Otis has OCD

He's a funny little thing... He freaks out if things aren't in their place. Or if something is torn, or uneven. Last night it was one of my hairs stuck to the rim of the bath. He pointed and grunted and made an "I am so disgusted" face until I removed it. The day before, it was a price sticker on a book I picked up for him at Vinnie's. Another time, the zipper in his sleepsuit came apart, and even after I managed to fix it, he kept pointing to the spot that was broken, a panicky look on his face.

HISTORIC OCCASION!!

Otis slept all night! He did not make a peep between 8pm and 6am.

I, of course, kept waking up and wondering whether he was alive.

My growing boy...

Otis is doing so many funny things these days. This entry is mainly for me, it is a record of my bright and bubbly boy's ever-growing brain. It may be boring for you, or come off as bragging. It's just pride though, honestly, and a desire to remember it all...

He can walk! Finally, over the Easter weekend, he started off taking 10, 15 steps, and now walks more often than not. He seems to be being pulled along by an invisible rope, he doesn't appear able to entirely control the direction he is headed in. Priceless.

He's doing animal noises. Woofing when he sees actual, or illusrated, dogs, and growling at tigers. Gorgeous!

He loves to "read" all by himself. It doesn't matter whether the book is the right way up! He gets a thrill out of turning the pages and babbling. My mother-in-law said he mimics my tone of voice when he does this. I am so glad he likes books.

He can identify an elephant, and puts his arm up next to his head, like a trunk.

He hyperventilates over the noise or sight of a motorbike, garbage truck (absolute highlight of his week), semi-trailer, 4WD... I never, ever encouraged such masculine behaviour. It honestly just happened.

He loves Thomas and Friends (he sings along, unclearly but with pretty good pitch, to the theme song), In The Night Garden and Bambaloo. Also becoming interested in The Lion King.

Likes clapping for himself when he knows he's done something impressive.

Points out planes, even when they are only a speck in the sky, his eyes and ears obviously work well!

He loves to bite Phil's big toe, and to smell his own shoes and socks and feet. All part of the novelty of wearing shoes!

Sleeping well, waking 1 or 2 times a night, on average, and easy to re-settle.

I've moved him onto the NUK dummies, which are better for the teeth, and he loves them.

I just love him with more intensity every moment, he amazes me and makes me laugh, and I am so glad he's mine!

Bringing Up Baby

I have recently been viewing Bringing Up Baby, a UK parenting documentary that screened on the ABC earlier this year. The premise — six familes test out three different approaches to parenting popularised during the 50s, 60s and 70s, respectively.

If I were to classify my own approach — taken not from any book, but derived through a combination of trial and error, instinct, common sense and love — it would probably be a mix of the 60s and 70s approaches. In the 60s, Dr Spock was the most popular of parenting gurus, and believed that you could not spoil a baby. Mothers were told to follow their own instinct and do whatever they felt comfortable with. Breastfeeding was advocated, but not pushed, and babies slept in cribs in their parents' bedrooms.

In the 70s, the Continuum Concept apparently took hold, and baby-wearing and co-sleeping became popular. Bottle feeding is not endorsed by practitioners of this approach. The general idea is that babies and mothers should be in close physical contact at all times, as continues to be practised in many tribal communities today.

I like the idea of the Continuum Concept in many ways, but I do believe that, as babies grow older, they tend to sleep better alone. Otis does, at any rate. I loved having him close as a newborn, and I'm sure I'll enjoy that experience with his little sibling, due to arrive in early November! (More on that in another post...) Baby-wearing is also something I enjoyed, but it is simply not true that you can do absolutely everything with a bubba strapped to your chest. It is very difficult to eat a messy meal, such as a kebab, for instance, without spilling sauce onto your baby's little head. It is also difficult to perform chores that require repetitive bending... Not as easy as it looks, I assure you. But I imagine I'll need my hands free like never before, when wrangling Otis and Sibling without any assistance on hand.

Now, to the point of this post. The 50s approach, as outlined by Truby King. What a vile, cold, monstrous individual he must have been, to have come up with such a method. According to King, babies should not be cuddled. They should be fed by the clock, swaddled and left outside to cry, and should, as a result of this detached approach, sleep twelve hours straight every night by the time they are twelve weeks of age. The appeal of this approach apparently lies in the fact that parents need not alter their lifestyle whatsoever. Adherence to King's strict routine allows parents plenty of time away from their babies to drink wine and watch TV. Because, you know, that is the whole point of becoming a parent.

King, and Claire Verity, the 'maternity nurse' who is employed by tired parents to instill King's methods, fills me with the type of rage I normally reserve for Rugby League-playing rapists. I was on the verge of tears watching these tiny week old bubs screaming, all alone, whilst their selfish, self-serving parents swilled cheap-looking wine and pigged out on pasta, offering one another self-congratulatory pats on the back for being able to tough it out and stick to the routine. What I want to know is:

1. Why have a baby if you do not wish for your life to change in even the smallest of ways?
2. Why is it that 'thriving' is so simplistically equated with 'sleeping through the night'?
3. How can a mother resist being physically affectionate with her own baby?
4. How can these selfish idiots sleep at night?

