Regarding the title of this entry please youtube ‘American Pie’… You’re welcome! There’s nothing too dramatic to report in your development wee man. We had our first external scan with you last week – to be honest it looked just the same as the internal one before that. The doc was scraping over Mum’s belly to try and get a butchers at your organs to give them the once over. 18 weeks is a little early and it’s normally done at 20 weeks and it seems a lot of development occurs in just 2 weeks. Apparently you need to fatten up a little (not some creepy reference to Hansel & Gretel) as the scanning technology responds better and more accurately with some body fat. Eat up kid! You’re growing well… strong and long legs by the looks and we even got a peek at your willy. There’s something rather satisfying in receiving further confirmation that you are a boy… like DNA wasn’t enough. Yep, I can be a dickhead sometimes. So, there’s Sweet Fuck All going on with you but… over to us.
Mum and I have a lot going on right now. We’re pretty much committed to getting a business going selling ‘nursing rocking chairs’ with all the added extras like ottomans, blankets, pillows etc. I’m also trying to find suppliers in China for ‘Time Out’ stools that have a built in 3 minute timer for when kids are little shits and don’t listen to their parents. I’m sure you’ll get some time on yours… I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try and push the boundaries at least a little. We’ll be encouraging you to push all the boundaries you can as you grow up but we’ll also show you how to be clever about it. Otherwise you just end up receiving exactly what you don’t want and end up looking like a bit of an arse-hat.
We move to what will be your first ever home on Saturday – the day after tomorrow. Welcome to stress town… population me. Fuck it! Just to move out of Jumeirah Village Triangle and in to Arabian Ranches (about 5km down the road) we have driven all over bloody town – about 23 times to collect paperwork, signatures, stamps, pay deposits, have one deal fall through to then agree terms with a new place across the same road. (Some wank puffin property owner that probably got an extra tenner a month – I hope his tenants make a mess of the place and stain the kitchen cabinets with curry powder. That smell never comes out!)
Our front room currently looks like the inside of a shipping container… a shipping container that has fallen off a truck, a truck taking a hairpin turn going 110kph, rolled down a cliff flipping 48 times and smashed in to another shipping container… I can’t stand the mess and clutter. Did I mention your Dad has a touch of OCD about him? Sorry in advance for that – it pisses your Mum off sometimes too. In any case it’s all about to sort itself out over the next few days.
Your first gaff is much bigger… a 3 bedroom + maids room. Now then, it’s quite common in Dubai to have help. Generally speaking that comes in the form of either a live-in or live-out nanny. Your Mum and I have always been of the opinion we would like live-out help. Turns out that’s what most of our friends with children thought as well… they all have live-in nannies. Our mates Gemma and Barney and your soon to be mate Bea – their gorgeous daughter, dropped that little nugget of information on us last week… let’s see.
I’ve really got to get my fat arse in the gym. I’m sure there are going to be plenty of photos taken on the big day and I must do something about these man boobs and spare tire around my gut. These photos will last forever and this dad-bod before I’m a dad has to go… fuck that.
Jack James McEwen. There, that’s what we’ve decided to call you, you little rascal. Looking at it now it’s the first time I’ve seen it written down and it’s an odd thing to look at in ‘print’ for the first time. But it looks strong, it looks good, it looks like you – my son. By the way, if your Mum starts calling you ‘JJ’ I’m going to change your name to Maximus Decimus Meridius and call you ‘Gladiator’ for short. Her proclivity for shortening names drives me mental. Well that’s the latest, decided just yesterday in fact so I have missed the last 3-4 weeks… the silly season… and before that the big move to your first home.
Let’s start there… the move. As you’ll come to know in the transient world we now live in moving house is a fucking ball ache wherever you live. It is however a little less stressful here in Dubai where AED 1,500 will get you a miniature army of workers from the sub-continent to pack away, wrap up, disassemble, box up, transport, unwrap, unpack, reassemble and bugger off. Yes, I am aware… I sound like a whiney expat twat. Apologies. I still hate it. There’s still work to do and shit to buy as a 1 bed townhouse does not go in to a 3 bed without leaving a few gaps. It’ll all come together over the next month or 2 so no need to stress.
A week after all this we were back in England to celebrate your Grandad’s 70th birthday on Christmas Eve and spend Christmas with you Uncle, Aunty, cousins and Nana. Good times had by all. Cold as fucking brass balls out there in East Anglia but good times. Ate my body weight in turkey, roasties, stuffing, chipolatas, bacon and pork pies – working on this ‘Dad bod’ look. Fuck that! I’m in the gym kid and training my fat arse off. I’ve gotta be in good shape before you’re born so I’ll look half way fit in all them birth photos. Photos last a lifetime on the internet little man! I’ve even given up beer in January to speed up the process. I’ve always been one for setting realistic goals and ‘dry January’ can piss right off.
It wasn’t a big drinking holiday (more eating!) as Mum’s got you cooking and her family aren’t really drinkers. Well, not like my side of the family anyway. However, I did get rat arse drunk on New Year’s Eve back here in Dubai after tucking away more than a few glasses of fine red wine with some perfectly prepared ribeye… that’s right – at home. You’d be so proud or disgusted. Whatever, I had fun with just me and your Mum. First NYE in the house since I was a teenager I reckon and if I’m honest I really enjoyed it. BTW, the laser show on the Burj Khalifa was total rubbish if you were anywhere but right in front. If you weren’t front and centre you might as well have been on the dark side of the bloody moon! Obviously we weren’t there but we have clear line of sight to the Burj from the roof… nothing… bollox.
By the way, according to the App of all pregnancy knowledge you’re about as big as a corn on the Cobb – week 22. It could be one of them little organic jobs or a GMO beast fit for ‘feeding the 5,000’ – they’re not very specific when it comes to these fruit and veg comparisons (probably the former)… the dramatic change in size is due to the fact we now measure you from head to toe instead of head to coccyx… I think. I’m pretty sure though.
We’re off to Dr. Anni on Friday so will have an update for you then. This is pretty much the check where she has a good butchers hook at your organs as they’ve now got enough fat around them for an accurate assessment. You will be duly informed xxx