The following letter jumps around quite a bit as it’s taken a couple of months for me to get round to putting this together in full, for that I apologise…

2 months. It’s currently the Saturday the 27th of February 2009 (I’ll pre-date this entry just to confuse me). I’m on a flight back from Mumbai to LHR T5. Someone’s just put some garlic prawns down in front of me so I’d better eat them… they were ok. I haven’t seen you since the 10th of Feb so that’s another 17 days, what will be 20 days of my life wasted not enjoying my babies. Being away fromthe three of you isn’t good. But being in India again has been yet another reminder that I need to create an opportunity for us all to move abroad. Not that I needed a reminder, but it has to happen. Living in Bow is good, we love our home there but can’t see ourselves living there forevermore. 2 bedrooms is fine for the time being but we will need something bigger; something with proper outdoor space; something in a warm climate; something in a different country; something in a place where (pardon my snobbishness and I knew this would be the case when we moved in) where we’re not surrounded by rifraf.

Mummah posted a bunch of photos of you recently on Facebook (am going to take an intrepid guess that that will still be around in some form by the time you can actually read this). You’ve fattened up a chunk, started smiling a lot and are looking like an extremely cute little munchkin. Really can’t wait to get hold of you this coming Tuesday. We haven’t seen enough of each other so far by far.

Right now you’re in South Africa, at your grandparents place in Plettenberg Bay. The same place where Frankie was at the same age, 2 years ago. How’s it meeting Granny Caroline and Grandpa? I get the impression from Ma that they’re loving you.

For The Record

• You’re pretty much the perfect baby. You’ll cry only if you’re hungry or your nappy needs changing. Keep that up.
• You’ve still got a cross-shaped fontinel. I hope Frankie’s taking care when she’s around you. Sometimes we have to restrain her from squashing it/you with her foolish displays of affection for you.
• Carry on from you having contorted arms, you’ve taken to flailing them around sporadically. Bit weird.
• You’ve found your feet, literally, when left alone for a short while if you’re not studying your hands, you’ll grab both your feet and play with them instead.

Right, Alex, it is now Wednesday the 21st of April. I have other draft notes to you backed up too. When I first started writing to your sister, I foolishly didn’t quite gather that I wouldn’t have the same amount of hands of my time as I did when I wasn’t a father. So, and maybe this’ll change again but I’m going to have to revise how often I write. I think that after this one, I’m going to combine you and your sister’s letters. There’s just never enough time. Hope you don’t mind, hope if anything it has more of a bonding effect between you two. Not that you’ll need that. Maybe the frequency will change again but I’ll certainly keep taking as many pictures of you as I can, which you’ll then inherit one day. Whoopee-do I hear you cry. Well you’re children will love them even if you don’t.

I’m in Durban now and you’re back home in east Londinium. I’ve more than outstayed my time here. Was ready to come home towards the end of last week when I caught the news that a volcano in Iceland had shut done all UK airspace. Mummy thought I was taking the piss but it’s true. Virgin Atlantic have rescheduled my flight for the 4th May, that’s 2 weeks away. That’s ridiculous. Am getting a tad bored out here and have decided that Durban is not the best place in the world. There’s not a great deal to do but I did fit in some skydiving inland from Durban, near a place called Eston. Had not jumped for over 18 months so needed recurrency training and a check jump but managed to get 7 jumps in one day. Best day’s jumping I’ve ever had. Now I’m just itching to jump out of a plane with Mummy. How much fun is that going to be? Lots. And then as soon as you’re old enough, obviously you’ll be joining us. No? How cool would that be? The 4 of us flying through the air together. Nuts.

Loving and missing you,

Daddy X

Lightning. In the same place twice.

Hello my girl, look at you, what an angel, what a thing for us to have gone and done, again.

I try to write down some things about what’s going on in your life, for documentary purposes, so in years to come you’ll know what was going on in your life, especially these early days whilst you’re clueless. I’ll try to write monthly during your first year and quarterly thereafter. And I want you to have a hint of a smattering of an inkling of an idea about what and how much you mean to us.

