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<channel><generator>iloblog 1.0</generator><title>Jamie&#039;s Blog Feed</title><link>http://jamiesblog.outofitinafrica.com/</link><description>Random ramblings of my brief but adventurous experiences of parenting.
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</description><item><title>My New Business</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=118</link><description><![CDATA[ This week I shall write about what the title says and nothing more (astonishing isn't it). Some of you may already be aware of this, but others may not. So here it is, I am starting a business, all by myself. I have been working on this concept for almost 2 years now, I have drafted a humungous business plan which runs to around 50 pages and 10,000 words. (I am still tinkering with the the financials) but it's pretty much done and so the next step is to get funding. But just to clarify this is not why I am blogging about this.  I simply want to bring all of you, my friends and followers, on board so that I can share my experiences of starting a business, driving something new, the joys and frustrations...along with my adventures in parenthood and my occasional dose of random ramblings.  So what is this commercial concept, I hear you cry. It is a social enterprise and so the idea is not just about making money but about enriching others lives as well. All very altruistic. Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) is big these days. Everyone wants to know what businesses are doing in addition to just making money these days and so CSR is getting bigger and bigger. It's time for businesses to polish their marbles and show their shiny smiley face.  And so CSR is inherent in my business plan. I am sourcing African artists, unemployed, underemployed, unconnected and lacking in market for their talents and I am offering them a new and unique canvas for their work and outlet for their creativity. Southern Africa has had its version of CSR for centuries, called 'ubuntu' the community concept can be defined as follows -   "Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The
question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community
around you to be able to improve?" - Nelson Mandela 


















