Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Dominoes....

... Except now my husband has the Roseola. Sigh. He is now feeling very sorry for himself - and for the baby as he now knows exactly how the poor mite was feeling just a few days ago. 'No wonder he wouldn't eat,' he moaned this evening. 'Awful sore throat.' Bit anoying after all the sites and books chirpily reassured us that adults hardly ever get it, just babies. Apparently 'everyone' is immune after about 4. Ummm, or not?

Really, really praying I am not up next. Enough already.

Monday, 18 June 2012

Down but not for long

The poor baby got Roseola (still no idea how to pronounce it) - a fairly mild virus involving fever and a rash - the fever was sad, he whimpered and looked miserable, felt burning hot and I had to reluctantly get out the Calpol and baby Nurofen - I know fevers are designed to 'burn up' the virus but the possibility of febrile convulsions always scares me... especially when it says in the books 'not to worry, they're really usually harmless, just scary to watch - but dial 999 if it happens...' umm, mixed messages?
Anyway once that stopped he got a rash and looked like a poor little sick monster. He carried on crawling, but in a desultory manner, as though it really wasn't worth the effort and sat about looking sad and weary. He stopped eating altogether and for one day barely drank, not even milk, which was a bit worrying. He somehow looked smaller, as though you need life force to make up the whole of your physical bulk and his was diminished.

But suddenly he turned the corner and woke up - at 2.30 am - full of beans and the joy of life. The rash had reduced quite impressively just overnight. By 3.30am we admitted defeat and allowed him to be awake - he was obviously feeling GREAT as you do after an illness and was keen to get back to exploring. It was almost a relief to watch him pull wine bottles out of the wine rack, huge books out of the bookshelf - which trapped his legs under them and then see how excited he was by a new swing kindly bought for him by his Great-Grandmother, which had arrived while he was languishing.

Normal service resumed.

Monday, 11 June 2012

And they're off...

He's crawling good and proper. His knees are covered with small bruises from whamming along our wooden floors, but he doesn't seem to care. What started as commando crawling (on his belly) became a tentative effort at all-fours crawling (with great Bambi-on-ice impressions along the way, the floors are pretty slippy), and then somehow his legs got stronger and he understood how it worked better. And now he crawls. Fast. As a result he has suddenly learnt several new things:

  • Rooms interconnect.
  • If someone leaves the room and you are all alone you can chase after them rather than cry for them to come back.
  • There are amazing new things to discover because the grownups have not yet fully childproofed the house:
    • House plants in pots of earth which is very yummy to eat.
    • House plants with leaves that are nice to eat.
    • Bowls of lavender seeds that can be eaten and spread around the whole living room, creating a lovely smell, as well as the appearance of:
    • The vacuum cleaner, which has lots of buttons, cables and fluff to explore (and eat).
    • Bins - and Mamma's 'cross' voice, hitherto not heard so much. Also the word NO.
    • The recycling basket with a LOT of paper to be ripped, strewn across the floor and eaten, preferably before Mamma catches you at it.
    • Stairs - and the hasty appearance of stairgates, disappointingly.
    • The (muddy) wheels of the pram - and the contents of the changing bag, handily near floor level in the pram under-basket.
    • Toilets, toilet brushes... and then bathroom door mysteriously started being kept shut. Sad really, that room had potential...
  • Outside in the garden even more things have become accessible:
    • Earth. Yummy.
    • Watering can for drinking out of/showering with.
    • Brambles.
    • Aphids. And that word NO again.
    • Small plants in neat rows. Well, they were neat.
With all these new things to explore the toys are mostly abandoned on the floor, except for two books of colours (i.e. a green page with photos of green things, etc) which are read continuously until they mysteriously disappear.... but they must be round here somewhere, it's just a case of pulling out all the books on the lower bookshelf till they are found again.

Thursday, 31 May 2012

Pass the Pimms, Mater...

There's no accounting for babies' tastebuds. After a tummy bug our baby refused everything except yoghurt and fruit for about a month. Then (especially when he saw a slightly older baby eating new things) he got interested in more variety again. But it's no good making him 'baby-friendly' things like simple tomato sauce with teeny tiny pasta or peanut-butter sandwiches - which apparently are the favourite food of half the babies I know - no, he has higher aspirations, like -

Strawberries - I first gave him a tiny mashed up bit with some cream from an Eton Mess I was eating. Now he wolfs them down, biting them savagely and managing to get through eight large ones in one day. And the other favourite is -

Smoked salmon. No good giving him simple plain salmon, nicely cooked up a la baby cooking expert Annabel Karmel, no, he wants smoked salmon, which he'll eat and eat and eat. I'm sure this makes me a Bad Mother - the salt! the uncooked fish! but he loves it so, you know....

Meanwhile the baby rice and baby porridge and baby pasta are sitting untouched on the shelf. Given these fancy new tastebuds he's developing I've been thinking what else I could offer him. Champagne in his bottle? Pimms in his drinking cup? Canapes topped with caviar after a hard day at the childminder's? All I can surmise is he likes quite strong tastes and interesting textures. So I'm off to look round the supermarket and in my cookery books for ideas. Squid pieces? Chorizo?  Tapas selection? Crispy duck in Chinese pancakes with plum sauce and spring onions? Who knows.

