Super Spurs Sperm

A little hand waves to the crowd. 

I've managed to double my workload this summer after getting too amorous with Mrs. Hawkins when celebrating Tottenham Hotspur's 3-1 victory over Queen's Park Rangers back in October. (Yes, I really have worked out when our next baby was conceived.)

To use a football cliché: we're "over the moon", although it must be said that Deborah would have preferred to have waited until Joe-Joe was one year old before trying for our second baby. My   Super Spurs sperm though had other ideas and triumphantly reached their destination to claim an unexpected victory.

Our visit to the hospital last week confirmed that Joe-Joe's brother or sister is due to arrive on August 4 - the week before the start of the 2012/13 football season. Hopefully by then the Spurs players will be wearing a gold badge on their arm as the newly crowned Premier League champions!

Joe-Joe wasn't too happy with the pregnancy test result

Barefootin'

Today I decided to capture Joe-Joe's hatred of socks on camera. He absolutely detests wearing them and at every available opportunity will pull them from his feet (usually with his teeth) and go barefootin' . As a result, his sock drawer is a mix-match of odd ones. Yesterday, when cleaning out the car I found five socks, all of them different, on the back seat. And this afternoon, he returned from a stroll strapped to me in his baby carrier with one foot blue with cold after kicking his sock off during the walk.

Take a look at this funny video as Joe-Joe attempts to do a 'Sandie Shaw'.

Joe-Joe's Christmas Gruffalo

1. Joe-Joe's first Christmas was spent in Essex at Auntie Nina and Uncle Mark's house. It's O.K., we told Santa our son wouldn't be at home in Bournemouth and arranged for his presents to be dropped down their chimney instead.

It was my first Christmas with the Baileys since 2006 as in recent years we've spent the festive period being waited on hand and foot at my wife's parents in Sturminster Newton, Dorset. However, this year I fancied a change and so invited myself and my family to spend it with my sister, her husband and their two children. Luckily, they were only too happy for Joe-Joe's massive travelling wardrobe to be dumped on them for three nights. My mother Jean also joined us for turkey and all the trimmings and just like previous years we sat back, drank wine and enjoyed watching someone else slave over a hot stove to prepare our biggest meal of the year.

Joe looks amazed at Nannie Jean's Crimbo delivery

Nannie Jean provided the entertainment on Christmas Eve when she rocked up with three large bags full to the brim with presents for her three grandchildren. Harrison, 9, Mariella, 3, and Joe screamed with delight as they unwrapped one treat after another from what seemed like a Penn and Teller magic bag that just kept giving. After Harrison had pulled what seemed like his twentieth bar of chocolate from it, I told him how lucky he was as when I was his age my Christmas pillow case contained one orange, two walnuts, a few chocolate coins and school uniform!

You can't eat the bowl, try the Milkybar buttons!

• My wife and I had hummed and hawed over what to put in Joe-Joe's first begging letter to Father Christmas. Deborah wanted to compile a wish list of items from Baby Gap, but in the end we decided on an ugly cuddly toy after spotting one on a shelf in the children's section of the Waterstone's book store. Joe-Joe's favourite bedtime story is Julia Donaldson's 'The Gruffalo', a tale about a mouse's walk in the woods. The Gruffalo toy with its terrible tusks, terrible claws and terrible teeth in terrible jaws cost £25 in Waterstone's, but I helpfully informed Santa's elves that one could be purchased on the Amazon web site for £12. It duly arrived on Christmas morning and as you can see from the photo, Joe-Joe was terribly pleased to have received it.

First present from Mummy and Daddy - a Gruffalo

Joe-Joe in jumper knitted by Nannie Jean

DADDY DAYCARE - Open for business

Deborah returned to work last Friday after six months on maternity leave and I officially took up my post as a full-time stay-at-home Dad. I'd been dreading my first day in the job, as my wife had decided that my first morning would be spent at Minky Moos - a musical sensory experience for newborns at my local children's centre.

