What do babies cost?

Answer one. Nothing. You just need a member of the opposite sex, and for most of you, a diagram. Har har.

Answer two. Your sanity. The best years of your life. Ho ho.

Answer three. Good question, let’s figure it out.

I’m sure you could raise a baby on biscuit crumbs and dishwater, but I doubt very much that any of you would do that. You want the best stuff, or if not the best stuff, the *right* stuff.

So let’s imagine you’re expecting a baby. I know lots of you are at the moment. I can only imagine the rest of you are stuck on the diagram, but read on anyway, you might learn something.

Before you bring the baby home, you will need:
Car seat: $130
Car seat frame $100
Changing table $200 (one of our best buys)
Diapers, wipes, tissues $50
Poo bin $50
Whole bunch of wipes (cloth diapers are good) $30
Baby swing $50
Glider $300
Cot $150
Mattress $20
Nest $40
Stroller with bassinet (pram) $300
Sheets, covers, towels etc $100
Plastic bath tub $20
Mobile $60
Clothes $200
TOTAL $1600

Ongoing costs PER MONTH for the first 3 months
Takeaway food (not kidding) 50×30 = $1500
Formula 15×15 = $225
Breast pump $70
Diapers, wipes $60
Poo bin refills $15
Clothes $300 (a complete change every month)
Trip to doc $60 cab $10 cover
Toys, books $50
Washing 3×30 $90
TOTAL $2390

I’ve linked to the ones we liked.

On top of these monthly costs, remember that one of you isn’t working, or you’re paying for daycare. Also there’s hundreds of little things to buy that aren’t on this list, and there’s things that don’t really work to waste your money on.

Remember that you spent lots of money paying for taxis to the doctors while pregnant, and myriad creature comforts to get you through that time.

If you haven’t just moved across the world, spending all your savings in the process, grumble grumble, then you can probably acquire some of the initial items through a baby shower.

If you’re comparing this to your annual salary and thinking, “oh this is ok”, try comparing the monthly against the amount you’re currently saving each month. Then remember that you need to actually start saving more, for college, for school, for emergencies.

And if you live in SF, don’t forget to upgrade your earthquake kit.

3 month extras
Mat $50
Jumperoo $80
Bibs (as many as possible) $150

6 month extras
High chair $20
Solid food $5 a day = $150 per month
Child proofing the house $TBC

Optional extras:
New camera $600 (I bet you buy one)
Better stroller $500 (because you shouldn’t have tried to save earlier)
Another cot (because he/she won’t sleep)
Flights and hotels for visitors (some of them)
COFFEE

TOTAL COST FOR THE FIRST SIX MONTHS $17,440

about twenty thousand dollars

Until recently, I didn’t have much experience with babies. Even when I knew it was coming, I still stayed away from friends with babies, because I felt I wouldn’t know what to do. I was sure that when I had my own, I’d figure it out.

This is true. You do figure it out.

But, hey, it might be that you’re visiting a friend with a baby (like us for example, please come and visit), and you haven’t had your own sprog yet. How do you behave? Here is a handy guide.

Say hello to mum. If not first, then at least second. It’s easy to forget, what with the baby.

Wash your hands before touching the baby. Golden rule, no exceptions.

Don’t take the baby. Ask, if you want a hold. But not straight away. Let the baby get used to you. Babies have a phase called “stranger anxiety”. If the baby screams at you, back off and give it time.

If the baby cries, keep clear. This can be a stressful time for the parents, especially with a guest present. Don’t hover, don’t help, just stand back and amuse yourself. Maybe take a walk.

Be prompt. You have no excuse not to be on time. We might be late – we have a baby. But don’t leave us hanging around waiting on you. It’s surprisingly disruptive (babies need to be changed, fed, napped, exercised), and besides, it’s just rude.

Don’t get all up in the baby’s face. You don’t shove your face into every strangers nose. He can see you. There’s really no need to be less than an inch away.

Don’t offer advice. Don’t take us aside and suggest we might be doing this wrong, or that wrong. You have no idea. Even if you think you have an idea, keep it to yourself. Instead, compliment us. Tell us how big and strong the baby is, how happy he is, what an amazing job we’re doing.

If you find yourself in the kitchen, tidy up and wash up. Observe the local practises (there may be equipment just for baby stuff). Try to find yourself in the kitchen regularly!

Take your cues. If we’re yawning vigorously, and asking about how you’ll get home, then take the hint and go.

Finally, here’s the best point of all. It’s the best. The winner.
“How can I help?”
Simple question. Ask it often.

We parents will thank you for following these rules. If not out loud (we’re busy), then in spirit.

We thank you.

