Housekeeping

Ahem...  Right... So... Err... Gosh, it's been a while. I'm kind of out of practice at this.  Bear with me...

It occurred to me that this blog could really do with some sort of rounding off post(s).  Some sort of "in hindsight" kind of thing, addressing some of the issues I talked about back when I actually talked about anything.  So that's what this is.  A recap and review.  A bit of a catch up will follow in a later post.

The Only Thing We Have to Fear...

Reading back through these posts, the first thing that jumps out at me is, "Gosh, I worried about everything, didn't I?"  I suspect that barely constrained terror is the natural state for first time new parents (and maybe second, third, fourth or even more-th new parents), so it's not that I feel silly about it.  It's just noticeable how much it influenced my thoughts back then.

I can't really say when the worry faded.  I guess it was a gradual thing.  Slowly you begin to see that your child is doing well, that you haven't dropped them on their head (or at least not from any significant height - falling off the couch doesn't count) and that they are happy and healthy.  (At least, assuming nothing horrible has happened.  That it didn't is something I'm eternally grateful for.)  You become better at distinguishing between "there's something horribly wrong!" and "I want to touch the cat!" cries.  You begin to understand your child's routine and act upon it.  (He's getting grumpy + it's 12:30 = nap time.)  Play becomes fun for both parties, some of the time.  (Other times, man, you just don't want to have to fetch that ball from under the seat once more.)

Obviously there are still worries.  Is it safe to let him play with a hoover?  (Probably not, but it's much less hassle than not letting him do so!)  How do we get him to sleep past 5:30am?  (No idea.)  Is he big enough to play on the slide?  (Yes, sort of.)  But somehow, they are lesser worries.  The elephant of terror that came and squatted in my guts for the first 9 months of Alex's life has upped and buggered off.  Yes, it's stressful.  Yes, you worry.  But it's less oppressive.  Less all encompassing.  Thank god.

And Another Thing...

The other thing I notice a lot of in my old posts is sleep, or the lack thereof.   That's still an issue.  Alex's sleep has been somewhat erratic for quite a while now.  Basically he has been tending to wake up between 5am and 5:30am.  We've tried a bunch of things (which I'll cover in the catch up post), but nothing has really taken.  I guess that a lack of sleep is just a function of parenthood.  For anyone expecting, get your shut eye in now!  People are not exaggerating when they say you'll be more tired than you've ever been.  What are you doing even reading this?  Get to bed!  Now!

Holidays and a Toothsome Treat

Ahh, nothing like regular updates, is there? Bit of an epic this one, so let's get started.

"You are now leaving Yorkshire.  Are you sure?"

The last week of April Nic, Alex and I were on holiday with Nic's parents, Alan and Hazel, and her brother, Douglas, and his wife, Christina.  (Granda and Grannie Sinclair, Unky Doug and Auntie Christina, respectively.)  We were staying, as always, in a self-catering cottage just outside the North York Moors.  It's peaceful, beautiful and relaxing.

It's also bloody miles from Dalkeith.

Now, I know it's not really that far in the grand scheme of things.  It's a good deal further from Aberdeen than Dalkeith, for one thing.  But this was the longest journey we had ever undertaken with Alex, so we were somewhat worried about how it would go.

We timed our trip down so that large parts of the drive would be over standard Alex nap times.  It turned out that he decided not to nap in the morning, but that was ok, as he spent the first hour chatting to his book.  Then it was lunch time (pork terrine for mum, quiche for dad, spinach goo for Alex).  Then we were back in the car and off again.  Alex fell asleep pretty much instantly.  And stayed asleep.  The whole way there.  Joy!

Once we got to Wrelton, I discovered an ancillary benefit to having a baby.  You get the best room in the house.  (The other bedrooms were too small to have a cot in them and, strangely, Alan and Hazel didn't feel like sleeping with Alex.)

The other primary benefit is that you have a cast iron excuse for not going on long walks.  ("Gosh folks, I'd just love to spend three hours tramping over a moor, but I don't think the buggy will make it.  What a shame.  Pass the cake, would you?")  An option to avoid exercise, other people to entertain Alex, tasty food made by someone other than us, what more could you want?