During her time on maternity leave Deborah took Joe-Joe to practically every mother and baby group in Bournemouth. It's been good for her, and my son, as they've made lots of new friends. It's been good for me too, as I've managed to spend many quiet hours picking my fantasy football dream team on the PremierLeague.com website. I'm sure my wife would have preferred it if I'd accompanied her to a few of these daytime activities, or at least have kept my negative thoughts about them to myself. After much persuasion, I did attend 'Wriggle and Rhyme' at our local library a few Saturdays ago. I felt like a right fool mumbling along to long-forgotten nursery rhymes with one other mother and the librarian as bemused patrons looked on instead of silently flicking through books. 

I was one of the first parents to arrive at Minky Moos and nervously took up a spot with Joe-Joe at the side of the hall - a position I'm sure he'd never occupied before as Deborah always likes to be in the thick of the action. I kept my head down and played with my son as the hall filled up. After five minutes I looked up and saw that I was now on the edge of a very large circle of 25 other Mums and their babies. To my horror, I also realised that my child was not wearing a Christmas-themed outfit. At six-months-old, even Joe-Joe looked embarrassed to be the only one donning a T shirt and jeans and surrounded by well-dressed Baby Santas, elves, reindeer and snowmen. To make matters worse, I'd also given him odd socks! 

I tried my best to ignore the many stares aimed our way and grabbed Joe-Joe some sleigh bells to shake to the Christmas tunes belting out of pink tracksuited Penny's glitter ball stereo. Thankfully, the mums sitting next to me took pity and tried to make me feel at home, although my wife had failed to warn me that they'd whip out a boob to feed their baby halfway through the ordeal. I didn't know where to look and settled on counting the number of tiles on the floor. There were 106.

After about half a dozen Christmas songs and an interesting coloured light show, Penny's 'special guest' arrived. It was of course Father Christmas, except this one had a big fat comical head. A scrum of 25 mums quickly formed and they politely jostled each other in order that their darling daughter or son had their picture taken with Santa. Every baby there got a photo - every one except mine. Poor Joe-Joe. His Daddy hasn't got a mobile phone with a camera - at least, not yet, although I'm pleased to say that my wife has sanctioned the purchase of one. I wonder if she'll mind if I buy that rather expensive new iPhone?

Cardboard Christmas

Times are definitely hard in the Hawkins household this Christmas. Deborah has been on maternity leave since June and I'm working just two days a week at Halfords in Poole. It's back-breaking work for peanuts and this 41-year-old has managed to put his back out a couple of times moving heavy bicycles around the racking in the store's warehouse.

I returned from work on Monday though with a spring in my step and a six foot high cardboard cut-out Christmas tree spread across the back seat. It looked good on display in the store and I figured it would look just as good in the spot reserved in our hallway for our festive pine.

I excitedly pulled it out of my Renault Megane  (I'd folded it in two to get into the car) and hurriedly rushed through the front door shouting out to my wife: "Quick! Come and have a look at the six foot tree that I got for FREE!" She rushed out of the kitchen with Joe-Joe in her arms and almost dropped him on seeing my festive effort at penny pinching. "That's crap! I want it out of our hallway and replaced with a real tree by tomorrow morning!"

My free tree stayed one extra day as I don't like to do exactly what my wife says. It now resides outside in our big cardboard recycle bin and today I replaced it with a five foot real tree which cost £20. Before I leave for work tomorrow morning, I'll remind her indoors that I'll have to work three and a half hours at Halfords to pay for it.

Joe-Joe's first Christmas present.

Joe-Joe's been dropping hints all week on what he wants for Christmas. He keeps looking through the Spurs Shop catalogue and leaving it open on the Baby page. I think he's got his eye on a  Chirpy the Spurs mascot rattle, but I don't think he's got much chance as his  mother is firmly against football goodies. For her, it's Baby Gap all the way.

We've already got Joe-Joe a really cool present for his first Christmas, but I'll keep it under wraps just in case he reads this blog.   

Mush, mush and more mush.

It's OK son, I feel that way about cabbage too!

 
We started weaning Joe-Joe about six weeks ago and it's been great fun. He likes practically every mush that we put in front of him - even parsnips and cauliflower - as my wife's helpful chart on our fridge shows.  