I haven’t been running for a long time – since my baby was born. There’s just not enough time and energy for it these days. We wake up for the second or third time that night at about six am, pull the little one out of bed and try to soothe as best we can. By the time we’re all fed and watered, it’s about 8.30 and I’m rushing to the bus stop.

I don’t really miss the long run to work though. It’s a slow four miles along the coast, avoiding traffic lights and the famous San Franciscan hills. I just jog at a steady pace. The distance isn’t hard, just the boredom. Long distance running is pretty dull – you have to have a lot on your mind to be able to run without getting really bored.

It’s running fast that’s more fun.
Not a run, not full speed even.
I mean a full-on sprint.

That extra burst of energy you throw in when you’re already going full speed. When your arms are pumping as hard as your legs, reaching out to claw the air closer. When the skin on your face starts moving against the bone. When you shift your weight down and back, so your feet can make maximum contact with the ground, but it’s still not enough. When you forget about breathing because it’s just another distraction. When every muscle in your body is working maximum power, maximum speed, just to propel you forward.

That’s the kind of running I miss.

At the centre of my childhood home was a staircase. Not one of the elaborate kind, just a brown, carpet-covered, twelve step staircase, with a hallway on each end.

We’d play on it for hours. Jumping off higher and higher points. My older brother could leap the entire distance – I don’t think I ever managed that. We’d slide down face-first, face-down, we’d vault the bannisters.

My father taught me two valuable lessons. One, he said I should climb the stairs in twos. I’m not sure why this was important, but I’ve done this ever since. From a couple of steps run-up, I can easily fly up in twos, threes, or even fours.

I take the London Underground escalator in twos as well, enjoying that satisfying moment of airtime the additional speed of the escalator gives you when you hit the peak.

The other lesson was that you should tread lightly. Even when hitting the stairs to climb four in one go, your step should be virtually undetectable. I can imagine why he thought this important (probably not the noise, actually, he was always just worried about us destroying his house).

I love moving without making a sound. To this day, I take my shoes off at the door, and move soundlessly around my apartment in socks. I avoid the squeaky floorboards. I step with the ball of my foot first. My heel touches the ground, but doesn’t take my weight.

Try it now, it’s actually quite fun. And harder than you’d think.

You have to walk confidently – no tiptoeing around the place. Learn your floorboards, your squeaky steps, and like an obsessive-compulsive approaching a crack, you go around.

I do the same outside the house. My shoes are Nike Frees. Maximum comfort, minimum noise. It’s a different walk, the placement of your foot is quite different. I stroll silently around the office, while others rattle the furniture as they stomp past.

Of course, it’s not without problems. At home, I scare the living daylights out of my wife on a regular basis. I now have to announce my presence as I approach: “I’m coming, I’m coming,”. I wonder what our neighbours think of it.

It’s harmless fun, I enjoy it, and it makes me more of a ninja than all you JavaScripters out there.

My annual End of Year update. See previous years: 2010, 2009 and 2008.

Last year I said I’d:

• Run another marathon.
• Write some more.
• Enjoy my new job and life in SF.

Well, I’ll score that a two out of three. Yes, I ran the marathon, but I stopped halfway (oh, the hills!); I didn’t really blog any more; but yes I enjoyed life in SF. Sometimes life makes things difficult, but my amazing wife and I got through it together.

We started the year in an empty apartment, sleeping on the floor, not knowing anyone in the city. By the end, I feel we’ve settled in and started to make friends.

This year I have: Continue reading →

I’m happy to announce the release of a project we’ve been working on for a while now: a new little human.

This project has turned out to be far more complicated than I ever imagined it could be, and so during development, my wife and I agreed to keep our news offline until the launch.

Now we’ve hit 1.0, and we’ve come to like the privacy. So we’re going to keep this one to ourselves, and enjoy ourselves without needing to overshare all the details all over Facebook and Twitter.

We’ve discovered a new respect for everyone who’s been through this development cycle before. Parents are heroes.

Let me know by email if you want to know more.

Before I get started, I want to make absolutely clear that this is really all your fault. You are entirely at fault here, and I take no responsibility whatsoever for your actions. Continue reading →

We have been here for nearly six months now.
This is what we’ve learned: Continue reading →

My annual End of Year update. See previous years: 2009 and 2008.

This year had ups and downs. The downs are no fun, so let’s focus on the ups.
This year I have: Continue reading →

Unless you’ve been stuck in a cave somewhere, held hostage by extremists, fallen deep into a coma, been discovered living on arsenic, or, worst of all, not been following me online, you’ll know that we’ve up and moved to San Francisco, California, so that I can go to work for Twitter. Continue reading →