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Finn’s 8-10 week Plunket appointment was this morning.

The Plunket Nurse immediately established a tactical advantage by enquiring whether I needed a breast pad – which I assume is the Plunket equivalent of saying your fly’s down when it’s not. Because I wasn’t leaking.

At least, not much.

When I demurred, she swiftly pressed home the advantage by asking whether I was clinically depressed.

“Who- you mean- ME?”

I actually looked around to see if some lank-haired dead-eyed twitcher had crashed the appointment. I mean: my jeans fit; it was a beautiful day; Finn and I had just strolled through the Oamaru Gardens; I had only a suggestion of dribble in my hair, which was perfectly straight; and just for a change I had remembered to apply mascara to both eyes. Quite frankly, I was positively brimming with bounteous motherhood, the fucking epitome of relaxed, ruddy-faced mental health.

In the face of such a vicious onslaught, perhaps it’s no wonder I let slip that during mealtimes we sometimes placed Finn in his bouncy chair on the dining table.

“I would question the safety aspect of that arrangement,” said Nurse Plunket, menacingly swiveling her steel eye.

Now, being Finn’s mother has opened up whole new avenues of anxiety for me. Sorry; did I say avenues? Make that motorways. I worry about him falling down a well, or becoming allergic to polyester, or being unpopular in school, or doing drugs, or his ears growing disproportionately large. Recently I had a nightmare that he went blind. In summary: I have anxiety covered without the Plunket Nurse’s assistance.

But the LAST THING I worry about is a baby who’s not even aware he has ARMS undoing both clasps on a bouncy chair’s safety harness, then propelling himself up and out and over the side. Or bouncing so energetically that the chair springs past his parents and onto the floor. (That’s the second-last thing.)

And even my imagination does not extend to our solid wood dining table developing a sudden and alarming tilt that defies the bouncy chair’s non-slip grips.

She’ll have to do A LOT better than that to alarm me.



Comments on: "Your fly’s down" (6)

  1. Loved this, had to share it with a lovely friend who is having trouble with those plunket-type creatures and their weird-and-off-the-fucken-wall pronouncements, here in Brussels.
    I can’t believe they’re still pulling this kind of terrorist crap so many years after I was a young mum. I mean, REALLY!

  2. What a beautiful baby!

  3. JohnP said:

    Seriously cute. Like his parents.

  4. mumsie said:

    Do you really have to go and see these tyrranising nurses? At least in our days it was optional – I think I went once, was unimpressed and decided I could use my time better.

    Finn is gorgeous – he manages to look incredibly wise and totally innocent at the same time.
    Congratulations to his proud parents!


  5. deadlyjelly said:

    Hi there y’all! Been meaning to respond to your wonderful comments and eh. I don’t have the energy to even think up an excuse 😀

    Di – it’s always lovely to hear from you – hope your friend liked the Plunket piece. They are quite STRANGE aren’t they? Always darkly hinting that they might report you to Child Welfare.

    FG – aw thank you! And here I was thinking I was completely biased. Andrew hijacked my baby’s genes: Finn is his mini-me.

    Jeep – cute as in good-lookin’, or cute as in able to shoplift a kilo of lemons without being detected?

    Mumsie – As an organisation I think Plunket is worthy – I was certainly grateful to avail of the Plunket rooms scattered up the SH1 for feeding when we drove my parents up to Christchurch – and the local rooms always have a jar of arrowroot biscuits – but it attracts people with power issues. If they weren’t Plunket nurses they’d be politicians, you know?


  6. Cian said:

    You’ve been totally confusing me recently with this Plunket business. I thought that by being a non-parent it was something that perhaps had passed me by. So I finally googled it. Glad that it is Kiwi specific and that I am not a total moron.

    But I love how wikipedia describe the organization – “… provides a range of health services to healthy babies and young children.” So if your baby is sick, don’t expect any help from us. We’re only nurses after all. Take it away to a real doctor. We do not want to be responsible.

    Well of course he is still as gorgeous as ever.

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