Big Trouble in Little Baby
31 March 2006, 11:14
Scout has graduated from chatting to lamps, to chatting to us. In fact, to anyone who cares to listen (apparently quite a large fan club). She’s also becoming much more aware of her surroundings, particularly at 1am, when she awakes from a 5 hour sleep (down from the 7-8 hour sleep we’ve been rather used to) and decides she’d like to chat, thank you very much. Her vocabulary, however, is still rather limited. Here is her current vocab, with translations. Not in alphabetical order.
Ahbrrrrrr: (complete with raised eyebrows): “You’re funny, mummy”
Boooo: (with downturned eyebrows, not exactly a frown): “Could you kindly cuddle me a bit whilst we’re chatting???”
Yeurrr: “Don’t you just love the sound of my voice? I’m terribly popular, you know.”
Aaaaaaa: “I’m a bit tired, but I’ll give my adoring fans a little bit more.”
Agua: “That’s right - I’m so advanced, I can speak Spanish.”
Aaaieee: “Everything’s gonna be aaaieee”
Ahgoooooo: “Would you get me some of that tasty milk, milk lady?...”
AHGOOOOOOO: NOW!!!
It just breaks our heart when we’re half asleep to see her smiling and kicking with excitement and cooing when all we want to do is get some sleep…
Permanent Link | Comments [1]"Carry-on like a Porkchop in Jerusalem"
27 March 2006, 10:00
When I was a kid this saying was a perennial favourite of my father’s. I grew up on a steady diet of “Mad as a two-bob watch”; “Madder than a cut snake” and “That’s what the Actor said to the Bishop” (don’t ask). So when I’m breastfeeding Scout and she starts to arch her back, stretch, flail her head back and forth (alarmingly sometimes with boob still in mouth) and moan and groan, not unhappily, this saying comes to mind. Her new nickname is consequently “Porkchop”. She also has attained rolls of porkish fat, ala the Michelin Man (sooooo cute, my chubba…), so the name is not entirely undeserved…
I never really thought of this saying as being, to coin AliG, “Racialist” or insulting to those of the jewish faith. It is just an adage that peppered my childhood. Not that I escaped unscathed from imitating my parents, or books I read, when I was young. I have a vivid memory of being sent out of class when I was in the 6th grade for including some less than salubrious language in a creative essay. I’d been reading “The Omen” (I mean, what the hell were my parents doing, letting me read “The Omen” when I was 10???) and had simply though that a “Harlot” was a scary woman. The headmaster thought differently, my parents were called and a scene ensued. If memory serves me correctly, tears were shed. Mine. And my parents.
I accept my failings. I’m not proud to admit that I’ve, on occasion, said “Where did you pork the cor in the corpork?” Or called a person from Adelaide a Kiwi (I mean, honestly, it’s sometimes hard to tell the difference) and that I’m probably going to Hell for this post. But as parents, we really need to watch we say, as little Scout’s first word is destined to be “Ohshit”, athough McG swears she said “Love. You….. Dad.” yesterday. Dream on Husband.
I feel kinda sorry for our little cheesey porkmeister. She is at the mercy of our immature desire to get cheap laughs.
At least she’ll be a happy little Porkchop.
Permanent Link | Comments [1]Who are all these people???
22 March 2006, 11:10
...and where the bloody hell are they now??? Yep, we’re back in Melbourne, trying to wean Scout of all the adoration of family in Adelaide…
Scout was an absolute trouper the whole trip. Our flight to Adelaide was delayed by an hour and a quarter and as I’d timed feeding her to coincide with the original takeoff time, we were asking her to wait quite awhile (so that her ears can equalise, one is encouraged to either feed or shove a dummy in mouth during takeoff and landing, so I went for the former). She did so without a fuss, and with continuous rocking in Baby Bjorn. She loved the flight and didn’t cry once.
The next four days was a parade of rellies, all of whom wanted a cuddle (as can be expected!) I was absolutely fine with this, with the caveat that people wash their hands before handling her (and all other unspoken caveats, such as don’t pick your nose and feed it to her). We still do this, 2 months down the track (wash our hands that is, not pick our noses), just to be on the safe side, so it’s not like I think people are dirty or anything. The responses to this were somewhat varied. Most people were of the “I’d wash every part of my body if it means I can have a cuddle” variety but we did encounter the occasional reluctance and “Pfffth. You’ll get over that…” attitude. News flash. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions about child raising, but story is, if you don’t wash your hands, you don’t get a cuddle. Period. My daughter’s health is far more important than possibly offending someone’s ego.