Well, how about not being woken up at 5 o'clock every monring by a bright eyed and bushy tailed little boy?  It was no doubt due to the long car-based nap during the first day, but Alex's sleep was a little out of whack all holiday.  (The first day required a few minutes controlled crying to get him off to sleep.)  Each morning he'd wake up and demand fed and played with horribly early.  Then, just to rub salt in the wound, he'd fall asleep again at around six for an hour or so.  It was not an uncommon occurrence to find both Alex and me asleep on the kitchen floor first thing in the morning.  (Alex usually got the best spot, rolled up in a blanket.)  Ahh well, if I have learnt nothing else from parenthood, I have at least learnt how to sleep anywhere and at any time.

During our holiday we discovered that frozen peas in an empty milk carton make a great toy, that peacocks like organic apple flavoured rice cakes and that Unky Doug and Auntie Christina are so entertaining that merely being in the same room as them causes fits of giggles.  (It can be galling as a parent sometimes when you've spent the last hour busting a gut to raise a smile and someone else wanders by causing great amusement by simply existing.)  Alex also got to make friends with seven (count 'em, seven) different cats!  Much happiness.  And I caught a fish.  (From a very heavily stocked trout lake.)  Alex behaved well on the way back home too.  And we cured the five AM thing pretty sharpish once we got home too!  (Thank you, controlled crying.)

All I Want for Christmas...

All of Alex's little friends (those from our NCT ante-natal classes, who I now habitually refer to as "our NCT litter" after having seen a litter of kittens on holiday, and those from NCT Bumps and Babies) seem to have at least one tooth.  Often they have several.  Alex, by contrast doesn't.

Until Tuesday, that is!  The discovery was made by Nicola on the bus on the way into town to visit Grandpa JRB.  A glint of white, poking through his lower gum.  A definite ridge of toothy-ness sticking out of the soft, pink gum.  It explained why his eating my nose had hurt more than usual that day!

A tooth!  Hooray!  We were beginning to get worried.  (Or I was a t least.  I don't know about Nic.)  Now nose eating ("kisses") is off the menu.  (It really, really hurts with a tooth!)  It may also signal the beginning of the end for breast feeding too, if Alex starts biting down with his new found dentistry.  That will be a big step, and not one that anyone is really looking forwards too, I don't think.

Your Nose!

(A link to the song behind the title. And this is the album and book it's from.)


Alex was splashing around in the bath last night (his new favourite game is to try and burst all the bubbles from his bubble bath), grinning away from himself.  Then, just for a moment, he looked up at me.  His smile widened, his eyes crinkled and his nose wrinkled up in an expression of shared joy.  Then he went back to splashing around.  This happens every now and again.  Alex is having fun, and he wants to share it with you.  It's only for a moment, but that ephemeralness is what makes it such a beautiful moment.

If there is anything better in the world, I have yet to experience it.

Pattern Recognition

Mr Toucan (a.k.a. Timmy, a.k.a. Monsieur le Toucan, a.k.a. Signor el Toucan when we want to work on Alex's Spanish) is no doubt the product of thousands of pounds worth of design.  He has baby friendly chewable bits.  You can grab his tail.  He makes an interesting noise.

He is also significantly less interesting than a cushion.

It goes like this:

"A toucan eh?  And one that's making an interesting noise?  Hmm, better check this out.  Wonder what he tastes like? let's just...  Whoa!  A cushion.  Sorry, toucan, but I've got some serious staring to do here!  Man, look at that stitching!"

Obviously it's not the stitching that Alex is really interested in.  Nor is it the cushion's inherent cushiony-ness.  It's the stripes.

Alex is a sucker for contrasting patterns.  (All babies are, apparently.)  He'll regularly become fascinated with the most random things, just because they've got patterns on them.  Nic's shirts are a common source of entertainment.  The aforementioned cushion gets a lot of interest as well.  His stripy mittens are endlessly amusing, especially as they move around in response to his will.

The baby merchandising world has worked this out as well, and Alex currently has three books consisting of nothing but contrasting patterns.  (Stars and Hearts, Spots and Dots and Snowflakes.)  They're from the local library, which turns out to have a chewable books section specifically for babies.  Alex loves them, although he finds it frustrating that he can't grab hold of the patterns.  (He doesn't seem to have grasped the concept of 2D yet.)  From a parental perspective though, they're marginally less stimulating than watching paint dry.  At least with the paint there's always the chance of a drip.