You were due to arrive on the 10th, I was thinking the 8th (my birthday) would be nice, but if it wasn’t then or the 10th then when? So when you landed on December 18th though, it was obvious: I met Mummy in a pub near the Barbican after meeting five days earlier online (no I’m not joking) on an 18th; your sister was born on an 18th. And, if you don’t include my big toes, I’ve got 18 digits.

Kate felt something was afoot the evening before so cousin Don and Helene came round for a game of pictionary. We’ve kept the badger that Don drew that night. It doesn’t look like a badger. At all. Then a couple of hours of nothing happening with you, they went back to their place just a little further down the Roman Road and we went to bed. A couple of hours later and you’d grown enough for your amniotic sack no longer to be able to contain you. Mummy’s waters were breaking all over the shop, I was grabbing the camera (well I’ve never seen broken waters before), Helene came back to look after sister, we got our shit together and headed down the road to the Royal London Hospital, Whitechapel. Only at 1am, in their wisdom, it was locked, because people only need hospitals 9-5. Teetering around the building on the icy ground, we found our way in via the side door, went up to the labour ward, some nurse who looked like we’d woken her pointed us in the wrong direction but eventually we were in the correct room, the room you were born in. Walking along the corridor to get to your room, we passed the screams of the house of horrors and a few hours later Kate was joining in, exactly the same. You’d dumped a load of meconium inside Mummy so there wasn’t going to be any hanging about like we did last time with Frankie (and this also meant we were less inclined to keep the placenta as we did last time). The contractions starting getting worse and scheiße mein alter schtiefels, it was a hard thing to watch the pain that Mummy went through. There was no time for any pain relief other than ‘gas and air’, no time for that planned epidural. “I can’t do this” I remember Mummy saying. 5 hours after arriving at the hospital, at 06h18, you came through. 7lbs 10oz. Bloody nora, birth is an emotional thing.

The Naming of #2
What a bloody farce that became. We must have had a hundred conversations with friends and family over your gestation period that went something along these lines:

Them: “You got a name for her yet?”
Me: “Nope. Got any bright ideas?”
Them: “Amelia?”
Kate: “Grow up.”
Them: “Sophie?”
Me: “I like Sophie but it’s a little too princessy maybe.”

or

Me: “Any suggestions as to what we might name our daughter?”
Them: “erm”
Us: “no, neither have we.”

You get the idea. At some point over the 9 months the following were shortlisted, but none cutting the mustard as Alex has: Layla, Sam, Sami, Ana, Sophie, Sophia, Bow, Cat, Ali, Charlie, Beth, Izzy, Scarlett et al.

Don suggested the name Alex, whilst we were sat around the table playing our board game and twas agreed there and then that that was your name. The morning you were born I checked with Mummy that we were going with Alex and so it was. A day or so later the name Sami came up again and we were back to square one, still at a loss as to what your name was. There was also a bit of pressure on us deciding as we needed to register you in order to get your passport applied for in time for your upcoming first flight to South Africa. So on the 29th December we registered you at Bow Registry Office in the name of Sami Alex Lowry Spratt. A week later we went back to the office and reregistered you, this time lopping of the Sami, which I just couldn’t dig.

And don’t start me on the – “Alex” “Oh, Alexandra?” “N’no, Alex.” What is it with people.

For the record

• Your body can seem a little uptight, like you’re still that foetus, all balled up. Your hands won’t uncurl, I don’t know what’s going on there.
• You’re nocturnal, mostly sleeping during the day only to be up for attention at night. You real funny.

I must warn you – you’ve got this sister. Her name is Frankie and she is a complete fruitcake. She’s been very excited, waiting for you to “come out of Mummy’s tummy”. She currently calls you baby and the pair of you are extremely cute together although right now she can be rather boisterous but she is all good. You guys are going to have so much fun together.

Twelve hours after being born, home

If I had my way (if we had the money), we as a family would spend the rest of our lives travelling the world. Currently though, my job is taking me away a lot and this is far from ideal, leaving you guys behind. I left for Jordan on the 9th January and am due to be there for 3+ weeks, then you guys are off to SA soon after I get back, in time for your Uncle Edd’s wedding, I’m off to Mumbai first then I’ll see you out there. So these first few months we’re not going to see a great deal of each other. I know this isn’t cool, I hope you understand.