Personally, I like the idea behind baby led weaning where you feed them proper food and none of the mush - that's no purees, no ice cube trays, no food processor, no masher and no weird fruit and veg combos. Maybe tonight I'll hand him a pork chop and just let him get on with it!

Fun in the Malta sun!

Last month we took Joe-Joe on his first foreign holiday. It was all a bit last minute as we couldn't really afford to splash out, what with Deborah still on maternity leave and me earning minimum wage at 'That's NOT helpful, that's HALFORDS'. However, 'George and the Dragon' (Mike and Mary - my in-laws) dug deep into their pockets and my wife rewarded their generosity by inviting the two willing babysitters to join us on our week long stay in sunny Malta.

My wife and I adore the Maltese Islands. We tied the knot there in July last year. My grandmother Rose was Maltese and the youngest of 19 children. Hence, I've a huge collection of second and third cousins and regularly keep in touch with a few of them. They're all hard working successful professional people and amongst them we can boast a couple of doctors, both Olympic swimmers, a teacher and a successful restaurateur. My cousin's sister-in-law is even married to the Maltese prime minister! I told my father-in-law this fact a few years ago, although I now wish I hadn't as every other sentence he uttered in Malta was: "Tell them you know the prime minister." He applied this to every possible scenario from trying to get an upgrade on our AirMalta flights to seeking a better table when we dined out. He even tried it on to get cheaper nappies at a local supermarket!! "Can you knock one Euro off the price? My son-in-law's 'related' to your prime minister." I'm not and I've never met Lawrence Gonzi, but I'm told he's a very nice man indeed.

I must admit to being a little worried about taking Joe-Joe on a three-and-a-half hour flight. Let's face it, there's not much you can do if a four-month-old baby decides he's going to scream for the entire journey. I took precautions though and pre-booked our seats at Air Malta's website. I was set for a front row aisle seat and my wife and her parents were booked in the row behind. I figured that if he was going to scream then I'd  put in some ear plugs and wear a sleep mask and let them deal with it. You can imagine my horror then as I boarded the flight to find that my online seat booking had been overwritten by the check-in staff and I was now sitting in the middle of the plane with Joe-Joe potentially on my lap! I managed to get round this by exchanging my boarding ticket with the Dragon's and insisting she sat with my wife and baby in the row next to mine. It worked a treat and I wasn't troubled for the entire flight as Joe-Joe was a perfect first-time flyer. He made up for it on the flight home though when my disgruntled wife, unhappy that I'd "had it too easy", decided that rather then pass our sleeping son on to her father who was sitting in the seat next to her, she'd walk down two rows and plonk him on my lap, waking him up in the process. He screamed for a good 25 minutes until I managed to placate him with a hastily prepared bottle of powdered milk. We were short of ready made Aptamil baby milk after security at Heathrow made me drink one of our precious cartons of breast milk substitute (for the record it was vile and would never make it on to my morning cornflakes), plus, believe it or not, they don't sell cartoned Aptamil in Malta!!

As always, our holiday in Malta was wonderful. The weather was mainly sunny, with just one day of rain and the temperature in the high 70s all week. Apart from a dire first night in our rented villa in Mellieha, Joe-Joe slept well and with George and the Dragon eager to dote on their grandson at every available opportunity, I managed to read my first book in four months! ('The Ghost of White Hart Lane - In Search of My Father The Football Hero' by Rob White and Julie Welch - a good read for all Spurs fans.)

The highlight of my holiday was a lovely morning spent at Paradise Bay. It's usually full of Italians and foreign students during the height of summer, but we had it virtually to ourselves. The water was warm and Joe-Joe enjoyed his first dip in the Med. Wish I was back there!

Having a paddle at Paradise Bay

Taking his first dip in the Med

Baby Spurs

Following a trip to North London last weekend to see the mighty Spurs beat Queen's Park Rangers, I returned to Bournemouth with a bag full of goodies for Joe-Joe from the Megastore. My aim was not only to kit my son out in the best-looking baby attire around, but also to do a photoshoot with the aim of getting him in the next home match programme.