The Serious Business of Play

Two days before Christmas and a blanket of snow sees me grinning like a mentalist, building tiny snowmen in curious places and quick-step-quick-step-sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide-flail-flail-slip-stepping to the office.  I'm looking forward to Alex being old enough to enjoy the snow, as it will reduce the number of disparaging tuts I get for playing about in it.

Alex, meanwhile, is settling down to some serious play.  When you're teeny-tiny, play is pretty damn important.  How else do you learn about the world and how it works?  Can you eat your own hand?  Only one way to find out!  How about standing up?  Can that be done with one leg bent?  No, but it does result in Daddy pulling a funny face and catching me as I plummet Earthwards.  Interesting.  Will this duck ever sink?  Just what is that thing between my eyes, and why does it go "beep" when it gets poked?  Or is that Dad being silly again?

All of this is tremendously amusing for Nic and me, but not quite so funny for Alex.  Some things do amuse him; the nose beeping for one.  Others require absolute seriousness and concentration.  It's strange as an adult to watch someone jumping up and down (with assistance, obviously) with a look of absolute concentration on their face.  He's obviously contented (he'd be crying if he wasn't), but he doesn't look happy as such.  It's more the face of someone concentrating on a particularly difficult but satisfying structural engineering problem.  Enjoyable, but not amusing.

I can't help but wonder how much of these behaviours will evolve into "fun" play, and which will just drop by the wayside as Alex gets the hang of them.  Standing up seems to be far more interesting at the moment than sitting down, but will that last?  Will the jangling bumble-bee remain his preferred rattle, and will it ever be fun, rather than just totally absorbing.  ("Whoa!  That bee, man, it's like, totally jangling my mind!")  Will he ever get bored of being tickled?  (Not if he's like me he won't.)  Who knows?  It'll be fun to find out though.

Happy Christmas!

Duck you!

Alex has discovered the delights of bath toys.  Specifically, the rubber duck.  Even more specifically, MY rubber duck!

For the last few baths, I've been putting the rubber duck in to float about with Alex.  This has really been for my amusement.  Alex was more interested in splashing about than playing with the duck.  In all honesty, I don't think he even noticed it.

On Sunday, however, he suddenly got the idea.  I think the duck bumped up against his knee, alerting him to its presence.  Since then, the duck has become a firm bath time favourite.  The preferred method of play is to have the duck floating around Alex's legs and for him then to kick the hell out of the duck until it flips over.  Sometimes, for added difficulty, he'll pincer the duck between both feet and drag it up the bath. then kick the hell out of it.  Either way, the duck comes off worst.

When he first did this, I was alone in the bathroom with him.  (Nic was taking the opportunity to do a quick tidy, crazy woman that she is.)  This being the most exciting thing since his last poo, I obviously shouted for her to come through.  Naturally, Alex stopped playing once Mum was present.  In encouraging him to play, I let Nic see the bottom of the duck.

The duck was quickly banned from bath time.

It seems that Mr Duck had not been keeping himself as clean as one might expect from a bath toy.  His (normally) yellow bottom was coated with a thick, black mouldy sludge.  No matter how exciting Alex playing with the duck was, there was no way he was being allowed back into the bath.  Alex and I mourned the passing of Mr Duck.  Nicola just gave him a wipe with some disinfectant.  The disinfectant was significantly more effective.

Thanks to the power of Tesco's Bathroom Spray, Mr Duck has been allowed to make a triumphant return to the bath.  He was back last night, in full glory.  Alex celebrated by kicking the hell out of him.

Three months old... And it goes a little something like this...

(With apologies to ljck @ superhero. from whom I have blatantly stolen the style and idea for this post.)

In the best traditions of You've Been Framed, this montage should have a tune.  For the full over-ripe, smuggled in from France, escaping off the side of the plate Camembert cheese factor, I'd suggest Sweestest Thing by everyone's favourite Irish stadium rockers, U2.  Just try and not actually listen to the lyrics...

Three Months Old...

Let me count you in Holmes

1...2...  1, 2, 3, 4!

Little Man

Homeward Bound

 

 

Trout and About

 

It's All Relative

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Bigger

 

 

Making Friends

 

 

And Influencing People

 

 

 

And In The End...

 

(Ah-ahhh-ah, the sweetest thing...)

P.S.

I can haz guest appearance?