pass without forcing you off the pavement but it seems that more often than not, a mother or father is viewed as a second class citizen. You become almost invisible, you feel guilty for standing in front of the magazine rack in WH Smith because a 19-year-old huffs and can't reach the latest copy of Closer. You blush and move on hurriedly as you struggle with baby and cappuccino in Starbucks. People walk in front of you, let doors go in your face or stop abruptly so you are forced to either ram the pushchair into their legs or perform the infant equivalent of an emergency stop. All this, has led me to think what is it about pregnancy and parenting that makes us so invisible or worthy of contempt from the general population?

It not only affects day to day shopping trips but the workplace is a hotbed for it as well. We may be in the 21st century but I would not call us all that enlightened. A prime example is my boss, who if he knew I was writing this would probably kill me, or at least sack me on the spot. While legally I am entitled to return to work I have more than a sneaking suspicion he would be dancing on his desk if I didn't. I don't think it is just me either, he seems to have a certain amount of difficulty in dealing with female employees and as a rule doesn't like us very much.

i remember one particular news conference where the news list was shit - there were no good news stories that day and God himself wouldn't have been able to alter that. I had the dubious pleasure of taking afternoon conference with him and after I did my best to sell my lacklustre list to him I got the usual bollocking - now this is the law of the land in newspapers as a rule. If you don't have decent stories, and sometimes even if you do, it is the editor's God given right to still make you feel like a tit in front of your colleagues. You get used to it and develop a thick skin. However, a colleague who remained with him after conference then told me he had said: "Oh, it must be because she is pregnant."

And that is what I object to - since when does the fact I am pregnant have anything at all to do with the type of news on the agenda. Just because I am knocked up doesn't make a story shit or good. It is what it is.

He is not the only example of the complete lack of equality when it comes to pregnant women. At the time I was only a couple of months gone I was also doing semi-regular shifts for a national newspaper which shall remain nameless. A friend of mine on staff there mentioned to the newsdesk I was pregnant and hey presto! no more shifts and a p45 in the post the following week. Fuck you very much. It could be that they thought I was shit but considering up until that point they seemed quite happy to keep calling me back I suspect it might have something to do with being up duff.

So all in all it left with quite a nasty taste in my mouth regarding the newspaper industry I work in which isn't child friendly at the best of times. But as I mentioned this second rate standards for parents and parents to be also extends to the rest of society. Granted kids can be bloody irritating, especially when they are someone elses, but please give us a chance - just because we have had them doesn't mean we're fucked up and incapable too.

Post baby sex

I have just finished reading and been very impressed by Girl with a one track mind - now here is a girl after my own heart. I love sex just as much as her even if my sex life has taken somewhat of a hammering, and I don't mean literally, since I gave birth to Pork Chop. Two tears, five stitches and forcing out an 8lb 10oz baby with no pain relief has a tendancy to make you lose your horn.

I have to admit The Other Half and I rather rashly decided to give it a go just five weeks post coitally. Probably not the best plan in the world but when you have two people with rampant sex drives, which is how Pork Chop came about in the first place, then it seems like rather a good idea. Trouble was with the best will in the world it was still rather painful for me and achieving orgasm was a distant dream.

Fast forward a few months and with a bit of healing and a few practice sessions with my trusty rabbit and I had a sort of epiphany - sex no longer hurt. Mildly uncomfortable perhaps but at least it was no longer downright agony.

Since then things have steadily improved but we have now been confronted with another problem - Pork Chop is now older, much more alert and less sleepy and dramatically lessens the chances of a spontaneous midday fuck (The Other Half can pick and choose when he works so this is in theory a possiblity).

Anyway, after reading Girl With a One Track Mind and having a look at her blog I admit it turned me on and gave me food for thought. I used to be like that once, I used to enjoy random fucks with near strangers and knocked one out on a regular basis when the shags were scarce. Even falling into a monogamous relationship with The Other Half did nothing to dampen my drive for cock. I vividly recall having the day off work last summer, lying on the lawn at his mother's house in a tiny bikini ( before I acquired my muffin middle) and already two-thirds of the way through a bottle of Pimms. My best friend called and while I chatted on her mobile The Other Half pulled my bikini bottoms to one side and slipped his cock in from behind. It was certainly hard to maintain a normal conversation.