Don’t go changing,

Daddy X

So that was a year in the life of Frankie Spratt then. So much fun. We’ve loved every single second getting to know you so far. At this stage I’m very much a believer that nature far outweighs nurture with your character. You started off being cool as a cuke, now you’re even cooler and so happy and easy going. Apart from those little spaz-attacks you’re prone to have in the middle of the night. Or when something gets taken away from you. Or when you don’t want to sit in your pushchair. Other than those, you’re cooler than Elvis.

Birthday morning

For the record

• Sat 27th September could be deemed as the date of your first word. The day we moved into Maidenhead you pointed at a picture of a duck and said “Duck”. You then spoiled it by pointing to picture of a frog and saying…”Duck”. Muppetry. Since then though you’ve continued speaking gobbledeegook (racist).
• Since moving into Maidenhead, we took the opportunity to make the move to real cow’s milk and mostly you’re eating real food, with those jars now really only being used as a back up.
• On 14th October I’ve been reliably informed you took 2 steps. Please try and wait until I get home for monumental things like that in future. The day after though I saw you take 5 paces myself, so you’re currently known as Frankie Five Steps.
• You’re now in the more than capable hands of Wendy during the daytime. You seem very happy with her and the other children she looks after.
• Stats: Remember this Frankie: No matter what they tell you, you are not in any way a project.

Phot

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Exactly a year before you were born, i.e. the 18th October 2006, the day that Mummy and I met for our ‘first date’, I took her to see an ex-colleague play in the Kensington Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican. Yes I know, suave move. She then took me for a romantic dinner for two. At McDonald’s. No shame. Still, it clearly worked a treat on me and now there’s a two year tradition already installed that we go to McDonald’s on the 18th October. Last year we went to the one on Tottenham Court Road/ Oxford St whilst killing time waiting for you to pack your gestation bags and come join us. Did I mention it took your 4 days from Mummy’s waters breaking until you turned up? In your own good time my girl. So for your first birthday Emmah, Neil, Bonnie, Don, Helene, Emma, Ed, Paul, Treena, Mick, Amber and us lot piled into the McDonald’s Maidenhead. Getting Auntie Em in there is kudos indeed as she hadn’t entered a McDonalds in over 15 years.

Cousins at your 1st Birthday Party, McDonald's Maidenhead

And that’s a year’s worth these monthly letters. I’m gonna spread them out now and write quarterly. I will however take phot forever more and keep posting monthly pictures. I plan to keep videoing and post more of that up too. I’ll keep documenting as much as I can and I’ll keep publicising and promoting your loveliness, making sure as many people as possible are graced with your images and get to know more about the angel that you are.

Roll on year two.

Love,

Daddy x

I know, I know, late again, but…

Daddy got a new job. This does mean that I’ll be away for weeks on end though which quite frankly “quite Frankie”, is not so cool. I would love to put you in my hand luggage with your head poking out the top and take you away with me to these places, but alas – I am not looking forward to leaving you behind one jot.

Stats
Height: 76.5cms
Weight: 10.1kg – avid readers will notice a dent that this month’s stats have put in your growth graph. You actually lost 0.4kg this month. Careless. More food heading around your chops than in them?

Snippets

The injuries continue – scratches on the back, bruise on the cheek, cut on the finger, grazes on the foot. Keep it together girl!

We’ve both noticed that when we’re holding you, walking or just standing, you seem to adopt this additional chunk of confidence, even an air of authority about you. You’re confident as it is, but there’s a recognisable extra bit of ‘king of the castle’ about you when you’re being held and surveying all around you.

Ed and Amber got engaged. Woohoo, well done them. Wrong order of doing these things surely but hey-ho, each to their own.

A great game you’ve come up with is to sit precariously on the step that leads outside to the terrace, and then throw your body on to the bean bag next to you. You’ll land then look around for Mummy or me to enjoy the moment with. We’ll smile and clap, encouraging any type of derring-do and tomfoolery. This needs to develop into a desire to skydive.

