Dear mummy,

It’s now been a week since we first met. It was a hard day for us both, though I’ll concede you probably put in most of the effort.

I thought that now was the perfect opportunity for me to review your mothering performance so far and highlight areas for improvement.

In the interest of fairness, I’ll just touch on my own contribution to your first week as a parent.

People say babies are hard to read. They complain that they have no idea what we are thinking/demanding/crying for.

Here’s a little secret, I’ll share it just with you. If I’m not hungry, cold, too hot, gassy, tired or lonely, then to be honest I’m just making a racket because I can.

You see it’s weird coming into the world. Think about it from my point of view.

I was snuggled up in the perfect temperature-controlled environment that was like living inside a giant pillow. Relaxing doesn’t begin to cover it.

Then I was shoved out through a tunnel that frankly was a tad too snug, to be faced with a room of people either in tears or looking so pale they were either about to faint or vomit.

Everyone else was dressed so I felt thoroughly unprepared for the occasion and suddenly very aware that I was covered in some form of ectoplasm and blood making me look like an extra from the movie Carrie.

Then a white-coated individual who looked like the only one in the room with any semblance of control took some scissors and cut off my food supply.

I think we will both agree that those circumstances would take anyone a while to come to terms with.

So mummy, on to your contribution to this first week of my life. My key observations are:

– The food here is excellent and plentiful – I heard a lot of mutterings about breast vs bottle this week but rest assured that if my tummy is full I am happy.

Please don’t forget to burp me and let’s have fewer complaints about the night feeds please. Growing is thirsty work, how else am I supposed to get to your size one day?

– I keep hearing the words “I’m so tired”. I’m unsure what you thought this job was going to be like but let me break it down for you.

You are not going to sleep properly (for more than six hours maximum at a time) for at least a year. After that you will be getting up well before 7am every day for the next 10 years.

After that you will be up all night worrying about where I am until I finally mature and move out at around the age of 25.

– The nice clothes are appreciated. However as you can tell most are now covered in poo stains.

I would stick to the cheap onesies for a while until I stop firing excrement like a torpedo.

– I am a baby and babies cry. You seem surprised by this.

I reserve the right to cry, as if the world is ending, for no reason, all night if I have to, and at some point in the next few weeks I will simply calm the f**k down for no apparent reason at all.

You may very well spend hundreds of pounds on gadgets to soothe me. I want you to know that none of them will work, although I will play along for a night or two with some of them just to tease you.

Please don’t put me down just because I’m being a bit of a a***hole. Your patience in this matter is appreciated, although I will never thank you.

– I know my behaviour as described above makes me seem a tad temperamental, like a bomb that’s constantly about to go off, but don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.

Your worrying is vastly appreciated with regards room temperature, bath temperature, outdoor clothes, nappy changing frequency and feeding times but honestly, try to chill out.

I’m actually quite tough, despite my delicate exterior, and as long as you love me you won’t be going far wrong.

– Lots of people have dropped by to see me since I was evicted from your tummy. It’s been great but these people make a lot of remarks, observations and statements that are downright wrong about me.

Please stop listening to what other people tell you to do and just do what you think is right. You’re the one I trust.

– This is the start of a beautiful friendship, I can tell. So in the middle of the night when I’m crying and crying every time you try to put me back to sleep, please just cuddle me.

Cuddle me and enjoy being with me, because I won’t be like this forever and you will miss me being this tiny one day.

I don’t need a lot right now, just you, and that’s what you’ve been giving me. Please don’t doubt yourself so much, I’m really quite happy, I think I won the Lottery when it comes to mums to be honest.

In summary I would say you get a 10/10 across the board, and if only I could give you a pay rise, I would.


Your baby

Mum Muddling Through