As I said, since having Pork Chop that has petered out somewhat. But last night I decided to take the bull by the horns or by the cock depending on how you look at it and inject some spontaneity. As he lay on the sofa I sidled up and began fondling his dick through his jeans. He didn't seem to mind but hadn't yet drawn his eyes from Mythbusters on TV so I undid his buttons and slipped my hand inside. He was beginning to get hard, an obviously good sign, so I went further and dipped my tongue in and out just tickling the end of his knob. It was all the encouragement he needed to manoeuvre his cock free and let me take it fully into my mouth. He moaned and I continued enthusiastically, enjoying the feel of it. But abruptly he stopped.

Him: "Save it for later honey. I'll fall asleep if I come now."

Me: "Oh, but it's nice. Pork Chop is asleep."

Him: "Seriously, you can have knobbings later."

Somewhat frustrated I disappeared upstairs and finished off with my rabbit. Fast forward to bedtime and he was much more up for his blow job so I carried on where I left off. I even got a brief shag out of it but due to my previous self pleasuring and the fact he was getting worn out (unfit bastard!) I just couldn't reach orgasm, and of course I couldn't tell it's because I had been busy while he watche TV. So in the end he came and I was left slightly unfulfilled.

Now my sex drive has returned and things no longer hurt I would love to fuck more often but it seems I have lot of work ahead of me - case in point, we could upstairs right now for a lazy Sunday night length but instead we are sitting downstairs, watching TV and he has just put the arse shaking channels on - not exactly a turn on.

If there are any other mums out there experience the same lacklustre love life I would love to hear from them....

Jackpot

It seems like ages since I last bothered to write anything and indeed, it is about 2am as I do this. Pork Chop is staying overnight with her grandad for the first time and I am a little tearful because she has never been away from me for more than a few hours. I am sure she is fine but I still find it a little upsetting.

The reason she is staying with my dad is so The Other Half and I could go out for the evening. I thought we could have a nice meal a few drinks and maybe some drunken sex after. As you may have guessed, the fact I am writing this in the early hours of the morning should give you some indication that all did not go according to plan.

It started to go slightly wrong when I suggested we eat out and he said he wasn't hungry. As a result I ended up having delightly un-cordon bleu salmon tartlets hastily bunged in the oven. We eventually got out the door at about 9pm - several hours after I had deposited Pork Chop with her Grandad. Several nasty cocktails which seemed suspiciously devoid of alcohol followed in a new bar close to our house. We actually had a fantastic seat right in the window, perfect for people watching. I have to admit I sat there rather smugly, watching various girls walk past with tree trunk legs and the proverbial muffin middle all the while thinking, "I've had a baby and I am still skinnier than you."

By 11pm we had decided to head off to the local casino. We paused briefly to stare at a full packet of B&H lying on the pavement and tempting though it was, we resisted the slightly scuaay urge to pick them up and smoke them. Two hours later we were still in said casino and The Other Half was on a winning streak having gone from £60 to around about £500 at the last count. I have to admit I was getting a bit tired by this point and, concsious of the fact I have to pick up Pork Chop tomorrow and entertain her, said it was time for me to go home. At this point in time I was under the belief he was still a gentleman however, the conversation went something like this:

"I am really tired hon, I am going to head home."

"Are you sure, you don't want to stay a little longer? I have never had luck like this."

"I'm sure. I know that tomorrow afternoon, and I am not trying to be horrid, but you will be able to sleep while I won't get the chance because I have to look after Pork Chop."

"Don't worry I'll look after her." (Oh and pigs might fly)

"Well, I am going to head home anyway. I'll leave the keys under the mop in the shed."

"Okay, see you later, bye."

Maybe once again I am being unreasonable and just expecting a little too much but what I really wanted him to say was, "Okay, I'll finish up here and walk you home my love." Instead, I ended up walking home on my own trying to hold back the tears because a) I desperately miss my daughter whereas The Other Half seems unmoved and more interested in Blackjack and b) it feels like he doesn't really care about me if he is more interested in playing Blackjack rather than accompanying me through home late at night.

I managed to get through the fron door before actually bursting into tears. Gosh I sound really neurotic now and I wish I didn't care but I do

Anyway, to digress the christening thing is now sorted and it is going to be at the Indian restaurant. My mum and I are now talking again and I feel rather guilty at not giving her more of a chance to see she isn't an ogre. However, 28 years of being scared of your mother and trying to do things to please her is a hard habit to break.

I also have given up carrying Porl Chop in a Baby Bjorn sling now she is close to 20lb the little chunky monkey! I nearly broke my back walking to swimming with her because The Other Half wanted the car to play golf. If there are any mums out there with suggestions on other better ergonmically designed slings/baby back packs I would love to hear them.

