The good thing about having man-boobs is that I can comfort a breastfed baby...


I'm the low-calorie version of Lisa. Though I think my pyjamas could do with a wash.

Anyhoo, we had two appointments today. The first was an early morning visit from a breastfeeding counsellor. To be honest I slept through that one. But let's face it, I know everything there is to know about eating, so I doubt I'd have learnt anything new. The counsellor did pass on a few babycare tips though. Apparently when Amelie goes to bed, it's a good idea to leave her with something which reminds her of Mum. So I'm going to put a packet of crisps in her cot.

As for this afternoon, we left Amelie in the capable hands of her Grandma, and headed off to the town hall to register the birth. It didn't go quite according to plan when Amelie decided she needed a feed five minutes before we were due to leave, but with a bus stop conveniently situated outside my flat, and a bus which arrived within two minutes of us getting there, we were still in with a fighting chance of arriving on time. Or we would have been, had the bus driver not inexplicably gone sailing past the main stop in the centre of town, and refused to let us off until we were halfway to Hove.

But still, nothing shifts those post-baby pounds like a frantic five minute run through the centre of Brighton. And despite being late, they still agreed to give us a birth certificate. So as of three-thirty this afternoon, Amelie Gardner officially exists. There's no changing our minds now.