 "You are connected
and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it
is for the whole of humanity." - Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu  I am setting up a business which will offer hand-painted bikes, customised one off paint jobs to delight riders from all over the world. There are others that offer a hand painted service, but they simply go to prove my market exist. What I think this offers that's different is a chance to participate in something which supports those that need it. The artists will receive fair pay for their art, a significant proportion of all profits will be invested into a trust which will support local grassroots community organisations where the artists are based. Training, education, security will all be aims of the trust.   We will also offer bespoke handmade bicycle bags, hand printed tshirts and other "cycle-chic" that will also go to supporting the aims of the trust and will train and employ people to design, craft and create these products.  For those of you who "don't get it", that's fine, but believe me there is a market for this, a very big market (The cycle industry was worth $61,000,000,000 in 2009 alone and is growing at a significant rate, contrary to most industries worldwide - believe me I've done my research and I could quote fact after fact on this). What is also significant is that people are now spending large amounts of money on bikes and bike paraphenalia which is not about performance, it is about style, identity, looks and looking good.   Combined with that my bikes will not only look great but the rider will feel great knowing they have supported a worthy cause. Win win. The idea sells to serious cyclists who want the best looking and original bikes: it sells to the chic style icon who has a bike simply as a sideline of their life but who always want to look cool and who wants anything they own to make a statement about them as a person: and it sells to the socially conscious world citizen who likes to combine consumption with a good cause. Three strong and separate but complimentary markets for my concept.  Over the coming months I am meeting with artists and designers to develop the products which I'll start to unveil in due couse. I am building a website and putting into practice various elements of an envolved marketing plan. I am sourcing premises for production and most importantly initially meeting with backers to get finance.  It will be a long journey with hits and misses along the way. I am very very excited about it and look forward to bringing you all along on that journey with me.  Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ubuntu Bikes!  
 ]]></description><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2012 10:10:20 +0200</pubDate><category>Cape Town Diaries</category></item><item><title>Next Stop The Baftas</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=117</link><description><![CDATA[ So what's in the news this week? Well as the job search becomes more desperate, random and frantic, I found myself answering the following ad today -  EXTRAS NEEDED FOR NEW MOVIE FILMING IN CAPE TOWN - JUNE TO JULY 2012.     Colt Talent needs fit sporty men aged 17 - 45 yrs to play policemen &amp; soliders. You will also need to attend a fully paid training session in May. This is a great opportunity to receive and be paid for special forces training - those selected from the training will then work as action extras on the movie.   I know! What was I thinking??? Now I know I swing my leg over my bicyclette on occasion and goodness knows I expel enough sweat in the gym to think myself halfway fit..but I still struggle to really class myself in the category of "fit sporty men"...come to think of it I still struggle to think of myself as a proper grown up 'man'.  In many ways that some people fear being found out at work that they're not fit for their jobs and fired, I fear being found out that I'm not really a proper grown up and being relegated back to the pimply embarrasings of teen angst.  And 'sporty'??? Me? Sporty? I can pedal hard sure, but sport is more about kicking things, throwing things and hitting things. I usually describe my footballing skills as beneath someone with two left feet and it is unfair to put left-footed people anywhere near the same bracket of footling ineptitude. To say I throw like a girl would be slanderous to women the world over, but suffice to say I have been known to miss a dart board in the past with a throw not vigorous enough to reach the board. And as for hitting things, if it's moving and I have to swing at it then it can keep itself safe from fear of harm whatever it is as I swish, smash and swash every square inch of air around the object in question.  Newest to the Litt household on this front is a small tennis racquet type affair with wires instead of strings. It has batteries in the handle and is called a "Zappemdead". Upon contacting the wires contained in the racquet head with any transigent fly in the area, it emits a spark, a lightning like crack and said fly falls stricken and singed to the floor. Unfortunately, in my hands flies have been known to land on the item and then buzz of without harm and anything I try to swipe in mid air weaves lazily about my head as the nearest thing to it that I connect with is my own nose.  But to get back to the ad in question. Moving on from the requisite 'sportiness' and 'man'liness my next major problem with pitching to become Cape Town's answer to Bruce Willis or Steven Seagal is the "special forces training"!  Where do I begin with this one? As most who know me will testify, if there's "grrrr roughty toughty" stuff on the horizon I am likely to be seen disappearing in the diametric direction. I remember chatting to one chap who was ex SAS and foolishly asking him to show me a move. In a moment briefer than it takes to squeal like a small girl at a hairy spider show, I was on the floor and begging for mercy.  I can only say I very sincerely hope that the casting director for this particular blockbuster looks beyond my square jaw (stop tittering), dashing profile (I can hear the sniggers you know) and steely gaze (right, that was a guffaw I know it!!!) and see the trembling teen inside the headshot that they're sent and see sense and give the role to someone more suitable...anyone surely in actual fact.  So enough on a Friday night from me. If perchance I get the part at least it'll be a rich vein of material for further blogging bafoonery.  Have a good weekend all!  J  