Honestly, I am all ears.

Otis is walking!

And sleeping in a big boy bed... And growing up far too quickly.

He's been taking a short sequence of steps for the last week or two, but only very sporadically, and with no real determination to keep going. His foot is still quite turned in, but he appears to have mastered how to manage that. I need to be more vigilant with the physio-prescribed exercises. She and I both thought standing would alleviate it a little, but it doesn't seem to have done so.

Anyway, just tonight, Mum was over and we were chatting on the balcony. He walked over to grab something dangerous and age-inappropriate, and we clapped and cheered like the maniacs we are. Then, after falling, he got back up, and gave it another shot. And another. And another. He simply wasn't giving up!

His legs are so skinny. Mum keeps noting how similar they are to mine — not much shape to the poor old calves. Sorry Otskin! You inherited Mama's spindly calves.

We bought him an extendable junior bed from Ikea yesterday. He was in heaven at the store, jumping from bed to bed. hiding under the covers, lying there all sprawled out with his eyes closed and a big grin on his face. Cute by anybody's standards. Anyway, he's still waking a few times a night, but he's quite easily re-settled in his own room, and doesn't come in with us until 4 at the earliest, but usually around 5. I just wish he'd sleep more soundly between 5 and 6, 6:30, as I really don't get much sleep during that period at all. Garbage trucks, snoring, tossing, shifting Phil, and a only lightly sleeping little boy don't make for ideal sleeping circumstances. Oh well. Progress has been made.

Otis has also just broken two new teeth, top and bottom right, with another 3 or so on their way. He's managing proper food so much better, sandwiches are swallowed within minutes, and he attacks apples very well.

His new interest is babies... How telling.

He is absolutely scrumtious, and I love him more and more with each passing moment. Sometimes I think I'll just burst.

Feed foreplay...

Yes, Otis engages in a very cute and innocent version of foreplay whenever he sees my naked boobs (usually when we share a bath of an evening). He starts with a shy smile. Then he'll often kiss my tummy a few times, and giggle. Then he'll kiss me, and snuggle into me, with his fluffy blond head on my shoulder or chest. He knows he's absolutely irresistable!

Next thing you know, he's on, sucking away, staring up at me.

Yes, my son seduces me in an asexual fashion, and I think it's absolutely adorable! What a little manipulator! He knows what he's doing.

Due to various reasons, one of which I will clarify in the next couple of weeks, I am trying to gradually stop breastfeeding Otis. It's not easy though, when it makes him so happy! He's been waking up and wanting it, these past few nights. I just want him to forget all about it!

Teaching Otis...

I feel compelled to teach Otis new skill after new skill... At the moment, I am working on familiarising him with a few body parts. And I'm having some success! If I ask him "Where's your tummy?", he'll lift his shirt and look down. It's such fun! He gets confused when I ask about his nose though. I guess that's because he can't actually see it. Might have to work on that one in front of the mirror...

Given how interested he is in his penis, I've started naming that for him too. Somehow he is already aware that his genitals are somewhat taboo... He giggles and looks at me with a sly, shy face whenever we discuss that region of his anatomy. Is shame inherent from birth? What an awful thought.

I read somewhere that at 12 months a baby should be able to sort shapes using a shape sorter. Otis is yet to master this, and I guess I feel a little frustrated with him. Which I know, when I think about it objectively, is nasty and pushy and ridiculous, but I do! Suffice to say, every day I spend at least a few minutes sitting with the shape sorter, in serious training with my still-only-a-baby son. I guess he'll figure it out eventually. He has a shape puzzle too, and enjoys attempting to pop the puzzle pieces into the correct spaces. Sometimes he manages, and I appear suitably enamoured and excited, but to be honest, I think those odd occasions are flukes. He's just not there yet.

He's communicating more explicitly with each passing day, although not 'talking' as such just yet. When we get up in the morning, I ask him if he wants breakfast or 'num-nums' (derived from yummy, one of his first 'words'). He dances and smiles. There's no confusion! He similarly physically exhibits joy when I ask him if he'd like some cheese, if he'd like a shower/bath, if he'd like to go for a walk, if he'd like a story, or if he'd like to go to the park. He and I both know what he wants, which in itself is progress! One of the hardest things in the early days is that communication barrier. Crying just doesn't cut it!

There are two other things he's learnt to do quite well. He can roll and throw a ball, in the right direction, with some skill. I don't have anyone to compare him to, but, what can I say, to me my baby seems super-duper co-ordinated! I'm sure he'd be walking already if it weren't for his gammy foot. He climbs so well, and isn't afraid of much (aside from my absence).

Today we had fun drawing with textas! The last few times I handed him a pen and paper, he had no idea what to do with either — both went into his mouth rather quickly, and were then tossed aside. But today he removed the lid, and made proper, efficient contact between the pen and the page. He scribbled wildly, and was so impressed with himself!

Reflecting on all of this, I think, truthfully, that I spend too much time doing, demonstrating, instructing, guiding and persuading, and not enough time just being. I'll have to work on that. Yes, that's right, I'll work on the concept of not working. Babies need down time, and, perhaps, so do mummies.