Wednesday, 25 January 2012

A day of firsts

The little man and I went to a baby massage session today but I'm not sure how much relaxation he got out of it. We arrived and had a lovely chat with a nice mum that we met on the NCT course. Her baby is so cute and dinky - mine, born two weeks later, is twice the size. It did make me laugh when she said her baby had enormous feet and her face as she glanced at the McBaby's giant trotter.

We lay our babies onto the mats and the course leader asked us to introduce ourselves. What I had forgotten was that my mum had dressed the little man in a pink babygrow while I got his pushchair ready. Even in these days of so-called gender equality, I did look like a fool when I said the name of the baby in pink. She then asked us to undo their babygrows and start massaging their legs with oil. Anything that is vegetable based will do for this.

Despite there being about 20 baby girls and 3 baby boys, it was very peaceful, the same sort of atmosphere you get for a back, neck and shoulders massage. That is until we rubbed oil onto our hands, rubbed them together to warm it up and then showed the baby your hands so they would know that a massage was to follow. Then, with my hands covered in oil, and copying the "Indian milking" manouevre where you rub your hand up and down the baby's leg, MrBaby forced out a poo that sounded like a cannonball being fired. If we had lived nearer to the coast, the lifeboat would have set out for sea.

Everyone looked at me. I pretended it wasn't my baby but then he started crying. And not the gentle little yelps that small babies do, but a breathless scream, accompanied by his face turning purple.

"I'll change him" I whispered, wiping my oily hands down myself. I crept to the back of the room whereupon someone from the other side of the room shouted to me to let me know where the changing room was. I then had to get my changing bag which was under another mum's bottom and carry a screaming child past lots of relaxed babies to the changing room. I changed him, he continued to scream and I fed him when I returned. This was the first time I'd done so in public; I am quite shy and discreet. Unlike my son, it would seem.

He eventually finished feeding, I burped him and did his babygrow back up. I then realised, of course, that I needn't had done his legs back up. I undid them again and put him on the mat to continue his massage. I put oil on my hands, warmed them up and did the "Swedish milking" move that everyone was doing. As I made contact with his leg, the course leader thanked everyone for coming and proclaimed it to be the end of the session.

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