Firsts for Finn

Lots of firsts last week.






On Wednesday it was the first time you went in the big bath.

On Friday you had your first jabs but you also gave your first smile ☺.

On Friday you also came to stay at Nana and Grandad’s house for the first time.

On Saturday you went to your first party (you were the only baby there) and you slept through the night (from 11.30 to seven in the morning) for the first time.

On Sunday you watched your Mummy make the pudding for what will be your first Christmas.

And then (after moaning and mipping rather a little too much through the afternoon) you were dressed in your bear suit and you slept in the car seat all the way home.

Now We Are Six (weeks)

This is you at six weeks. You look like a real baby now, not a newborn.

Growing a baby

Last Saturday was your Mummy’s birthday so we all went for a walk in Westonbirt Arboretum to celebrate. The grownups looked at the trees which were decked in the last of their autumn finery, Summer ran round in circles and barked at other dogs. You dozed in your buggy.

The health visitor who came and weighed you on Friday says you are now 8lbs 9oz so your Mummy has been calling you fatty Finn. (She’s feeling smug because she is already back in her pre-pregnancy jeans.)

But I’ve been doing my sums and I don’t think you’re fat at all. Mummy is just growing you well. My old ‘how to grow a baby’ book - it’s really called Babyhood by Penelope Leach – says breastfed babies gain on average 7oz a week. Since you are now four weeks old that means you should weigh 28 oz more than when you were born.

Pounds and ounces are more complicated than grams and kilos – but take it from me that if you add 28oz to your birthweight of 6lb 12oz you get 8lb 8oz. So I’d say you are pretty much spot on.

In the footsteps of giants

This the Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. And this is the story of a giant called Finn….






In Ireland, lived a gentle giant called Finn MacCool. At fifty two feet six inches he was quite small as giants go, but across the sea in Scotland he had a rival, a strapping giant called Benandonner.

The two Giants shouted across the sea of Moyle to each other, demanding a trial of strength. Finn offered to make the contest possible by building a rocky causeway between the two countries. The path across the sea went all the way from County Antrim to Benandonner's lair - Fingal's cave on the island of Staffa.

The work was so laborious that Finn became exhausted. Oonagh, his giantess wife, woke up early the next morning to find her husband sound asleep.

Before she could wake him she heard the sound of thunderous footsteps and saw the mighty Benandonner approaching. He was truly enormous. She was dismayed to think that Finn would be no match for this Scottish giant.

As quick as a flash, Oonagh covered the sleeping Finn with one of her nightgowns and a bonnet.

"Where's Finn?" bellowed Benandonner. "Where is the coward hiding?"

He peered at the sleeping Finn.

“Be quiet," Oonagh warned Benandonner, "or you'll waken the bairn!"

Benandonner panicked. If this was a baby, how big would his father be? He did not stay to find out. He hastily retreated across the causeway, destroying it in his wake.

No one knows what Finn said to Oonagh when he woke up. Do you think he was pleased - or not?

There was a young man ...

This is you just hours after you were born. And this is the nursery rhyme your Mummy sang to you the next day.

There was an old man called Michael Finnegan, he grew whiskers on his chinnegan. The wind came up and blew them in again - poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again.

You were called Finn because your Mummy and Daddy liked the name. And then you were called Michael after both your granddads. So you were young Finn Michael Harrison. Not old Michael Finnegan. But you seemed to like the song anyway.

This is you giving me a funny look. I hope I wasn't singing to you. I can't sing.

You were born sooner than everyone predicted - two weeks before we were told to expect you. But your Mummy did everything perfectly and your Daddy drove like the wind to the birth centre in Paulton, so all went well. You arrived at one minute to six in the evening of October 12 2007 and weighed in at 6lb 12oz.

Here are some more pictures of the new you.


It looks as if you came with a health warning! Did it alert your parents to the fact that babies may produce hazardous waste at both ends?






This is you (asleep) and Ribbet (awake).








You did quite a lot of sleeping in your first few days.

Tamsin's birthday

This is a photo of your Mummy and her Daddy, not long after she was born in the Queen Victoria Maternity Hospital in Barnet.

Tam came two days earlier than expected. The date she was due was the same date that her Daddy, Michael, and I were to move house. But we hoped that – like many first babies – she would be late so we could settle into our new home before she arrived.

Things began in the middle of the night. Michael was at work on the Times newspaper and had to drive back (very fast) to take me to the hospital. And about three hours later Tam was born.

We stayed in hospital for a week, as this was the custom in those days. Michael had to arrange all the rest of the packing and moving and unpacking by himself. I was very happy about this – and extremely happy about our baby.



Tam had quite a lot of dark hair when she was born, as you can see in the photographs (although not so much as her Daddy). This soon fell out and was replaced by blonde fuzz.

Can you see the little red marks on her face? Trust your Mummy to decide she would come into the world face up, rather than the conventional way, face down.

Before You Were Born

Once upon a time there were two teachers, Mr Harrison and Miss Crozier. They fell in love. They got married. And then they had you.

This is your mother and you (the bump) when she was 34 weeks pregnant. And these are your parents on their wedding day.

Hello World

So, a new blog is born. This is not my first blog, and I know you shouldn’t favour one blog more than another in order to avoid blogling rivalry, but I confess I have great hopes of it.

It’s going to be a diary kind of blog. A blog of record. And the lives it will be recording will be mine (the designated babyscribe), my daughter and her husband’s (T and C) and, of course, you - the beanie baby they are growing.