Month 11 Phot

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Sounds

The most common sound you make is a bit weird. It sounds something like an impression of a coffee percolator from that TV advert a la 1987, only as a one or two second burst and it’s normally accompanied by the pointing finger(s). Do explain this to us one day.

My favourite vocal that you perform goes something like: “ahuahahuah”. This could well be a result of spending your first year in east London as it’s fairly siren-like. For entertainment value, I’ll go “ahuahahuah” to which you’ll reply “ahuahahuah”, then you look at me, I clap and you casually return to whatever it is I disturbed you from doing. In a similar way, sometimes when you snuggling down in a semi-comatose state, you’ll go “mmmm”, I’ll reply “mmmm”, you’ll reply “mmmm” etc. This can go on for about 20 replies back and forth. You will always be the one to finish it though.

You’ve also taken to saying “ahhh” at the same time as flapping your tongue back and forth, giving that rather infantile “blah blah blah” sound. I mostly try and grab your tongue as you do it.

Movements

There’s this thing you do which Nana first noticed when holding you and counting out your formula milk scoops. I’ll go “1,2,3,4,5…” and roughly by the time I get to 6, you’ve cocked your head round as much as possible so that you’re looking me, about four inches away from my face. It’s hilarious. So now we come up with various things that happen to need counting in order for you to perform this trick again for us. Yes, you are our toy.

You know what “No” means but very independently choose when to actually pay attention to its meaning. You’ll normally acknowledge our saying “No” with a vigorous head shaking action, then mostly carry on as you were. Still working on the nodding “Yes”.

It’s now become quite a regular gig of yours to wake briefly in the wee small hours. I’ll come and grab you, inhale a lungful or two of your sleepiness and bring you into bed with us. You’ll quickly and very easily return to the strangest version of slumber I’ve seen: It’s sleep, only you feel the need to align your body horizontally on the bed pushing us to each edge. Whoever is the lucky recipient of the feet (the FTSE 100s) will for a short while be repeatedly pushed against and if lucky, kick off one of your minor body convulsing tantrums. Quite often Mummy and I will look at each other in what little light there is and again try to stifle our laughing AT YOU. Crikey me, even when you’re being an arse you’re cute.

We’re about to move out of our first home and over to Maidenhead, we’re not particularly looking forward to leaving our home but it’s an opportunity we’d be silly not to take up. Granny and Grandpa will soon be heading south to their African winter retreat and the flat in Bow is being let out. All change please, all change.

Loving you,

Daddy x

You are the loon. You are the complete nut job. You have become not only the mover but you are also the shaker. You are one mental asylum seeking little lady. The other night we continued our new game of you violently shoving ‘little ducky’ in my mouth, I close my mouth for a while trying to hide him behind my tongue, you double check that you definitely put it in there by looking around where we’re sitting before spotting it again gripped between my teeth, then dive straight in mouth first to extract it from me. Then the game starts over again.

Stats
Teeth #: 7
Height: 76cms
Weight: 10.5kg – I’ve just compared you to this chart (btw, I don’t normally hang around lactationconnection.com, honest) and you’re on the very upper guide line for both height and weight. This obviously means you’re better than all of the other 10 month olds. VG, A+, keep this up.

Nicknames
Frankielicious, Prankster, Prookle, Monkeyheadery, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie (yep, 5x Frankie)

Nappy changing has become a bit of a joke recently as you simply will not keep still. Picture yourself, stripped naked, chubby little leggies, bottom and nethers on display, if both of my hands are occupied for more than 2 seconds you will roll over and you’re off, making a bid for freedom once again, THE BOTTOM a-wriggling away into the near distance until I grab your ankles and pull you back on to the new nappy. You will then create for a short while whilst I fasten the nappy up and then you’re off to the next nearest object that you might find entertaining, normally the wipe box. Do you really have to make such a simple task so difficult?

Month 10 Phot

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We’ve had quite a bit of traffic through the flat throughout your 10th month, Nana, Pops, Roques but now we’re back to just the 3 of us, although Mummy keeps going on about creating a sibling for you. What you reckon monkeyhead? Oh go on then.

