23 September, 2013

Like Mama, like Madam.

My kid is weird.

Kid Mach 1, that is. Kid Mach 2 is too young to show his true colours. He might still be "normal" like Himself... you know, my ninja accountant husband.

Exhibit One. I present for your appraisal the following picture.


That hat? Her choice, both as a purchase last winter (hence the jauntily perched angle on her melon, it's too small now) and as a wardrobe choice today (when it was really too warm to need a hat, but her stubbornness knows no bounds).

Exhibit Two. This morning while I was sorting her breakfast in the kitchen, New Kid started kicking off on the sofa. I asked Madam to go see if she could make him happy as I was up to my elbows in jammy toast. She said "okay" in her piping little voice and hied herself to the front room to cheer him up. How did she do this, you ask? She got about six inches away from his face and shouted "HAPPY!!!"... When that didn't work (insert shocked disbelief here) she came back into the kitchen and said "cry!" with a confused look on her calculatedly innocent visage.

Exhibit Three. This afternoon on our way into town to pick up some lunch, I asked her if she'd like sushi. As a response, she shrieked so loudly as to startle several dogs and their humans and took off at a run towards town.

I rest my case. Freakchild. But then, normal is boring, right? RIGHT? Right.

22 September, 2013

Ode to Boy.


My son is six weeks old today. That's right, my SON. How surreal.

We won't mention how he's the size of a three month old. Fee, fi, fo fum.

I feel like I should record some of the details, because let's face it, my memory isn't one of my most stellar qualities. It's not helping that the six weeks he's been on the outside seem to have literally flown past. One second he was a newborn, I had a lapse in judgement and blinked momentarily, and now he's six weeks old.

He smiles. A lot. Sometimes he laughs in his sleep, which is doubly hilarious because he hasn't laughed while conscious yet. He has angry legs when he's thwarted. Same goes for his arms, he thumps me well and truly when I'm slow giving in to his demands for breastage. He'd rather I went topless and stayed on the couch with him in my lap for easy access 24/7. When he's sad, his sad face is the saddest sad face anyone ever had. Ever. Most of the time I'm pretty sure he's my grandfather reincarnated. He doesn't have vacuous baby eyes... he looks like he's got something to say, and from the look on his face, it's something sarcastic. Hence the Granddaddy reincarnation theory. He is handsome and strong and stubborn and cuddly, and as far as I'm concerned, exactly how my son should be.

It's still super weird to change nappies with a penis in them, though. Just sayin'.


04 September, 2013

Plus one.

That's right, folks. New Kid finally deigned to exit my ovarian Bastille, and we are now a family of four.

Things they don't tell you about adding a human to your already populated household:

1. 1+1 does not equal 2. 1+1, in Toddler/Newborn Math, is actually more like 5. The constant threat of random violence (intentional or no) from Toddler toward Newborn puts you on permanent alert, there's always a nose that needs wiping just as you've gotten Newborn to latch on for a feed, or Toddler decides they're starving TO DEATH while you're up to your eyes in Newborn Poo (so completely warrants the capital letters...).

2. It doesn't just take twice as long to leave the house. Add in a buffer of half an hour to however long you think it's going to take you to walk out the door. Someone will poo and require a change. Or will dump the half a coffee you never managed to drink down themselves and will require new clothes. Or will fall over because they were being a retard and stood on the block box even though you told them not to and it tipped over they're a toddler and require a cuddle and yet another nose wipe.

3. All your worries about not being able to love the new addition as much as you love The Chosen One your first child are ridiculous. You realise that you can love two people equally as much but in totally different ways, and get a little weepy writing about it because you're still hormonal and you never realised how happy you could be while never, ever getting enough sleep.

New Kid didn't enter the world as smoothly as we'd hoped. Despite the chiro visit the week before The Event, he managed to flip around so he was back to back. Back labour sucks. That's all I'll say about that. I did, however, get to labour in the birthing pool for a while, which was HEAVEN. I cannot tell you how nice it is to be gravity free in the midst of all that pain. Warm water washing over your lower back during labour should be mandatory for every birthing experience. I should start a petition, that's how lovely it was. Of course, I had to get out of the pool right at the end because New Kid, following in the tradition of his elder sister, couldn't wait until he was on the outside to let his meconium go, but HEY, it was great while it lasted.

All I'll say about the labour itself is... well, OW. Entonox is lovely stuff (even though Himself swears it makes me cuss like a sailor) but it's just not enough to mask the feeling of pushing out almost eleven pounds of human. That's right, this child was 10lb10oz at birth. 23in long. I had two foot of baby. The funniest thing is that there's not a single roll on him. He's solid, yeah, and has some thoroughly chubbulous cheeks, but no rollage. He's pleasantly squidgy, though.

He had some issues straight off... he wasn't breathing properly, had inhaled meconium, had a fever, etc. They had to intubate him to get him breathing and pump out some of the meconium, took him to the neonatal ward for the night and gave him a lumbar puncture because being born with a fever can sometimes be a symptom of meningitis... scary stuff. I was so out of it from the birth that they weren't telling me anything, it was all "he's fine!" until the next morning when Himself told me the real deal. He went up to see NK in the neonates ward while I was still getting myself together and fed him a bottle, yet another "not as I'd hoped" scenario. Madam nursed within the first hour of being born, and I was worried NK wouldn't take to breastfeeding after that first bottle... silly worry, really, as he's managed to put on a pound and a half in the three weeks he's been attached to the girls. *grin*

So, all is well. There's been laughter, there have been tears, and some of them were even from The Toddler, but we're still alive and kicking. Of course, we're mostly kicking each other what with four bodies crammed into our bed, but it's all good. We'll get another mattress down one side. These are the joys of co-sleeping. *lol* I'll leave you with a picture of the wonders of New Kid. Bask in the glory of his chubbulous cheekage. I mean it, go bask.


Have you basked?

Good.