I actually have tons more to say but there is Eurotrash-style porn and Snatch (not porn but the Guy Ricthie film on TV) which keeps taking my attention. I shall finish with the exciting news that I am actually back in one of my pre-preggy bras at last! Haven't quite finished the breast feeding yet, the bra is still a delicate shade of a thousand wash grey like most of my underwear these days and my bosoms tend to spill out over the top but it is wonderful to no longer be wearing great galloping boulder holders for nursing.

Oops I'm in trouble

I think I may have committed the social faux pas of the century this week. I have been trying, rather unsuccessfully, to organise Pork Chop's christening. Mother very kindly offered the use of her house for the reception afterwards. This was all very well and good until we realised there were certain conditions attached such as no fireworks in the garden, certain friends of hers being invited and an amount of huffing and puffing about the increasing numbers. The Other Half and I were also having some rip roaring rows about it.

It all came to a head at the weekend when he discovered she had pretty much insisted on friends of hers being on the list when we had actually not invited some of ours to try and keep numbers down. The Other Half hit the roof and then decided to move the whole thing to an Indian restaurant. It actually makes a lot of sense because now there is no organisation on our part required, I won't be stressing about my mother's house getting trashed, we can invite more people and as my parents are divorced there will be no horrible moments between ex and new spouses.

However, telling my mother was not as easy and she got a little uptight, turned her back on The Other Half as he was talking to us, gave me the guilt trip on Monday and hasn't spoken to us since. I am not quite sure what is happening now and The Other Half tells me not to call her. i think I should try and smooth things over but I think she has taken massive offence to it all. It's not that we don't appreciate her offer. We do. We just think this would make life a lot easier for all concerned.

Hey ho. Whatever I do I am in the wrong. If I now tell her we'll stick with at hers The Other Half will hate me for giving in to her emotional blackmail and the christening will be somewhat marred by everything that has happened. If I stick to the restaurant she will be put out and the christening will be marred. Bugger

AAAAAAAARGH!

Pork Chop won't stop crying and won't go to sleep for her nap which is driving me insane. The Other Half did eventually roll in very very late and slept on the sofa. We had a bit of a row yesterday but I just know he is only paying me lip service and actually doesn't really give a toss how I feel. Another fine example is right now. It is a weekend when for once it would be nice for me to actually have a lie in and not have to get up and give Pork Chop her breakfast. However, as per usual it was me who got out of bed while The Other Half went back to sleep "because he was tired". Well have I got news for him. I am permanently tired. I never get a break. Why should I always be the one who gets up for our daughter - he is more than capable he is just too sodding lazy to be bothered.

As usual if I bring it up up I will get the whole, "But I am the one bringing home the bacon" sketch and therefore it exonerates him from all fatherly and husbandly duties. I can't win and I am thoroughly sick of it. I don't think it is unreasonable to ask for one day a week when I could actually have a lie in. Some might argue as I am not earning much right now then that entitles him to behave as he sees fit. However, I disagree because a) raising a child takes an awful lot of effort and is not 9 to 5 and b) I am working hard to set up a freelance business alongside raising my daughter full-time. I am also considering going back to work at least part-time just so he can't throw that reasoning up everytime we have an argument.

Anyway this blog is in real danger of becoming one long rant and that isn't what it was intended for. We are actually off to my mother's today for a family gathering and I have made the desserts - three in total. A fresh lemon cheesecake, summerfruit meringues and two croquembouches piled high with cream, profiteroles and chocolate. I really quite enjoyed making them and hope they go down well.

My mother and I are generally pretty close but even she is starting to get on my nerves a little at the moment. Pork Chop is being christened next month and Mother kindly offered her house for the reception because it is closer to the church and a lot bigger than ours. But that offer wasn't unconditional I have since discovered and comes with the odd caveat here or there. Firstly, she is allowed to invite certain friends of hers who are not friends of ours thereby blowing our "small gathering of close friends and family" philosophy out of the window. The christening itself is on the evening of November 5th and we thought what a fantastic day to have some fireworks to celebrate. I mentioned this to Mother and got a right mouthful back about how it wasn't fair on the animals blah blah blah. A simple, "No, I don't think that is a good idea" would have sufficed but the way she was going on you would have thought I had asked her to line up the guests against the garage wall and let me take pot shots at them with an AK-47. She also seems to be getting uptight about the number of people we are now having which has mushroomed alarmingly and is trying to push me to have a certain caterer. It has got to the point where we have pretty much decided to find an alternative venue if we can and make up some excuse about why it would better there than at their house.

Ah families - you can't choose them and they f**k you up.