Fear and Loathing In Las Chelmsford

When you have a new baby you look at it with awe. You feed baby at crazy hours, you change baby's nappies 900 times a day (just in case the dreaded nappy rash appears). Even if baby looks nothing like you, but proudly resembles the spit of your husband, you hold her close to you like Gold.

Suddenly it is no longer a new baby. She has grown. She has opened her eyes and can smile and watch you and laugh.....

....and the wibbly wobbly head is no more. Although things are still slightly unsteady, even when she is as angry as a croc with Steve Irwin waving madly in front, she still manages a grin and a laugh. In fact, everytime she sees me, she smiles and tries to tell me a tale. She is happy for no other reason other than Mother Nature tells her to be.

And that is why being mother is the most terrifyingly, beautiful thing ever....

.....touch a hair on her head and Jackie Chan would look lame compared to Mama. Wimpy even.

Dribble goo goo names

It is funny how many 'endearing' names you can conjure for your baby.

Ours has been known as Lucy Loo, Mrs Boo, Lulu Piccachu, LuLeeBoo, Little Angel and Cuddlebug (sometimes Cuddleboo).

God forbid she ends up with one of these through life and gets bullied at school. I try to say Lucy at least once a day. She's a clever kid. I worry it is her reference for bottle or I have a pooey arse. But hey, it brings a large smile. Surely your name should bring a smile? Unless it is Rusty. Or Skippy. Or Jim.

The worst thing being a parent brings is (over) protectiveness. We fly to the USA next week. I would rather stick Lucy in an oven of hot coals. But you can't stop living your life.

And anyway I am ridiculously dangerous pushing her pram around. The bumps and ramps I attempt are just plain foolhardy. But one thing pushing Lucy around has taught me - I'll do anything for a bargain.

And so, it seems, would she.