Well, we took the plunge. We've been tossing up whether or not to cut his hair for a little while now. It grows very fast, and is always in his eyes and getting scraggly at the ends. It's such a beautiful, wheat blonde shade though, and so silky. I spray conditioner in it every morning and comb out the tangles. I've always been proud of it, despite (or, maybe because) it doesn't look particularly masculine.
Anyway, Phil attempted a trim at first. Disaster. It was choppy and chunky, and not in a good way. So Phil took out the clippers. He demonstrated on his own head first, which of course made O very keen for Phil to go ahead.
I was excited at first. He's got an exquisite face that I knew wouldn't be spoiled by any haircut. But when it was all off, I cried. And then I cried some more. And then later when he lay on my, sucking his dummy and stroking my face the way he always does, I cried a bit more. And I cried this morning on the phone to Mum. And then on the phone to Lan, while I was on the train.
Why am I so teary over this? He doesn't look bad. He looks lovely, handsome, neat, grown up. Too grown up. I think this was just a catalyst for the release and realisation of all the ambivalence I've been carrying about having this baby at this time. Don't get me wrong, I very much love and want my second child, but I feel as if I've been forced to rush my oldest baby into being a big boy before he is/we are quite ready. All this one-on-one time we've shared, our little adventures, the moments that are just ours. I won't have many more of those. I know I'll make time for us to be together without the baby, but those times will be fleeting. I don't whether I appreciated him enough, I don't know that I soaked it all in. I was too worried about sleeps, and crying, and whether I was doing it all properly. It's not about that, it's a relationship between two people, the most intense relationship you can possibly imagine. And now it will be watered down, it will be shared. It won't be the same and I don't know if I am ready.
I feel like I lost more than just some gorgeous strands of golden hair. My baby isn't a baby anymore. Time won't stand still, no matter how much I want it to.
Uh-oh, tears again...
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
O's vocabulary
It's increasing daily! Here is a list of words he currently says. It's just what I can recall...
Hi
Bye
Mummeeee (yes, the emphasis is on the "mee", but he also says Mum too)
Dad/Da/Dada
I/I-a (Isla, his absolute favourite person on the planet)
Car
Door
Bath
Park
Baby/Bubbee
Boob
Chocshoosh (Chocolate... Yes, I know...)
Cheesh (Cheese)
Zach (his Cabbage Patch Kid)
Uck (Truck)
Bike
Shoes
Pool (he says this frequently, always wants to go)
Poo
Eyes
Bag
He also does animal noises and says "Shhh" with his finger to his lips when Isla is asleep.
Hi
Bye
Mummeeee (yes, the emphasis is on the "mee", but he also says Mum too)
Dad/Da/Dada
I/I-a (Isla, his absolute favourite person on the planet)
Car
Door
Bath
Park
Baby/Bubbee
Boob
Chocshoosh (Chocolate... Yes, I know...)
Cheesh (Cheese)
Zach (his Cabbage Patch Kid)
Uck (Truck)
Bike
Shoes
Pool (he says this frequently, always wants to go)
Poo
Eyes
Bag
He also does animal noises and says "Shhh" with his finger to his lips when Isla is asleep.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The scariest few moments...
Last night, I thought Otis was going to die.
He was eating some crackers with tomato and cream cheese, really enjoying them, seated at his new Ikea table and chairs. He suddenly started to cough, then gasp, snorting and choking and screaming when he had enough breath in his body to make a noise. We turned him upside down, we bashed him on the back, and every so often there was a moment of relief, and we'd think he was OK. But it wouldn't end. It felt like years. We tried giving water, we tried scooping bits out of his mouth, we tried to stay calm, but our words to one another were edged with absolute terror.
I was dialling 000 when Phil announced that he was OK. He was shaking, and red, and terrified, there was cream cheese pouring from his nose and his face was wet with tears. The three of us just collapsed in one big hug on the couch, and I cried and cried. I was thinking, "I won't ever complain about him again, I'll never raise my voice, I'll be the perfect mother..."
It was so scary.
This morning, I noticed his eyelids were covered in little red/purple pinpricks, broken blood vessels, the temporary remnants of his efforts to breathe. They reminded me of my face after I gave birth to him. The effort!
I love him so much.
