17 days

Our baby is 17 days old. We had previously coined a term, during our barren and bereft years, of 'Smugmum', pronounced "smugm-m", with an unstressed vowel in mum. It was for all the flat white-ordering, off-road pram-weilding, face-beaming mothers who we felt lorded it over the whole world because they had a baby. No, I am not coming to a point that I have become a smugmum. I am completely aware that my pram is annoying in small shops and that not everyone wants to stop and gahhh over my newborn baby in Coles, and give me a free coffee and get the hell out of my way coz my baby is crying. But those thoughts have flitted into my head. So I am putting myself on notice.

Clem is the most beautiful baby of all the babies and he somehow does this with dozens of unsightly milk pimples on his little face. Poor fellah. Actually he looks a bit like a monkey some days and other days he looks like a monk. Specifically one of those monks from Buffy who were minions to the evil God woman, Glory. Sometimes I can see a bigger boy and everything wooshes into the future for a moment and then snaps back.

We love him a lot and are doing an ok job so far, don't think we've inflicted too much damage on him yet. KT is doing it bloody tough with the nipples which are getting attacked and attached every two hours. Sleep is a different thing from what it used to be. But I get it so much easier than her what with not supplying the breasts that I must not even hint at lack of sleep - you will infer this from my typos and poor grammar anyway.

I am an excellent songwriter, turns out. Late at night, when he scwalls and thrashes, I dance with Clem in my arms and sing songs of love and frustration. Clement rhymes with cement, lament and ferment -sort of. I don't remember the rest of those lyrics or the tune but it was pretty rockin. I should record. Smugmum's late night hits and misses.

Oh-oh-oh Clemmy

Did you know your Mummy

Is the baby Whisperer?

Yes she is.

With one touch, you will sleep

Oh so much that not a peep

Will come from you for a while

Then Mumma will wake and smile

And everyone will feel good

You will have some more breast food

Oh- oh-oh Clemmy

Did you know your Mummy... (repeat x 10000, ad lib to pass out)

These are the salad days.