Good Things, Bad Things (Meet Baby Mo-Me)

Mostly good, to be fair, but it's important to be honest

Yesterday I forgot the word “oven”, so you will believe me when I tell you my brain is not quite able for writing anything particularly insightful or intellectual right now. So instead, here are some Good Things and some Bad Things from my life (lately).

I hope you’ve been enjoying the guest posts I lined up for these few postpartum weeks — and as always, any questions, suggestions, issues or anything at all you’d like to highlight, leave a comment or reply directly to this email!

Good Things

The baby is here!
Roman Douglas Mac Cabe Wallace arrived (kicking, screaming) on December 20th in a scheduled C-section that was everything I’d hoped for (calm, straightforward, as good as an operation can be, if we’re being honest and acknowledging that operations are no fun). Despite being early (39 weeks), he weighed in at a whopping 9lbs 2oz and now, less than three weeks later, he’s too long for his 0-3 month onesies, which has thrown a serious spanner in the sartorial works. Nonetheless, I am managing to put him in plenty of ridiculous outfits, don’t you worry.

I am recovering!
I hesitate to say “nicely” because (see above), how “nicely” can one recover from an operation that slices you all the way open?! But recovery from this C-section has been a lot easier than my first for, I’m sure, a variety of reasons. And look: I’m not a doctor! I know that news will have come as a shock to a lot of you, but I’m not. I’ve never even done a first aid course (although the personal training qualification I received after eight weeks of part-time studying did allow me to call myself a nutritionist, in Ireland anyway, which should be warning enough to you any time you come across a “qualified” nutritionist¹)! My suspicion is that mindset has had a lot to do with my recover this time, along with: knowing what to expect; being absolutely determined to get up and walk around as soon as I possibly could; and taking alllllll of the stool softeners from midway through my pregnancy.

I’m still sore, and exhausted, and my bowels have yet to get back to their normal state (I’ve always been very regular, so let me tell you I am finding this quite taxing), but we’re getting there. (And no, I’m not napping when the baby naps, even though I wish I was because this baby naps a lot.)

Roman is getting used to his wrap!
As you well know, I am very easily influenced, and a lot of the baby things I bought for Atlas — and now for Roman — have been as a result of what I’ve seen other women I follow on Instagram buying and doing for their children. And let me tell you, I have not had great success with this tactic. Atlas hated his Snuggle Me Organic baby lounger (I just clicked on to the site there to get a link and the visceral rage I felt when I saw a picture of a happy baby laughing in his lounger, ugh) and never really got into the Solly Baby wrap. Which is why I am so delighted to report that Roman, after a slightly rough start (crying, hiccuping, burping, generally throwing a major wobbler), now seems to like the wrap! This morning I bundled him up in there and, sweating profusely (me, not him), walked Atlas out to the bus while Roman was all wrapped up comfy and cosy on my chest, after which he slept in the wrap for about an hour, which was very cute, if a little taxing on the bod (like I said, still recovering).

See also: the Solly Baby chequered set, above, that I thought would be sooooo cute and is just very Wee Willy Winky.

Zodiac Academy!
I can’t remember where I saw this series recommended — quite possibly some bookstagrammer or other who was detailing their top fantasy smut series — but, after a slow start to book one, I am thoroughly invested in this 12-book (yes, 12) series by sister duo Caroline Peckham and Susanne Valenti. The best part? The entire series is available on Kindle Unlimited.

Bad Things

The whole Roman Polanski aspect :(
I decided on “Roman” as name because of Kieran Culkin’s star turn on Succession (whose character, Roman Roy, is objectively the best character in the entire show). I forgot, somewhere along the line, about Roman Polanski (ugh), and the fact that Polanski directed Rosemary’s Baby. I guess that’s just going to have to become a kind of funny coincidence?! Anyway, unlike Atlas, whose name didn’t really seem to “fit” him until he was a few months old, not that I ever admitted that to anyone, Roman feels very much like a Roman, or, “baby Mo-Me”, as Atlas calls him. Roman, Romy or Rome all feel like acceptable — and fitting — names for him already, so, the Polanski link aside, I have zero regrets.

Baby Mo-Me doesn’t know day from night :(
This is a very normal baby thing — after all, they come out of the womb with no concept of, well, anything, so why would they grasp the idea of day vs night?! — but you kind of forget how hard it makes those first few weeks of life with a newborn when they sleep alllll day and only seem to be alert during night-time hours when, obviously, all you want to do is sleep. I think this didn’t hit quite as hard with Atlas because I napped with him during the day a lot more than I’m doing with Roman, mostly because I keep feeling like napping is a waste when I could be doing laundry, stuffing cloth nappies or tidying the house, a kind of pressure I did not feel the first time around.

I am really, really sick of our crockpot meals
Remember that day I spent eight hours chopping vegetables in order to prep dozens of meals that promised to make life so much easier for us once the baby arrived?! Well, they’re fine but also so boring and I just can’t find it within myself to relish the idea of a meal I’ve already eaten (a dozen times; the portion sizes are big), not to mention how sick I’ve got of rice. Luckily, a friend dropped me over an incredible chicken gnocchi soup (recipe from this book), and several other friends have bought us DoorDash gift cards which have helped keep me in Indian food over this last few weeks.

1. What you’re really looking for is a dietitian. “Dietitian” is a protected term and, as such, only people who have an actual medical degree (in dietetics) can call themselves one. “Nutritionist”, on the other hand? Anyone can say they’re a nutritionist and take your money to give you truly terrible advice. Consider yourselves warned.