I have no idea how we started to do this but I’m guessing about a good 20% of the time we spend talking to you (in-house, obviously) occurs in a questionably melodic way. Yep, we sing our sentences to you. Full on if-we-knew-anyone-else-was-watching-we’d-stop-in-our-tracks type singing. I think ‘Hallelujah’ is a common tune we use (for dramatic effect) e.g. “Frankielicious, Frankielicous, Frankielicious our daughterrrrrrrrr, Oh you’re so lovely, you’re so lovely, you’re so lovely, yes you arrrrrrrrrrrre.” !

Snippets

You’re looking more like a beautiful little girl than a generic baby and it’s quite a change to observe. To be honest, when you (babies, collectively) start out, there really is no definite differentiation between the looks of the baby boys and baby girls. But now, with your growing locks, your sapphire eyes and long eyelashes you are absolutely a girl, the girl, our girl. You go girl.

Love,

Daddy x

Babies are brilliant, (almost) everyone should get one (or so).

Last month I wrote how because you’re now such a mover and a groover, we should no longer take our eyes off you, if we were for example to leave you lying on the bed for a moment. Earlier this month I took my eyes off you for about 2 seconds and THUD. Oh bollocks, damaged baby. Head first. Let the 2nd June 2008 be known as the day that Daddy inadvertently dropped you on your head. My monumentally bad for giving you even more brain damage than you had already inhereted.

I am in your computer

Stats
Height: 68cms
Weight: 9.4kgs

Further damage took place when you leaned forward in the bath the other night to investigate the plug twisting device. When I say investigate, I mean jam your fingers in behind it, subsequently cutting your finger on the way out. You whailed in pain. And this, I should point out to any expectant or recent parent, is a new feeling that one gets and I had never experienced before you came along - the heartfelt feeling that when you’re in pain, I would do anything to take that pain away from you. It’s a new one on me and I know you’ll take your knocks and illnesses and this is something that everyone needs to go through but it’s still horrible to look on knowing there’s little I can do to help.

Photos

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Snippets

• Remote controls and mobile phones are your current obsession, in fact have been for a couple of months. Kid needs entertaining, chuck her the remote. Kid should maybe pipe down a little, shove the Blackberry in front of her. Buttons. Handheld devices. Wow. Although this often means that we don’t get to watch or hear what we were planning to on the television.
• The main reason you’re given a bath is to remove the neck and pit cheese that gathers between your folds of puppy fat. It is a delight.
• You have a hairy back. Yep, I said a hairy back. You’re a cute little baby girl. Who has a hairy back. Mummy mentioned this laughingly (nervously) to the doctor recently, the doctor said that most children are born with a little downy hair and it soon goes away. Your back hair however is increasing and spreading and strengthening and we are marginally worried. At least one day we’ll be able to make some money off you though.
• Your head hair however is now long enough that it gets into your eyes, but we really don’t want it lopped off yet, so Ma sometimes puts a sweat-type-alice-band around your bonce which I think makes you look like a Scandinavian tourist.

Photo courtesy of: Ed Campbell; babygrow: courtesy of my old team at the MoD; eyes: courtesy of your beautiful Mummy

We’ve always been proud (relieved?) of how you’re not a cry baby. But this weekend just gone, your Aunties Edd and Amber looked after you whilst we went down to Sussex overnight for Matt and Bry’s wedding. The report back from them is that you were inconsolable for about 4 hours after we left and nothing would appease your crying. This is highly embarrassing for Mummy and Daddy and must stop forthwith. We’ve another wedding coming up next weekend and you’ll be staying with your grandparents Bretherton overnight. It would be nice if we heard only good things about you from them when we come to pick you up. There’s a dear.

Nana and Pops will both be over from New Zealand and Belgium respectively at the end of next week in time for your cousin’s arrival (this is very very exciting by the way) next month. I’m looking forward to them spending some good time with you and the family getting together as a whole. This is another thing I have realised as a new parent: the greater family don’t spend enough time together as a family and I would like us to more. We’ve very often been geographically all over the shop so it hasn’t always been easy but I will do what I can to try and get us all together all the more often. In small doses of course, BECAUSE OTHERWISE WE WOULD ALL GO NUTS.

Love,

Daddy x