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 04 May 2012 19:53:46 +0200</pubDate><category>Cape Town Diaries</category></item><item><title>Way of the Exploding Poo</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=116</link><description><![CDATA[ [Firstly, apologies to those of a nervous or delicate disposition, this is not a pretty sight] I think I have discovered a new substance previously unknown to man or uncatergorised in physics so far by chaps with large sandals, uncool trousers and a disregard for personal hygiene.  I had been warned about the projectile and explosive properties of poo, but nothing quite prepared me for some of its more eruptional and anarchic manifestations.  I know, I'm sorry, only last week I was gushing with apoologies (geddit?) of how I would not simply maunder on about the pitfalls of parenting and the boobytraps of babydom. I was instead just simply going to ramble on about whatever had affected me deeply, emotionally and significantly that week past...well this is it....POO!  Perhaps I have the teeniest tendency to over-exaggerate now and then (or 'make things up' as my wife callously calls it), but I kid you not I have been humbled and harrowed by some of the trouser happenings of the wee man this week.  Don't get me wrong, I love my son very very much. I love how he sleepily puts his arms around my neck at night. I love the way he smiles and hugs himself with excitement when I go to get him up in the morning. It makes my heart sing when he giggles and his burbling chat can at times be heard calling out from the other end of the house and it makes me laugh with joy.  BUT!  There is one aspect of him that makes me think he has a darker side. An element of his inner nature that is surely not right. Why else during a quiet communing moment with Daddy would the peace suddenly be shattered by a trouser trumpet of epic proportions, of such shoutiness and fartosity that I wonder if his lower limbs will have become detached in the process. Perhaps in fact it was not his bottom from which eructated this explosion but in fact was a passing thundercloud shouting lightning bolts across the vicinity.  But the loud ones are at least easily identifiable. You know when there's a quack, trouser cough or prolonged bubbling bottom burble (normally when he's sat cosily on my lap so I can feel as well as hear it) that nappy time is upon you once more and it's best to hotfoot it to the changing tabel without pause.  Even then, one wonders sometimes, how after a quick parp from his pants he has managed to project his poo at quite such velocity as to overcome the elastic of his nappy and make good it's escape halfway up his back!  I remember, having been warned of these escapades before, the first time I came across an escaped scatological situation, that was with hindsight a mere smear above the waistband I thought to myself, "Hah! This isn't all so bad, nothing a few wetwipes can't correct!" Oh foolish silly naiveity.  What started as a mere slip past the seam has degenerated (much like this post) into depths I had not previously known existed. I mean how...HOW???? I ask you can one such small and silent a happening end with mess smeared across not only his back but almost up to his neck, out the sides and across the legs and halfway up his stomach too? HOW?  At times, I've opened up the poppers on his clothes to find a mass escape from one legside only. A bizarre unidirectional poop. The worst is not when you know it's coming or even when you didn't but you discover on unwrapping the little chap...no no no. The worst of course is when you are quietly and contently spending some time chilling suddenly to become aware of a stickiness about oneself. A sogginess that was not previously there and upon panicked inspection reveals itself to be an extended staining across clothing (both yours and his) and possibly even the surrounding furniture, having oozed through nappy and outer-garments and made good its escape from there.  How this comes about so quietly and surreptitiously I have no idea and indeed leads me to conclude that is it, in fact, a type of matter beyond that yet discovered or described by popular science, that is perhaps closest in kin to the newly vaunted 'dark-matter' of space.  On that note, I shall leave you to ponder the perils of poo and it's deeper meaning for mankind's quest for the truth about life the universe and excrementally everything.  Until next time...keep it clean kids!  ps I shan't even begin in this post to go into the complexities of how one attempts to cleans a moving target of waving arms, legs, feet and hands which seek to spread the mess further and faster than is possible...again a question for science to answer.  pps Kate would like me to add one further scientific mystery and that is socks...how do they come off so easily, where do they go and why is it so difficult to maintain matching pairs. 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Sat, 28 Apr 2012 10:40:54 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>An apology</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=115</link><description><![CDATA[ Well, after a couple of weeks off, no posts, I am back to drivel and witter some more. I must admit I am thoroughly perplexed, my gruntle has been abjectly 'dis'ed and my usual equanimity has fled in a whirl of shame and confusion. OK, the shame is a little overstated, but the confusion caused it so there.  As you have seen I recently relaunched the website with spanky new pictures and a new format and arrangement. I also re-themed it as more parenting focused, promising reviews, guest blogs and allsorts of stuff. None of it of the liquorice kind.  I have utterly failed in that task, I'll be the first to admit. Even worse, by changing the host domain of the site, I immediately lost about 2/3 of my regular followers which I have worked so hard (yes honestly this complete witless nonsense actually takes time and effort to compose and promote) to accumulate after 3 years of slogging at blogging now.  I'll be honest (and this is honest, not just joky nonsense) I was so gutted about that I considered throwing in the towel and simply quitting.  Hence the break to gird my loins, take stock and consider my position.  The other mistake I made with hindsight (which as we know is a thing or great marvel) was to put all my eggs in one contextual basket and aim to blog all about one thing: Parenting. Now the thing is there are no doubt those of you for reasons known only to yourselves that have followed my piffle for some time without much regard to what it was I was rambling on about. But as soon as I tagged a subject to it, it made you blanch and balk at the thought.  There are also those that have nodded with co-parently compassion about the challenges I have addressed. But let's face it I think I am happiest letting my contextual compositions range from the inane to the not quite sublime.  And so if I haven't completely alienated and at the very least misdirected and lost all readers and followers in the ether of the interwebscape yet totally and forever then this is (as I titled it) an apology.  I am sorry, I will continue to ramble and meander across whatever subjects spring to mind between the start and finish of my weekly typing frenzy.  In the meantime, attached is a picture giving a stern and timeous warning to all Mums out there why you should never leave your baby or small child alone with it's father. They're simply not responsible people!!!    
