This will hurt me...

There are more pros than cons to having a wife who is an absolute champion when it comes to breastfeeding. I'm deadly serious here, Jen would be a lock for Olympic gold if they ever introduce it as a competitive sport. The simply massive Henry was exclusively breast-fed for nigh-on six months (at which point he was the size of the average one year old), and didn't fully wean (his own call) until eighteen months old. In all of that time Jen soldiered through, producing bountiful good stuff to keep him ticking along as healthy as a boy giant could be. That said, he is also a fussy little bugger who demanded his mother's full attention during feeds, had four teeth at sixteen weeks and refused outright any notion of expressed milk in a bottle. So the pressure was very much upon her. The pros should be obvious: health benefits (for both mother and baby); good bonding time; less sickly kiddies; huge cost savings; no fumbling about with formula, bottles and teats; less vomit; l...

Something a little bit different again today. Each Monday I leave work slightly early to relieve Jen of Henry-watching. I do this in order to enable her to attend a ‘pregnastics’ class. Before you get all excited with visions of the heavily pregnant ladies hurtling towards a vault or throwing themselves around to the strains of Elgar during a floor routine, it is less like gymnastics and more like stretching and Pilates. ANYWAY The point that I am trying to get across is the sun. You see, I usually leave work and miss out on the interesting shapes that a low – but not yet setting – sun can generate. However, I was also in a hurry (pregnastics does not wait for art). As a result I rushed off a series of interesting shots involving seagulls, grass, trees and a low, but bright winter’s sun. Of course, haste makes waste and all of that jazz, and none of my beautifully imagined photographs turned out quite the way that I expected (or wanted) them to. Yet, I will admit that one image in par...