N- Newborns

I'd already had two babies. I was prepared for number three. "Oh an expert" midwifes would exclaim when I told them I already had two at home.After having two, you are hardened to the world of parenting, but never an expert.

You don't forget the nights, or the nappies, or the first smiles, But there are somethings you do forget about...

I forgot how long you can just look at them for. My mum rang me when my newest addition was 2 weeks old:

Mum: What are you doing?
Me: Just sat here... looking at him.
Mum How long have you been doing that for?
Me: About an hour.

You can just look at them. They may move, or murmur, or flutter their eyes. Or they may do nothing at all. Either way you will be transfixed. Whatever time you have, can be spent just, contently, looking at them.

The other thing I forgot was the five second window. When you have a toddler, the nappy change can take up to half an hour. You start, get half way through, the child escapes and runs off, you retrieve him, you fish out the sudo-creme from under the couch, you misplace the nappy, you get another one,the child has run away again, you retrieve him... etc etc And in this time, you'll be really unlucky if the toddler has an accident.

However, with a newborn you have a five-second window. It's a military operation. Everything must be ready, placed perfectly by your side, you've got to be quick, precise and efficient. You will only take "too long once". Only one second over and they'll have an accident, and if the newborn is a boy, it's likely that accident will hit you in the eye.

N - Not having a girl.

I have two adorable boys. I recently found out I was having a third. As we have decided this is the last pregnancy, a third boy came a bit of a shock. Even though I had tried to prepare myself for the likelihood of having three sons and what a blessing this was going to be, I still had to come to terms with the news I was never going to have a daughter.

My mum is a feminist, a product of becoming a woman during the 60's and 70's. My sister and I are therefore mini-feminists; we have soaked up her opinions, we've been brought up to believe, as women, we can do anything, but we have become women in a society where equality and political correctness have been breathing down people's necks.

In my childhood, my strongest family influences were all women, they were always more dominant; my grandmas, my aunties and my elder sister. Although I have often found myself forming easier rapports with men, when it comes to guidance, influence, idols and role models, I have always turned to women. I have formed many (unromantic) friendships with men, but they have never lasted, only ever been circumstantial, whereas the ones which last, the ones I work at, the ones where I have put the effort in have all been with other women. My favourite writers, musicians, actors and teachers are all been women.

So, when I looked at my future self, I was always with daughters. I just expected to have them. So to accept that you won't, that takes a while to be something you can say comfortably.

For me, it's not about the frills, or the colour pink, or plaiting hair, or buying bras or planning weddings (for gods sake I can't be arsed to plan my own)! It's about something I wanted to pass on; a bond, a relationship, a sisterhood.

But with the ever growing girl-worship in our society, maybe I was needed to raise boys; to re-establish the balance. Champion the underdog once more. The boy! The glorious, adorable, loud, boisterous, sensitive, intelligent, loving boy!

N - Nesting

If you a pregnant, generally lazy by nature, avoid housework at all costs and don't own a duster, then you might be the type of pregnant woman sat amongst her own sloth  thinking "It doesn't matter, I'll sort it when I get that nesting thing." I wouldn't count on it.

I have a theory with nesting - there are two types of women: the women who nest and the women who don't. Women who nest have been doing their whole lives. As little girls they were sorting their bookshelves into alphabetical order while the women who don't, would attempt to tidy a bookshelf, and spend the time pulling off all the books, flicking through them, finding their favourite pages and re-reading them - probably out loud to an imaginary audience, or worse, they wouldn't even have attempted it and would be stuck up a tree somewhere trying to impress the lad from down the road.

I am a woman who doesn't nest. Housework for me, takes the mental journey that others face running a marathon; I need to go into training, find the mental stamina, have deadlines and consequences...  and I find the whole thing just as exhausting. Therefore, when I was pregnant with my first child, I  was quite looking forward to nesting - "my house will finally be clean" I thought. But ,unfortunately, I didn't get the desire to clean I just wanted a new house - or a least a newly decorated one. I was miserable, irrational and took a new found dislike to our house, its decor and contents. So much so, that I threatened to cancel my baby shower, unless changes were made. Which, bless The Future Husband, they were.

Consequently, when I was pregnant with my second child I turned to The FH and said "This time can you be in charge of nesting. I'm not very good it." We ended up getting 10 thousand pounds of building work done, including an unexpected rewire, and living at my parents for 8 weeks with a part-toilet trained toddler and a new born baby!

Correction to the opening paragraph: there are women who nest, women who don't and Men who... obliterate!