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 20 Apr 2012 15:22:13 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>All it takes is a smile</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=114</link><description><![CDATA[ I must admit, I heard many many times before he was born from other Dadists that the first phase of parentaling was a troublesome one. The main issue at hand is a lack of 'Hello mate'. Us blokes we need a bit of 'Hello mate' to know what's what if you see what I mean. And let's face it, a newborn baby is about as without 'Hello mateyness' as it gets. They sleep, they poo, they eat, they sleep, they peer myopically...and just when you think that they might be about to smile for the very first time,...it's just a grimace of wind and they burp!  So whilst wife has worked hard making and baking the little nipper for 9 months, already physically bonded to the newbie and still bonded through boob in those early stages, for a Dad it is not so clear cut. One sits confusedly at the sidelines so to speak, not really sure what you're supposed to be doing, like a , well like a spare parent at the sidelines really.  The wee thing doesn't actually need two parents at this point. It has no need for Dadly things like having it's broken toys looked at, or fixing stabilisers to bikes or kicking a ball around. Nope, it just needs a boob, a burp and then bed, pretty much in that order on a 3-4 hourly rotation.  So feeling love for your child is not an easy and immediate thing. It (the situation not the child, I do feel more for it than needing to refer to it as it....err hang on), it made me realise that there are two very distinct types of love. I was concerned at first that I did not feel this connection with my child.   This thing that had joined us, so much anticipated and planned and prepared for. I had heard some speak of this amazing rush of immense love and how it is a paradigm shift in your sense of life and what it is about. This may happen for some but I honestly feel that it is the minority of blokes that feel this and more common for fellahs to feel like me: a strange tugging feeling of I'm not sure what, but mostly bemusement and being very very tired.  I remember looking at my son in those first few days and trying to generate this overwhelming feeling, searching inside for those strong undercurrents to rush up and engulf me, and then feeling like a bit of a fool and not much else!  But there is love immediately, the desire to protect and nurture this small thing. But there is no relationship at the start. And it is this that is missing at the beginning and which can only come with time. To really feel the true and overwhelming rush of helpless and complete love it takes something more than the arrival of the child and for me that start was a smile.  And as his smile grows and he starts to laugh he becomes more and more the little man that shows his love to me and that I feel the most amazing love for. There is still so much more to come. He chats and burbles and gurgles already but with real words will come another step forward again. And with his first steps another leap....toddling, a whole new world of anxiety awaits. I have an overwhelming urge to toddler proof my house already. The simplest way would be to never introduce a toddler into the home, but I fear I may be too late for that.   Wish me luck and have a wonderful weekend! 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 30 Mar 2012 11:14:19 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>News News News</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=113</link><description><![CDATA[ Crikey what a week it's been. He's almost rolling over, another milestone, well of course he is terribly advanced ;) He is exactly 3 months old today (at least he is if you're reading this on Friday 16th March, otherwise I'll leave you to do the maths). So a very Happy three month Birthday my little man.  His Uncle got engaged to his lovely girlfriend yesterday and so we'll be gaining another family member. Congrats to both of them, very exciting times.  And talking of marriages, I'm sure there was something else I was supposed to remember. Something that happened on a Saturday...err the 17th March seems vaguely familiar, perhaps 5 years ago??? Nope, it's eluding me for now but no doubt it will come back to me later on, or at least if I do not remember later then I'm sure Kate will remind me vociferously tomorrow.  So lots on the go this week.   We also went for a playdate yesterday with some friends over from the UK. I was very eagerly anticipating seeing him with another baby. He had met one a couple of weeks back and apparently they burbled and gurgled together quite merrily. Knowing how much he likes to chat I was really looking forward to seeing him connect with another little one and wax lyrical in babytalk terms about events of the day and current affairs etc.  But sadly this was not to be as the two of them were barely even aware of each other. Quite the opposite in fact, turn them to face each other and they seemed almost intent on squirming and turning their heads the other way.  Now, I'm sure this has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he chatted happily with a young lady friend but ignored yesterday's playmate simply coz he was a boy....ahem, well he has been known to be a bit of a flirt. I'm sure he gets this from his Mum's side.  So, lots going on, lots happening and lots more to come. Developmental steps continue apace and the implacable progress of time has marched us 3 months through already, which quite frankly makes my head spin if I think about it too much.  I'll leave off for now then. Oops I hear a squeak from the monitor, best go and rouse Junior and see if he's started to crawl in the 20 mins since I put him down for a nap.  Toodle pip! 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 16 Mar 2012 13:13:47 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>Timeless Hobbies</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=112</link><description><![CDATA[  No, not so much hobbies that have lasted the test of time,
knitting, stamp-collecting, breathing etc...but more hobbies that take no time. 

