Max and me

Well, my little bun is here! Or piglet, I should say, since his sound effect of choice is snorts of hunger. He was born early, surprising everyone, and I will spare you the details of my ordeal in the maternity ward, except to say it's cruel and unusual punishment to leave a new mother post C-section with a baby and absolutely no help or guidance as to what to do. Oh, if I could do it all again... (which, I can assure you, could not be furthest from my mind right now).

My parents are here for my 'confinement period', though it's not the traditional sense of it, i.e. I've washed my hair, had cold drinks and been out of the flat. I haven't, though, been allowed to eat chicken curry, have ginger in my food, and everything is cooked with sesame oil. Having your parents around when you're attending to the needs of a newborn 24/7 is GODSEND, by the way. I would highly recommend it and dread when they leave and I have to make the effort to scrounge up nutritious meals.

Some details about Max:
- He must have epic dreams; he looks scared, anguished, pissed off and trembles in his sleep, flailing his arms around to bat the dragons away.
- Many jokes abounded about the possibility that he would have red hair, like in his daddy's beard, and though it's brownish or chatain as they say in French, in some light it does have a roux-ness about it.
- He has dark grey eyes - another surprise.
- He has long fingers and toes, the former with which he conducts elaborate Vogue moves, scratching his face mightily in the process. I'm forced to beglove him, which is a shame because it's so incredibly darling to see him crossing his fingers mid-feed.

Time for some grub in the sty.