Nappy Changing

One word: Terrifying.

My first nappy-induced panic attack came even before my baby. It was at my baby shower and was a baptism of fire. We were playing a game which involved changing and dressing a doll's nappy against the clock.

If you know me, you'll know I was never really child-friendly. I hated when people came at me with their kids and I had to act all interested and maternal.

I just never knew how to act in the presence of a baby.  Do I talk to it? How do I talk to it? Is there any point? And god forbid you would ask me to hold it. The pressure. I was literally a big bag of awkward.

 Excuse the quality of the photo, from my baby shower. The fear on my face.

My friends and family knew this, so the games at the baby shower were pretty much designed to stress me out (as far as I can see.) I left that day with a million gifts and the hope that they would teach you the very basics at the antenatal classes. They don't.

Things were looking up after Lyla was born, when the mid-wife cleaned her up and dressed her for me. All was well until Jamie was sent home and I was brought back to the ward with the baby. Panic set in.

I rang the bell for the mid-wife who was up to her eyes. When she arrived, I came clean and told her I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and that I probably shouldn't be left in charge of this tiny human. With a knowing smile, she assured me that it'd be grand. I wasn't so sure.

An example of my shoddy nappy work

Lyla slept the whole night (the first and last time for that to happen!) while I hovered nervously, checking to see if she was still breathing every 22 seconds or so. The next morning I watched in panic as the doctors went around to check over the newborns. I just kept thinking I've been rumbled. They will take one look at how I put her nappy on and know I have no idea what I'm doing. They would judge me and think I'm a terrible mother. I mean who can't put a nappy on?

Bizarrely, the didn't voice any such concerns. And after my fifteenth nappy that same day, I had kind of developed a knack.

An example of my seasoned nappy work

I actually began to kind of enjoy it (in most circumstances.) And I especially relished watching the fear etched on Jamie's face when he stepped up to the plate. I felt like a combat veteran watching a new recruit tentatively taking their first steps onto the battlefield. 'You'll be fine Marine. Just remember: 'Know the enemy' and 'Preperation is key'.

I'd have more war medals than I could fit on my chest if that were the case after some almighty poonamis and unexpected guerrilla battles, but I have developed from that raw recruit into someone who is ready for (almost) any challenge and who secretly looks forward to the odd explosion or two.

I've kind of gotten lost in a metaphor, but what I'm trying to say is I no longer fear The Nappy.

Baby Brain

Baby Brain.
I got it, I got it bad.


When you become a parent, something happens to your memory. You can recall, word-for-word, every baby article and book you've read, and every baby fact the Internet throws at you, no matter how relevant or unbelievable. You remember every moment, every development and every poo-nami(!)

And a million funny stories to accompany each memory, like the time your baby ended up in Ikea wearing a scarf as a dress and gloves on her legs. Yeah.

Adding all this new information obviously pushes other stuff though.

For me, that other stuff is everyday, basic stuff. Like the abilities to make a cup of tea, remember names or do grocery shopping. I can often be found standing in a room staring blankly, trying desperately to recall why I was there.

The reason for my memory loss

So I have a kind of system, based on lists, reminders on my phone and the oft-spoken phrase 'remind me to...' My secret weapon is repeating what I have to do under my breath until it is done. So if you ever run into me, and I'm chanting 'Bins...Bins...Bins...' you'll might understand why.


I kind of thought that by now, with Lyla being 10 months old, I'd be back to normal, or is this is the new normal? Do all mams have terrible short-term memories?


The jury is still out on whether baby brain actually exist. I imagine it is actually a by-product of exhaustion, the busyness of parenthood, and the crazy hormones.

Its not the end of the world, but a couple of extra GB of memory wouldn't go amiss.

So to all the people I've called the wrong name, or haven't texted back, or that don't get the same hair colour off me twice in a row, I apologise. Please forgive me, my mind is simply in overdrive trying to decide whether Lyla should have banana or blueberries with her porridge.