   

 Having time to yourself is one of the biggest challenges to
becoming a parent I reckon, well amongst many others of course. Since Zac arrived the first few weeks were a
tailspin into one small chore after another. 
That’s not to say he is seen as just a chore, but we do seem to lead a
day to day life of lurching from one little job to the next. Goodness knows how I managed when I actually
had a job. 

   

 And the moment you think you have some spare time, there is
a seemingly endless list of “oh I’ll just do that then I’ll…ooh, I’ll just do
such and such then I’ll…” and on it goes. 

   

 So how do I manage to maintain a little time to myself? I even recognize that with 3 naps a day at
present we’re incredibly lucky in the amount of potential time we’ve got and as
he starts to crawl then (aarrggghhhh) walk, it’ll only get worse as one of us
will be on constant corralling duty fending him off from corners, edges,
ornaments, climbables and breakables. 

   

 But back to hobbies: since ‘Z’ Day I have had to adjust my
expectations somewhat. Going out to bars
and drinking has become somewhat a thing of the past, and sitting at the
breakfast bar at home with music turned up too loud whilst drinking
experimental cocktails would hardly be a satisfactory replacement for this…at
least that’s what the wife has told me.  

   

 Instead for a bit of social time we’ve taken more to inviting
people over for dinner. A nice chance
for them to drop by sometime just before his bedtime so they can coo and cuddle
with him. They can also bring a course
so we’re not left lavishing 3 courses with no time to prepare. 

   

 What else has helped with some ‘me’ time? A hobby at home is something I have recently
discovered – gardening. I’ve planted a
few beans, potted the tomatoes and even sown the seeds of some corgettes. I’ve got loads of leaf on the corgettes but
the flowers keep falling off (I blame the cats), the tomatoes are more
concerned with imitating sunflowers than fruiting and as for the beans…well I
think this photo says it all really doesn’t it. 

 

   

 So with not so much green fingers as green fly abounding in
the Litt household, I have sought spare-time solace elsewhere also. Cycling is something I am known to enjoy at
times, but getting up at 6am to go out riding has largely been replaced with
getting up at, well 6am but to sit bleary eyed in front of the wee man’s
bouncer making conversation…he does like to chat ya know. 

   

 But I have at least managed to keep some semblance of riding
alive, and it is in keeping with hobbies at home kind of. Instead of riding out over hills and down
dales, I head to the gym and spin spin spin. 
Cycling for the static so to speak. 
This has the advantage of keeping me close to home just in case I am
needed whilst I pile on the miles.  

   

 That said, I do have the one big event of the year this
weekend. On Sunday I shall be out and
gadding about on the pink bike, possibly also sporting some new pink lycra to
match (my son will be proud of his Dad) whilst I participate in the biggest
bike race in the world. 32,000 of us
will be pedaling mad that morning to finish our 108kms as quickly as
possible.  