Apparently competition is strong for a place in the Baby Spurs gallery printed in the match programme, and so with that in mind I tried out a few different shots.  I settled on a smiling Joe-Joe kitted out in the new third kit sleepsuit. Fingers crossed he makes the cut.

In third kit bib

In away kit bib

In home kit bib

With baby rice beard

Action shot

Doesn't look too happy heading the ball

The Beatles Baby

Baby it's you! 

Joe-Joe celebrated his four-month birthday with a 'Beatles Baby' photoshoot.

Donning his favourite 'Yellow Submarine' T-Shirt and clutching the complete collection of 'The Beatles in Mono' it was no surprise that he was all smiles for the cameraman.

Joe-Joe's Beatles Top 10.

1. 'Baby It's You'
2. 'Cry Baby Cry'
3. 'Baby You're A Rich Man'
4. 'Baby's In Black'
5. 'Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby'
6. 'Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da'
7. 'This Boy'
8. 'Mother Nature's Son'
9. 'Little Child'
10. 'I'll Cry Instead'

The next David Beckham?

My late grandfather believed that football legend David Beckham was a distant relative on his side of our family tree, saying Becks' mother was related to one of his cousins who lived in Chingford.  My investigation on Ancestry.co.uk has so far failed to uncover a link to the former Manchester United star, but I'll keep looking.  

Beckham's late grandfather was an ardent fan of my team - Tottenham Hotspur - and I'm hoping Becks signs for Spurs in January after finishing his stint at L.A. Galaxy. 

Like any soccer-mad father, I'd love it if Joe-Joe one day played for my team. A few weeks ago I introduced him to a football for the first time and he's already showing some brilliant ball skills. Take a look! The next David Beckham?

Can babies see dead people?

I'll just come out and say it: I believe babies have a sixth sense, one which allows them to see dead people.

It's a belief I've held since 2003, when I'd sit and watch my baby nephew communicating with someone in the same room who I couldn't see. He'd either look over my shoulder or up at the ceiling and stare intensely before pulling a wide toothless baby smile and then start to giggle. It was very strange.

My sister and I tried many times to come up with a plausible explanation for her son's apparent ability to communicate with nothing but fresh air. At first we thought he was filling his nappy and giving a celebratory smile, but that proved a bum steer. We even considered if he might be cross-eyed, but his eyesight was perfect. After going through every possible explanation we came to the conclusion that it was his 'Sixth Sense' and just like the boy in the M. Night Shyamalan movie 'The Sixth Sense' he could "see dead people".

My grandmother had passed away a few months after my nephew was born and we liked the idea that it was her who was making him giggle. When he'd start giggling at the invisible entity we'd say to him: "Are you smiling at Nana again?"

My nephew's sixth sense lasted until he was about one year old. It stopped about the time he started walking. And then one day, when he was about two, my sister and I showed him a photograph taken when he was three months old sitting with his Nana. "Do you remember this lady?" my sister asked him. "Yes," he replied. "That's the lady that talks to me in the sky." I kid you not, that's what he said!

Three year's ago my sister had a second child, this time a daughter, and she too seemed to communicate with something invisible in the room. We wondered if my Nana had returned, only this time with my father who had passed away when she was just five weeks old. And now Joe-Joe's sixth sense seems to be active as I've been watching him from a distance this morning smiling and laughing at invisible people in our living room. I wonder... It's nice to think that my dead family members are keeping him amused when I'm preparing his bottles of milk.

I'd be interested to hear if you believe your baby has a sixth sense. Leave a comment.

Latest dirty nappy score: Daddy 47, Mummy 40, The Dragon 4, The midwife 1 
  

'Wolf Baby' gets a haircut!

Joe-Joe gets his first trim!

I took a look at the stats for this blog today and was surprised to discover that my entry on June 8 titled: 'Are We Having A Wolf Baby' has registered twice as many hits as any other offering on 'Joe-Joe and Me'. (Over 550 page views!).

It seems there's nothing like a hairy child to get mouses clicking on a global scale. I even had a reader in Burkina Faso !!! (It's a country in west Africa - I had to look it up!)

Chris Waddle never looked so good!

My prediction back then that our unborn child would be a hairy baby proved correct and last week I was forced to give our seven-week-old 'wolf baby' his first haircut.

