Snail Mail

Baby D has learnt how to move in a straight line since our last instalment. He now slides across the floor on his tummy, one arm underneath his belly, the other dragging him forward like a wounded soldier in WWII crossing No Mans Land, keeping his head down dodging enemy fire; or as my less loquacious Mother would put it, like a puca-snail. Either way, yesterday he slithered out of the living room, all the way across the hall and into the bedroom all on his own with no assistance from Mama whatsoever. This was officially His First Independent Move. A milestone.
Another milestone on the horizon, of which Baby D isn’t yet aware, is Mama finding suitable childcare before she returns to work.
I’ve promised Baby D to find someone that will give him six hugs before breakfast and I won’t let him down. I met a girl yesterday who had glowing references and was great on paper but was hard to talk to.
I had a lot to tell her about Baby D. How he likes to prop his feet against your tummy and get his fat thighs stroked for a little bit before his nappy is changed; he prefers to lie for a few minutes after wakening up from his nap, hands and feet crossed, contemplating life before being picked up; he prefers to have his face wiped with his froggy sponge, not cotton wool and especially not baby wipes; when he bangs the table shouting “Eehhh!” after his Weetabix he’s looking for a mandarin orange; drinking a bottle is a task not to be rushed; he needs time to push it away, inspect the top, sit up, have a belch, think about things, then pull it back and drink some more; he flings his bunny rabbit out of bed when he can’t get to sleep but holding your hand and stroking a finger always helps him drift off.
But it was hard to talk to her, so instead of saying all of this I said, “It was great to meet you! We’ll be in touch!” and showed her out.
The search goes on…..

Fun and Games

I’m coming to the conclusion that Baby D’s teething symptoms are in fact a cunning Baby ploy to get me to take him out on an excursion. Each morning, after a bit of a rock and roll on the floor, he gets grouchy, rubs his gums a lot and starts to chew on anything within reach until I say, “Ah, are your teeth at you? Sure we’ll go out for a walk.” As soon as he’s in the buggy he settles back, teeth all forgotten and turns the charm knob up to eleven as he starts to play his favourite game of “how many people I can make smile at me.”
Today we’ve just spent an hour waiting in the doctor’s surgery, which would normally leave me chewing my nails down to my knuckles with frustration, but as far as Baby D was concerned it was the most fun way to spend the morning we’ve had in a while and his enthusiasm couldn’t help but rub off on me.
Here’s what we did: I read the Irish Times while Baby D smiled at the person behind me. Then we both walked around looking at the leaflets, Baby D keeping an eye on the door welcoming everyone in with a squeal and wave of the arms. After that it was time to play a game of horsey on my knee with a game of “Boo!” with the lady behind us thrown in for good measure (she was engrossed in her phone and didn’t realise she was participating in a game but it didn’t matter), and by the time we’d tired of that it was our turn to be seen!
I’m still not sure of the social convention when the little guy smiles at a random stranger until eventually they cave in, smile back and say “Hello!” Do I answer on his behalf (over eager) or ignore them until I’m addressed directly myself (standoffish). It’s tricky.
In the last week I’ve had this dilemma with winos on the Luas, barristers crossing the road outside the Four Courts, and an old lady in Marks and Sparks. “I have 5 children,” she told me as we sipped our teas. “It’s such a steep learning curve with your first. The second is much easier.” She was a little forgetful and repeated herself a bit, but even though her eldest was 55 years old, she still remembered how difficult the first year was. I'm not surprised, as I don't think I'll ever forget all the challenges Baby D has thrown my way either; but all the smiles and games balance it out. You just have to make sure to remember them as well.

Same as It Ever Was

Did you ever feel like you were in a Talking Heads song? I can’t remember the name of it but specifically the one that goes; “You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?”
I’ve being feeling like that a lot of the time since Baby D arrived. Definitely after attending my first mother and baby group, being slightly appalled by all the spitty-uppy, wailing, pooey infants, then remembering that one of them was mine; humming Israeli lullabies sitting cross legged in a circle of women in a Baby Massage course; wondering how to solve the problem of baby and a poo being in the bath at the same time; every time I get excited about a sale in Mothercare, honestly the list is endless. (And that’s not even counting the whole experiencing of giving birth to the little fella, although that’s probably more a ‘Psycho Killer’ feeling!)
The other day I was in a playground for the first time since I was seven, chatting with friends of ours, all of us keeping an eye on our various aged kids. One couple would have been our default gig buddies and shared obscure band obsessions with Hubbie; the other girl I didn’t know well but was single handedly responsible for us tearing through Gatwick airport in a panic trying to find an internet terminal to book R.E.M rehearsal show tickets and nearly missing our train to Brighton. There we stood, on a Sunday afternoon marvelling at the soft surfaces they’ve got in playgrounds now for the kids to bounce off when they fall, and that song started playing in my head again.
Later Baby D sat in a swing for the first time. He looked small and unsteady, the swing seat looked very large. I gave him a push and his little face looked around solemnly, chubby legs dangling, totally fearless.
“Imagine all the mad stuff you might end up doing in the future.” I said to him. “You might even end up climbing Everest. And I’m here with you for your very first swing; a once in a lifetime moment! Aren't I lucky.”
Then I gave him a kiss on the top of his head and we went home.