01.29 – 02.04
Sun Feb 04 2024 00:00:00 GMT+0000 (Coordinated Universal Time)
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01.29 – 02.04

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We have kept baby girl alive for a year. Bae’s parents and cousins came to visit to help us celebrate. Bae baked an(other) insanely good cake and baby girl got piled in. We got her a cute little wooden walker but she obviously couldn’t give two shits about it.

Chocolate and fig birthday cake with a number 1 candle, a toy tractor, and a Lego minifig in a pool of not-quite-set chocolate icing Chocolate and fig birthday cake with a number 1 candle, a toy tractor, and a Lego minifig in a pool of not-quite-set chocolate icing
Chocolate. Fig. Minifig.

Baby girl had three settles at nursery at the beginning of the week. In my head she wasn’t going to start proper until tomorrow (when I go back to work, ooft) and I was not emotionally prepared for the realisation that she was in fact starting on Thursday (February 1st). I spent the day tidying up and intermittently having mild panic attacks (shit shit shit where’s the baby!?).

We had our architect over to do a survey. It felt good to get even the slightest hint of movement on the project (he measured some stuff and I pulled up a bit of the staircase). Looking forward to seeing his concept drawings in a few weeks.

Took little man and his pal to see a ‘musical telling of The Gruffalo’ at the library on Saturday. It was about as budget as I’d envisaged but the kids seemed happy enough.

Got a skipping rope. Turns out I am legit rubbish at skipping. In my head I was going to look like an (admittedly weedy) effortless boxer – after all, I thought, it’s a piece of piss doing it without the rope. That’s not going to be happening any time soon, though. My main concern now is where to practice without feeling like a total knob – didn’t have that on my trials-and-tribulations-of-high-density-living bingo card.

The little man has been a massive prick all week and (almost certainly related) has had more accidents than successful trips to the potty. I know that me getting angry about it is only likely to make things worse but I’m rapidly running out of other emotions. He’s definitely not trying to shit himself, but he still manages to make it feel pretty personal. I think we’d have to call it a regression, but that feels slightly unfair given how little progress he’s made in the six months since we started down this road. When I manage to stop feeling angry with him I feel sad for him because he’s obviously bottling something, but we can’t figure out what it is or why. Perhaps he’s embarrassed that his dad’s taken up skipping.


  • Ted Lasso – we’re late (as usual) to this party


  • Lidl coffee beans are a false economy
  • Plus ça change is short for plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose (which is blindingly obvious now I know it, obviously)


All felt pretty sluggish and not particularly enjoyable. Maybe nursing a low-level bug. Or tired. Or both.