Flying solo

Eventually it was going to happen.  With my wife being an air stewardess, eventually I was going to be "left holding the baby" whilst she flew through the skies.  It's not as though I don't know how to look after my daughter, it's just that generally I do it on my own for an afternoon, or an evening, or for twenty minutes whilst she pops to the shops - this time it was a whole weekend.

With the rather rapid realisation that the list of all the jobs I usually save for the weekend were out the window, I mentally pulled together some of the things that would keep me sane, and more importantly keep India entertained.  The worst part about it was the forecast of rain the entire weekend, and I'm not sure that I'm ready to subject myself to a soft play centre on a Saturday afternoon.  

On getting her ready to leave the house for a slightly less entertaining trip to the butchers (while the cat's away, the husband will have steak), it dawned on me that I would actually be able to dress my daughter, without having to worry about whether the shade of tights that I put on her, match the stitching of her dress.  This in itself was a small but significant victory over the weekend to come.

I came to realise quite quickly that this was a great opportunity for me to spend some real one-on-one time with India and regain some of the lost hours of the working week.  I devoted myself to this mantra so much so that I spent half an hour pushing her on the swings in the park, yes, half an hour, my arm turned to jelly and I waited ten minutes to get the feeling back before I could drive the car home.  To be honest hearing her constant giggles for the best part of thirty minutes was well worth it.

Constantly running around after the little people for most of the day can challenge your sanity somewhat.  To counteract this I decided that it would be a fantastic idea to take the opportunity to tick a job off my "normal weekend list" - popping India in her cot; I attempted putting up her book shelf.  I'm pretty sure shelves are supposed to be level with the wall; mine was reminiscent of a ramp.

Moving my attention away from home improvements, and concentrating more on weaning improvements, I thought it a good idea to allow India to be a bit bolder with her self-feeding.  She's pretty keen anyway, normally battling to get hold of the spoon and then within the blink of an eye, catapulting its contents across the kitchen.  I went for the 'no spoon' option with her beef goulash and mash.  She delightfully scooped a great handful and promptly smeared it all over her face, and the floor.

I think what summed up my weekend flying solo most was India's latest vocabulary addition.  On more than one occasion, either when she dropped something, lost something, missed her mouth or fell on her bum, she mumbled "Oh dear".  I'm hoping that it's just a sound that she's picked up rather than a reflection of my parenting skills.  I guess we'll only start to find out once I've had a few more weekends of just the two of us.

The Christening

I'm not the biggest fan of religious events.  Christmas is all right I suppose, Easter has become commercially chocolate. Holi looks like a lot of fun, but Ramadan seems like a lot of hard work.  A christening or a wedding on the other hand I don't mind - I feel like they serve a purpose as important milestones in a lot of people's life, including my own.

The wife and I decided that we wanted India christened.  After all, we had to make the decision as she's only 11 months and probably not capable of making that choice herself.  We decided to keep it a low key affair, and opted for the ceremony to be held at the local church up the road, which incidentally, is the oldest building in Brighton and Hove - should India require bragging rights when she's older.  I also learnt from the personable reverend that it's actually called 'Baptism' in the Church of England - I stand absoluted.

We also opted to have a small afternoon tea style shindig back at our house afterwards.  I say small shindig, although I was secretly harbouring the desire to put on a reasonable sized house party, as since our wedding the opportunities to celebrate at scale with our friends has somewhat diminished.  Given my wife was to be studying for her cabin crew exams, the responsibility of organising the entire day, fell anxiously into my lap.  Don't get me wrong though, I'm a planner, so I was relishing the task at hand - although there are definitely a few rules that I will follow in future

·         Do a background check on your Godparents - "Legally", someone cannot become a Godparent if they've not previously been baptised.  We have two Godparents and two "Guardians" as a result.

·         Choose the short ceremony - There are two standard options for a christening, one with hymns and readings (1 hour), one without (20 minutes).

·         Remember it's not your wedding - It's centred around your baby, it's not going to turn into an all night rave.

·         Ensure there are enough cars for old people - You don't want the great-grandparents turning up to the church an hour after it's finished.

·         Book your on-line shopping slot - Don't leave it to arrive until lunchtime the day before, it'll just make you stressed.

·         Beg, borrow or buy gazebos - You can't predict the weather and you don't want 30 people squeezed into your lounge/kitchen.

·         Hire staff - This will mean that you actually say more than three words to each guest for the duration of the afternoon.

·         Bake in time, and then freeze - Remember you are not Paul Hollywood; you will only become tetchy when trying to whip up 40 scones in an hour.

·         Vary the drinks - Pimm's is nice, but you can't drink it all day and it's not everyone's cup of tea.

·         Vet the Vegan's - You don't want to embarrass yourself by serving a piece of roasted pepper on a cocktail stick.

The day actually went incredibly well.  The christening was great, and I think India enjoyed the attention.  It was tough to watch the reverend wipe oil in her newly washed hair (he later informed me that it was rose oil from the Body Shop - and who said catholic consumerism was dead...), and it was a very happy day overall.  I will however, should we have a second, be having the aftermath at a local pub, as scraping cake crumbs from your carpet, with a hangover, on a Sunday afternoon isn't fun for anyone.