Tuesday, 29 May 2012

I can see you...

We spent two weeks at my mother and stepfather's farm with the baby and a change of scene brought lots of new leaps forward.

First of all, me and my husband went out for lunch, twice, without the baby - for the first time in 9 months. Admittedly, we spent most of our time out talking about how sweet our (absent) baby is - it's true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder. But to just be the two of us with no baby in tow was a novel feeling and very pleasant. As with our childminder, leaving the baby with someone else gives you confidence to do it again - nothing dreadful happens and really they have a pretty good time! We're setting up a babysitting club with our NCT group shortly (poker chips give you hours to trade) so we hope to make it a more regular occurrence.

Meanwhile, the baby learnt to 'see' animals. I often point out cats and dogs we come across round London but he used to blank them. A trip to the zoo resulted in the same treatment of giraffes - even though they were right there in front of him, towering several metres above us. But on the farm he met horses, donkeys, sheep, dogs and puppies, cats and kittens, chickens and chicks, ducks and ducklings. He did his best to avoid his toes being nibbled by the donkeys while the cats did their best to avoid being nibbled by him. Yesterday, sitting on our front step waiting for his Daddy to come home, a dog walked by on the other side of the road with its owner. "Dog" I said, as I've been doing for months. He stared at it, grinned broadly, and frantically tried to stand up so that he could watch it as it walked further away.

Another baby staying at the house, one month older, inspired him to try new things. She ate new things, he looked at her and ate them too. She could pull herself to standing via the furniture and he promptly headed for the furniture and tugged at it, trying to hoist himself up. She could crawl, and he redoubled his efforts. His foot still seems to get in the way and he has resorted to Commando-style crawling (arms only, dragging his legs behind him) to get where he wants to get to, but having a role model made a difference. A new baby is starting at our childminder's, who is just four months older, I think he will continue to provide inspiration for new adventures.

These experiences make sense. He saw things another baby could do, he had time to experience animals up close for a prolonged period and he spent time with his grandparents before he was left with them so he was comfortable with them, so none of these events are really surprising.

But while we were away we missed two swimming classes. One of the skills they are being taught is to 'hold on' to the side of the pool, a safety measure should they ever fall in. Before we left he would place his hands on the edge and hold on, but he had to have a knee under him to hold him up and he was doing nothing to support his own body in that position. The day after we flew back was swimming class. "Hold on" we said, and he gripped the side firmly, put his feet against the side of the pool and hoisted himself forward. The teacher told me to let go and there he was, holding onto the edge of the pool, head clear of the water, keeping himself safe all alone. I was astonished. I had expected him to perhaps not remember some of the exercises, even maybe to be a bit scared by the regular dunking underwater. But he had moved on leaps and bounds. The change of scene must have been building up some new pathways in his mind.

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

The spirit of a great granny

I consider myself fortunate to have a (to normal eyes) ludicrously extended family. We don't just have stepmothers and stepfathers - that's ordinary. We have relationships like 'my half sisters' half brother' and I once flummoxed my fellow students by telling them that for Christmas we would be at 'my stepmother's stepmother.' And so on. I have five siblings, all 'halves' whom I consider wholes. We have family get-togethers that would be unthinkable in other families, with two ex-wives, the current wife and all their offspring in the same room as my father, and everyone happy to be together.

What this requires, to make it work, is a generosity of spirit, and this was exemplified by my stepmother's mother, who was always very grandmotherly towards me. But she impressed me even more when my own baby was born. She took a surprisingly great interest in him. "I can see he's very intelligent", was her first remark on having seen an early photo of him, wrinkled and pink. I sent more photos and she rang me every time to say thank you. I would start normal conversations with her and she would stop me. "Tell me about the baby," she'd say and I would describe his swimming lessons, his fun in the doorway bouncer, about him learning to sit up. When she met him she focused all her attention on him and held him gently, her growing-frail arms tenderly wrapped about his not inconsiderable frame.

Tonight a candle burns on our table for a person who knew what it meant to be a real Great-Granny, and that blood ties had nothing to do with it.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Lift me up, please

It doesn't take long before a baby cottons on to how they can play you at your own game. We hold our arms out to our baby before we pick him up and he started to respond by lifting his own up towards us, a sort of acknowledgment that he was about to be picked up, which we thought was sweet. But now he has gone one step further. My husband was trying to tidy the room while the baby sat on the mat with toys. But he was getting bored and kept throwing away the toys and whinging. My husband, needing a few extra minutes to finish tidying, attempted to pacify him with offers of different toys. But the baby wasn't about to be fobbed off like that. Instead, he raised his arms up to my husband, clearly signaling wanting to be picked up. It's a small step, but a giant leap as it were, because once he's realised that, there are an awful lot more steps along that road. "I wonder what his voice will sound like?" said my husband one day. I think we're going to find out pretty soon, and after that it won't be silent signals, it'll be full on, loud requests that are a lot harder to ignore. Recently, walking along a busy road with my pram and fairly silent baby I came across two grandparents being held hostage by a toddler in a little red coat, who was crouched in a heap, screaming her head off about something while the two of them attempted to pacify her. I smiled sympathetically and the woman, seeing my small baby smiled back. "All still to come," she prophesied.
Can't wait.
Gulp.