   

 I’ll let you know how I go. 
Until then, keep the hobbies close to home, bring your friends to you
rather than miss out on going out and most essentially, keep it brief if you
want to keep it at all J 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 09 Mar 2012 09:09:33 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>Bath-time Revisited</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=111</link><description><![CDATA[  So
for those of you with an attention span longer than my son’s (hopefully most of
you that read this but I am not passing judgment), you will remember a few
weeks back I posted about his first bath-time and what a stressful experience I
found this to be. I can still remember
clearly the heart pounding adrenalin levels and the sweat soaked t-shirt that
stuck to me afterwards. 

   

 Since
then a little practice and a few deep breaths coupled with a chilled sauvignon
as a post-ablutive award has helped me come to terms with this potentially
pitfall prolific time of the day.  

   

 Not
only this, but he has even started to settle into it with time and I think this
has come from two key things. One book
I’ve read, of the few, Baby Sense by Megan Faure and Anne Richardson (at least
I think it was this book), recommends that you talk to your baby about what you
are doing to them or with them, according them the same respect you would with
an adult. Well my first response to this
was that it sounded daft. How can a
child of a few weeks old whose current language skills revolve around dribbling
his elongated vowel sounds endlessly, possibly understand what I am saying to
him. And yet it does seem to make a
difference. He seems to understand my
soothing tone if nothing else and perhaps he is simply distracted from what I
am doing by my meaningless maundering in babytalk tones or maybe he does have
some actual understanding. One thing is
for sure, he will understand me far sooner than he will be able to actively and
verbally respond, so I shouldn’t underestimate how useful this running
narrative is to him. 

   

 The
second key element was brought home by a friend of mine who emailed me today: when
asked what his parenting top tip was he stated it very simply and elegantly as,
“The more relaxed you are the more relaxed your children are!”. Sounds so obvious as to be almost trite doesn’t
it, but you know what, so is most good advice, we just need to be reminded of
it once in a while or hear it put in succinct terms so as to hit the proverbial
spot, quite literally! 

   

 And
relaxed I have for sure, no not because I scoff sauvignon before bath and
bedtime, that waits until afterwards, but as things become known, practiced and
patterned I become more able to relax. 
And that really is the thrust of the big bite of parenting learning at
the start I think. 

   

 It
is ALL so completely new as to put you in the position of learning everything
from scratch. This is something not many
of us will have done for some years in our lives at this point. Ignorance is something we’ve tried to leave
behind, like teenage acne, or avoid admitting to, hmmm like piles or a secret
proclivity for the Bold and the Beautiful! 
Not only that, but you also have this thing you know nothing about that
is so, so precious and special. 

   

 And
so the change was really secured when last week we were proudly invited back to
our ante-natal classes to give the bath-time demo. It seems so recently, in fact it was only
about 4 months ago, that we were the wide-eyed nervous yet excited parents-to-be
who crowded round in awe and wonder as this small baby was bathed in a
complicated ritual of essential elements. 
Only 2 months ago, I blogged about his first nerve-racking (for both him
and me I imagine) bath-time at home. And
now here I am not only blithely bathing without even a nod to nervousness, but
showing and telling others how to do it too. 

   

 From
this -     



 To
this in so few weeks.  

     

   

 That
is the marvel of the pace of new parenting in my view. 

  
So, advice of the day, stay calm and he/she will be calm, recognise you will
learn a lot very quickly and most importantly, keep your sauvignon very very
cold! 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 02 Mar 2012 09:24:01 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>WooooooHOOOOOOOO!</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=110</link><description><![CDATA[  And so here it is, as if being a Daddist wasn’t keeping me
busy enough, I seem to have found the time to revolutionise the way you can
access my blog, offering an audio-visual delight, a cornucopia of internet-crafted
avenues upon which you can purview my populist panderings to parenthood. 

 In the last day I have 
- 

 1. - Revised and revamped the blog page. (for the shorter sighted seniors amongst you, I hope you will appreciate the larger font size) 

 2. - Completely re-worked the main website itself. 

 3. - Created a blog for Kate (she promises to post
diligently). 

