The Baby Diaries. Sam Binnie

Chinese burn position]

      Susie: God! Alright! You have my word that I will be nice to my mother. Why did Dad say that?

      Me: I think he’s worried about her. I hadn’t even told him about the advent calendars until then. He says she just seems really stressed and … well, that’s all, actually.

      Susie: Calendar, singular. The only rotten surprises in mine were from you, thank you very much. Nothing else, though? Just that she seems stressed? That’s pretty normal for Christmas.

      Me: Shouldn’t we be making more of an effort for her? Aren’t we old enough to be making Christmas dinner ourselves?

      Susie: I’d like to see you try to get all of us in either of our places.

      Me: No, I’ll always want to come here for Christmas, but maybe we ought to be doing slightly more than just turning up?

      Susie: Thanks, Mother Teresa. When you’ve got a newborn next Christmas, remind me to check how eager you are to cook turkey and all the trimmings for nine of us.

      Me: Ten, Suse.

      Susie: [looking at me as if I’m mental] At seven months old, your baby probably won’t need its own turkey leg. God, you have so much to learn about parenting.

      Me: I hate you.

      Pete: [poking head round door] Suse, where’s Frida?

      Susie: Oops. Asleep in the car, I assume.

      Pete: Was she asleep when you put her in?

      Susie: [staring at him] I didn’t put her in.

      Both: [grabbing the car keys, rushing outside]

      I heard the engine wildly over-revving as they sped back to their house round the corner. Dad wandered in from the kitchen, saying, ‘Where’ve Susie and Pete gone?’ I smiled sweetly. ‘I think they forgot something at home.’

      When they came back in a few minutes later carrying a sleepy-looking Frida, Susie came over and whispered in my ear, ‘If you mention this again, I will destroy you.’ I took her hand and said, ‘I know, Suse. I have so much to learn about parenting.’

      The rest of the day was good fun, although occasionally Mum did seem really tired. But the food, as ever, was wonderful, and everyone seemed pleased with their gifts. We put the kids to bed upstairs and stayed up late, eating and drinking and watching Casino Royale. Merry Christmas, you foetus.

      December 26th

      Home again, home again. For once, we (I) didn’t leave Mum and Dad’s in a flurry of repressed fury – it was one of the nicest Christmases I’ve ever had there. Maybe Susie’s right about Mum; maybe pregnancies do bring out the best in her. Once all the cooking was out of the way, Mum was just funny and relaxed, giddy and happy with her family all around her. And rather than the usual gross and/or useless gifts (dear GOD this baby better not be as ungrateful as I am), she’d bought me a beautiful maternity top and a set of the most fabulous nail polishes (‘Because nail polish always fits you, darling,’ she said, giving me a hug). Pete was around for the whole thing, Thom wasn’t stressed about his job, Dad romped with the Twins and I could not have been happier. Thanks, everyone.