Scout loved all the attention, though. She passed out in grandpa’s arms within an hour or two of arriving at McG’s folks house (she’d had a big morning!) and I was able to get a few catnaps during the day, whilst she charmed arses off the adoring crowd. I was concerned that the 3 nights of social events would put her routine out. I’d rather been enjoying putting her to bed at 8 and not having to feed her until 2 in the morning. On the Thursday she didn’t wake until 3.30 am. 8 and a half hours. Unfortunately, this was an anomoly, and we are still trying to get her back up to that 7 hour break.
McG’s brother’s wedding on Saturday was rather overwhelming for her (actually, probably more so for me!) There were perhaps 120 guests, many of whom I’d never met and everyone wanted a piece of her, to tickle her, touch her, watch me breastfeed etc. et al, blah blah blah. I know this shouldn’t be a big deal as everyone loves a baby and a boob, but after hours of this, she wouldn’t settle and was crying incessantly. It was kind of a shame, as the guests seemed so genuine, having Scout there was obviously an “in” for people to come and chat, but I was a little too stressed to take advantage of it. Too much stimulation. It was a long day as well - ceremony at 2.30, drinks and canapes from 4, then reception from 6.30 to midnight so we were asking a lot from her. She finally passed out from exhaustion just as the reception started.
The wedding itself was wonderful. V. emotional ceremony (McG’s bro has a 2 year-old who kept wanting to chat to mum and dad during proceedings. This prompted a gush of waterworks from bride and groom. Nyah…) Reception was also lovely - the DJ was a 70’s and 80’s music fiend, so much fun was had on the dancefloor with McG’s cousins (McG is not much of a fan of 80’s culture - can you believe he’s never seen “St. Elmo’s Fire??? We are truly of different generations…).
Catching up with McG’s rellies (aka “The Outlaws”) was really really good (I’m so grateful I can say that, I know not everyone is lucky enough to have truly cool in-laws). It’s rare to get everyone in the same room, scattered as they are across Adelaide, Mt. Gambier, Melbourne, Newcastle and Cairns. When I first met the Outlaws, socialising was a bit of a chore as I’m naturally rather shy (yes, I really am, shut up everyone who thinks I’m not…) but 7 years down the track they’re like my own family-by-proxy. And they sure know how to have a good time.
In keeping with my paranoid leanings these days, I’ve decided not to post anymore photos of Scout (or McG and I) on this site. Although most people’s viewing intentions are good rather than evil, our family’s privacy is the most important thing to me now. Fear not, though, regular readers, I will be posting updated photos available to family and friends to Kinki’s Flickr account, so if you’d like to access them, please let me know your Flickr login and I can add you to my Friends/Family list.
Here is my fave photo of Bro and Sis-in-law (and nephew) from their wedding.
“Mum… what’s that thing on your head???”
And a photo (the last for this site) of our beautiful girl. She is two months old today!
“Aren’t I perfectly charming?”
Permanent Link | Comments [6]My Friend, the Lamp
13 March 2006, 08:03
Lately Scout has started “chatting”. Not to me, or McG, no, her conversation partners of choice have been lamps. Wherever she goes, she susses out the closest lamp and has scintillating banter (I would even go so far as to say she flirts) with it. I’m just thankful that she’s pretty well-behaved whenever we go out (usually to a cafe or a friend’s house).
On that note, we are about to embark on a heavy HEAVY outing experience. Our first interstate trip. On an airplane. For 4 days. To Adelaide. To attend a wedding.
I never thought those 7 letters would spell impending organisational nightmare (crap, where the hell was I two years ago?). The cerebral planning is frying my brain. We need to organise a safety baby capsule for cars & taxis, a stroller/pram for the wedding, carrier/sling for the plane trip and most hellish of all, an outfit that I can breastfeed in that still fits me after the 9 month quagmire of pregnancy.
We are staying at McG’s folks’ place which is a relief. But not only is there a wedding (McG’s little brother, by the way), but two (2!!!) pre-wedding functions that we need to haul Scout to and flip my boobs out during. Pffthth.
The little angel has been getting between a 7-8 hour break between feeds during the night which has been heaven (she’s so advanced), but I want to be able to quaff a champagne or three at all events (you know, to be normal), so need to coordinate her final feeds with said shenanigans. Hopefully the excitement of travel won’t throw out her body clock too much.
I leave you with a couple of recent snaps of the girl. She just gets cuter every day (just ask me…)
Father & Daughter
“Who are you calling chubba?”
Separated at Birth #2
10 March 2006, 09:25
With all this banging on about how much Scout looks like McG (which is, ahem, a reassurance to all and sundry), I have categorical and indisputable PROOF (c/- baby photos from my folks) that she does, in fact, look quite uncannily like a newly hatched moi (complete with dodgy 70’s filtering…)
Permanent Link | Comments [3]