 4. - Added a review and recommendation section for
“Things we like” 

 5. - And lastly and most controversially – I have
become a Twitterist and created an account on Twit – follow me @TheParentalist
– there are lots of clicky button gizmos at the bottom of the new homepage. I think one of them might do what you're after but I accept no responsibility for where they may take you.  htthttps://twitter.com/#!/TheParentalist 

 6. - Whoops – hang on, as if that wasn’t enough, Mrs
Litt has been busy becoming her own social media expert and has gone and
created us a flippin Facebook fanpage…KerRAZY! 

  https://www.facebook.com/TheParentalist 

 So like us on Facebook, poke me on Twitter and come read the
blogs whenever the mood takes you. Now
what else could you ever want from a Friday afternoon internet experience….well no
sorry we’re not that sort of website.  

 All things parent-related postwise, to continue next week
but for now, have a lekker weekend!  

 Ps - No, I’m not entirely sure what the Twit buttons do
either, and I am even vaguer on how Twit works but hey, it looks like it’s
worth a laugh. 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 24 Feb 2012 14:54:22 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item><item><title>It&#039;s Those Special Moments</title><link>http://iloapp.outofitinafrica.com/blog/jamiesblog?Home&amp;post=109</link><description><![CDATA[ Balls! As much as I love my Mac, when I am in the midst of drafting, in full blog flow so to speak, a three finger drag across my mousepad to wipe off some cat hairs (damn those cats) apparently has the effect of not only wiping the hairs but also taking me a page back on my browser....i.e. to a page preceding the blog I had already half written. Anyway, it was crap and I wasn't happy with it so perhaps best that I start again.  I have found that I miss stuff that I never knew I would miss at all, even more surprisingly that I now enjoy stuff that I never even gave any regard to before, but now given the rarefied chance to partake in it, I revel like a connesiuer...connesieuer....conne....a true professional.  An example if you please Litt you damn wordiferous waffler!!! I hear you cry impatiently (Not I've not been at the gin yet, it is only 07.30)  Lie-ins, is what I speak of by way of example of something 'missed' that I never even indulged in before. Yesterday, after a slightly testier night than normal, we had the joy everlasting (well for about 1.5 hours) of a lie-in. Grandparents abounded, Zac was surrounded and whisked off to a place outside of earshot and we took advantage of this rare and priceless opportunity of some quality time together by falling fast and deeply asleep.  And WOW, what a revelation it was to wake up at 10am, the sun shafting through the curtains and picking out the dust motes in the morning, the smell of fresh coffee and not a hint of a nappy needing changing nor a cry of hunger. Even the memory now is enough to bring a wistful tear to the eye.  Just 9 weeks in and I am abandoning my boy for my bed already, surely I am a bad bad parent that I love my pillow more than my son and heir at 08.30 in the morning?  I've never been one for lie-ins much, preferring the hale and hearty approach to sun-up, I could mostly be found donning lycra and heading for the hills on my bicyclerette, pedals pumping in a merry whirl of enthusiastic perambulation. But since the arrival of the Wee Man, I must admit to finding an otherwise unknown soft-spot for the afternoon nap, a weakness for weekend unwakening and a desire, nay a need, NO a visceral proclivity for sleep that I never knew I had.  I was worried how I would respond to the lack of sleep and the particular challenges this would place and pressures it would bring to play, but I blithely thought I would cope and just carry on. Maybe it is my age, perhaps if I had parentified myself 10 years ago I would bounce back each morning with a lustful "Good Morrow small child!"  I know I struggle to cope with hangovers in the way I could shrug them off 10 years ago, mind you I don't think a bloody mary is the correct morning approach to parenting.  And so in conclusion (yes you can breath that sigh of relief now), I must admit to having to thank my son for giving me an unexpectedly new experience and aspect to parenting, one which actually involves his absence rather than his presence. The snooze or a well placed lie-in is a rarefied pleasure....I really am a very bad parent aren't I ;) 
 ]]></description><pubDate>Sun, 19 Feb 2012 07:57:36 +0200</pubDate><category>Stories of a Dadly Nature</category></item></channel>
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