He was eating some crackers with tomato and cream cheese, really enjoying them, seated at his new Ikea table and chairs. He suddenly started to cough, then gasp, snorting and choking and screaming when he had enough breath in his body to make a noise. We turned him upside down, we bashed him on the back, and every so often there was a moment of relief, and we'd think he was OK. But it wouldn't end. It felt like years. We tried giving water, we tried scooping bits out of his mouth, we tried to stay calm, but our words to one another were edged with absolute terror.
I was dialling 000 when Phil announced that he was OK. He was shaking, and red, and terrified, there was cream cheese pouring from his nose and his face was wet with tears. The three of us just collapsed in one big hug on the couch, and I cried and cried. I was thinking, "I won't ever complain about him again, I'll never raise my voice, I'll be the perfect mother..."
It was so scary.
This morning, I noticed his eyelids were covered in little red/purple pinpricks, broken blood vessels, the temporary remnants of his efforts to breathe. They reminded me of my face after I gave birth to him. The effort!
I love him so much.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
My affectionate little boy...
So, to describe Otis as affectionate is perhaps the world's greatest understatement. I've honestly never known a person affectionate to the same degree that he is. I love it, I encourage it, I relish it, but I'm also not 100% certain that it is not bordering on inappropriate.
We don't have a lot of physical boundaries in our house. The three of us are very free with the cuddles and the kisses, and we all walk around naked whenever it suits us. Afew days ago, I was sitting on the toilet, and Otis grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe my bottom for me. He tried down the front at first, and when I blocked him, he went for the back. He's trying to do for me what I've been doing for him his whole life...
It's sometimes not until you see other people react to your child's behaviour that you begin to question whether or not it is a little weird. We went to mass with Mum the other night, and he spent most of that hour stroking my face with two hands and gazing at me with the kind of loving looks usually reserved for romance novels. At one point he had one hand up my top, rubbing my now enormous tummy, and another on my boob, although this one was at least on the outside of my clothes.
People stared. Some oohed and aahed. Some looked a little perplexed. Many referred to him as a girl (because, didn't you know, only girls are capable of affection...?) I was enjoying the adoration and the intimacy, but was also feeling ever-so-slightly uncomfortable.
The next day, we were at the park with some friends. One little girl, older than Otis, went down the slippery dip with him between her legs. When they got to the bottom, he lay back on her and just smiled, enjoying the cuddle, whilst other children yelled at them to hurry up and get out of the way. Another of his friends was having a bit of a tantrum at one point, and Otis lay his head on the boy's chest and stroked him, trying to calm him down.
Is my baby going to grow up to be one of those people who invade your personal space and hug and kiss you upon your first meeting? Or will he just be a loving, tender, cuddly man who some very lucky woman will be so grateful for? I'm not sure. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the end of his hyper-affectionate ways is just around the corner, and I should enjoy his slightly freaky antics while they last.
We don't have a lot of physical boundaries in our house. The three of us are very free with the cuddles and the kisses, and we all walk around naked whenever it suits us. Afew days ago, I was sitting on the toilet, and Otis grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe my bottom for me. He tried down the front at first, and when I blocked him, he went for the back. He's trying to do for me what I've been doing for him his whole life...
It's sometimes not until you see other people react to your child's behaviour that you begin to question whether or not it is a little weird. We went to mass with Mum the other night, and he spent most of that hour stroking my face with two hands and gazing at me with the kind of loving looks usually reserved for romance novels. At one point he had one hand up my top, rubbing my now enormous tummy, and another on my boob, although this one was at least on the outside of my clothes.
People stared. Some oohed and aahed. Some looked a little perplexed. Many referred to him as a girl (because, didn't you know, only girls are capable of affection...?) I was enjoying the adoration and the intimacy, but was also feeling ever-so-slightly uncomfortable.
The next day, we were at the park with some friends. One little girl, older than Otis, went down the slippery dip with him between her legs. When they got to the bottom, he lay back on her and just smiled, enjoying the cuddle, whilst other children yelled at them to hurry up and get out of the way. Another of his friends was having a bit of a tantrum at one point, and Otis lay his head on the boy's chest and stroked him, trying to calm him down.
Is my baby going to grow up to be one of those people who invade your personal space and hug and kiss you upon your first meeting? Or will he just be a loving, tender, cuddly man who some very lucky woman will be so grateful for? I'm not sure. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the end of his hyper-affectionate ways is just around the corner, and I should enjoy his slightly freaky antics while they last.
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