Joe-Joe took it all in his stride and actually seemed pleased to see his Daddy carrying a big pair of orange scissors. My wife Deborah wasn't too happy though and it took some convincing before she let me loose on our son's locks.  I trimmed the long strands of strawberry blond hair that covered  his ears and after some persuading agreed to hold off from trimming the locks currently below his collar. I'm pleased with Joe-Joe's hairstyle and it can only be a matter of weeks before it resembles the mullet look of my favourite Tottenham Hotspur footballer from the late Eighties - Chris Waddle. Cool!


Latest dirty nappy score: Daddy 39, Mummy 36, Grannie Mary (The Dragon) 3, Midwife 1

I'm a freebie mummy!

Last week I spent an hour of my precious time when my son was asleep signing up to a load of internet baby clubs with the aim of getting as many freebies for Joe-Joe as possible. And this week the postman began delivering the fruits of my labour. 

On Monday a package arrived from those nice people at organic baby food company HiPP. It contained an A-Z guide on pregnancy and baby health "for mums", plus a comforter for baby with an elephant face on it. Sadly, there was no "A-Z guide for Dads" so I'll just have to be a mummy. At least Joe-Joe likes his orange comforter and allows it to rest beside his head in his child seat.    

The run of gifts from companies desperate to lure me in continued today when the postman delivered a package from baby milk firm Aptamil. The accompanying letter read: "Nick, Thank you for registering with us and congratulations on becoming a MUM." !!! Funny that, but when I took a look this morning I was definitely a DAD!!! Along with that rather annoying piece of literature the firm had sent a lovely cuddly toy polar bear. I'm not sure whether it's a boy or girl bear, but I wouldn't expect those people at Aptamil to be fussed over such details. 


Joe-Joe loves his bear and now holds it in a vice-like grip after his terrible two-year-old cousin Benjamin borrowed it for an hour and then refused to give it back! My wife seemed happy to allow Benji to take it home, but I wasn't prepared to let my freebie, sorry I mean Joe-Joe's brand new freebie travel to Portsmouth in the hands of my grubby nephew. "Get that polar bear back," I urged Deborah as Benji climbed into his car seat for the journey home. Thankfully, his daddy Ryan grabbed the now dirty white bear from his son and gave it to Deborah who ran back inside the house. As their car pulled away I could hear Benji sobbing uncontrollably, "Bear, Bear, Bear." I must admit that I failed to feel any regret for our actions, after all, I'm going to suggest that Mr. Ryan Read joins the ABC club and becomes Aptamil's next freebie Mummy!     

Latest dirty nappy score: Daddy 38, Mummy 36, Grannie Mary 3, Midwife 1

A visit from 'The Witches of Enfield'

The witches of Eastwick

Three of my wife's oldest friends; Kate, Sarah and Lucy made the 250-mile round trip on their broomsticks from North London to rainy Bournemouth today to meet Joe-Joe for the first time.

The trio, dubbed the 'Witches of Enfield' because of their resemblance to the actresses in the movie 'The Witches of Eastwick', spent the day making a fuss over Joe-Joe, taking turns to give him his bottle and burp him.

Kate (Cher), Sarah (Susan Sarandon) and Lucy (Michelle Pfeiffer) are taking Deborah out for a few drinks tonight. I'm sure at some point in the evening when they're downing Witches Brew cocktails (1 shot Blue Curacao, 1 shot peach schnapps and two shots vodka) Deborah will tell the childless women all the gory details about the night she gave birth. I do laugh over the fact that before giving birth Deborah frowned upon women that divulged their birthing horror stories - yet now she can't wait to boast how she pushed out a nine pounder with no pain relief. Maybe I'll suggest they try a cocktail called the 'After-Birth' at that point in their evening! (dash of lime cordial, 25ml Bailey's Irish Cream and 25ml of vodka). 

Now I'm wondering if the witches might have a spell for when I'm left holding a screaming baby tonight and trying to watch The Open golf highlights on TV. 

Sarah, Lucy and Kate (The Witches of Enfield) look spellbound

Latest dirty nappy score: Daddy 29 Mummy 30