Three weeks old

He's three weeks old and I think he's starting to recognise me. There are times when he looks at me with what amounts to pure disgust - usually when he's just woken up. And there are times when he looks like he actually might love me - or at least like me a little bit.

If you're ever planning on being a parent I would suggest never reading We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. Mr Jones keeps reminding me that it is just a novel - but it sticks in the back of my mind and niggles at me time and again.

Everytime he gives me one of his nasty looks I wonder if he's going to turn into a Kevin and end up trying to kill Mr Jones and any future siblings he might have just to spite me - then I remember that it's just a book - and then he smiles and even if it is just because he's got wind, I think - "no you aren't evil - even if you do keep waking me in the middle of the night and insist on starting the day at 5am"

I will admit that the tiredness is kicking in. The initial post birth adrenalin has gone and the lack of sleep is taking it's toll. There have been fractious exchanges between me and Mr Jones - but we're still talking and with a bit of planning and organisation - and the realisation that sacrifices have to be made - we're getting on better.

We're learning how he works and how to make him feel better. He loves cuddles, but he also likes time on his own. Somedays he loves his bath, other days he hates it. He's a typical male and can't multi-task - breast feeding anywhere with any distractions really doesn't work.

Perhaps the best milestone achieved this week is that Rufus has his first piece of Boden! A pair of blue ticking dungerees - which won't fit him for ages - but I love them and everyone needs a bit of Johnny in their wardrobe. Plus when they arrived there just happened to be two mummy sized tops in the bag too - ooops!