SHUT UP

Every bl**dy year it is the same. The local kids grab a selection of their parents' fireworks and roam the streets from sunrise to sunset letting them off. It turns the cats (indoor cats, but with excellent hearing) into gibbering wrecks and this year it is ruining the sleep of my son.

Little b*stards.



I'm not normally a violent person but right now I would really like a shotgun.

Help me, I'm stuck!

I've discovered the fly in the ointment with Michael's new trick of rolling over... he gets stuck. It goes like this:

1. I put Michael onto his back in his playpen or under his activity arch
2. Michael rolls over in seconds and in that moment is extremely pleased with himself
3. Michael looks around with interest
4. Michael gets fed up of squashing his dinner and wails to be turned back over
5. I turn him onto his back
6. Repeat to fade

He used to be able to play happily on his back for at least half an hour and until he masters the skill of rolling over and back again, playtime is going to be a very exhausting experience for both Mummy and Baby.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all!

I've finally found the time to write an entry now that Phil's mum, Linda, has returned to England. She came out on Saturday to spend Christmas with us. Michael was exceptionally well-behaved on the day that she arrived and sat peacefully in her arms for quite some time. Unfortunately his teeth started to cause him some upset late in the evening and he was *very* grumpy through Christmas Day and Boxing Day. He wasn't really smiling or making eye contact - he was just dribbling a lot and shoving anything within reach into his mouth.

His bad mood didn't stop him from reaching a new milestone, though. He is now rolling over from his back to his front. Michael is a very nosy baby and doesn't like to spend much time lying down. He prefers to be carried around so that he can have a babble at the bookcases and supervise whatever is going on in the house. He has never wanted to spend any time on his front so I haven't pushed it. I put him down on his back under his activity arch on Christmas Day and before I knew it, he had rolled onto his front and looked for all the world like he was going to crawl off (note to self - buy baby gates!) It was lovely that Linda was here to see it.

Here is a photo of Michael in the outfit I chose for him for Christmas Day. It was supposed to be a Christmas pudding outfit but I abandoned that idea for two reasons. Firstly, it would have been a bit of a squash because he is so long in the body. Secondly, I decided to leave him his dignity (for now!)













Michael is still exclusively breastfed, but we decided to sit him up in his new highchair during Christmas dinner. He quickly caught on with the new toy in front of him. It is a spinning toy with all kinds of whistles and bells to capture his imagination. All he has to do is bash it to make it spin. No problem for Destructo Boy ;o) He has, what we call, his bashing arm. He loves to pump his right arm up and down with quite some force and scatter anything in reach. I'm amazed he hasn't left any bruises! He bashed himself in the eye the other day and is now using his bashing arm a bit more gingerly.




I love this photo. Sadly, it is a bit grainy because of the low light in the living room, but I managed to capture three generations of Gleghorns in the one place and all looking at the camera.










Michael decided to investigate Phil's beer. He doesn't get to sample the contents for a good few years yet! It will probably be round the back of the school bike sheds in 15 years time, drinking something like Merrydown cider...














I suspect that Michael may have decided to start rolling over so that he can watch television... Thus begins a lifetime of being a telly addict.

New blog

I have created a new blog where I can post on topics that are not baby-related. You can find the blog at:
http://cjfogg.blogspot.com

I decided this was necessary after the post on Sir Jimmy Savile that I somehow shoe-horned into Michael's blog.

Tis the season to go ping

Our old Toyota Corolla, named Myrtle, has a fabulous sense of timing. Phil's mum is coming to stay on Saturday and we need to do quite a bit of last minute shopping, so Myrtle has picked this as the perfect time to fall to pieces. She is quite an old car and something big usually breaks during the winter but this year she is heading for the scrap yard.

Phil was on his way home from work in the dark yesterday when the drive belt went as he was going round a roundabout. There were ditches on either side of the road and I'm amazed that he didn't end up in one of them. What if we had been on the motorway doing 120km/h when it had happened?? It doesn't bear thinking about. Myrtle doesn't have tinted windows or air conditioning so is an absolute punishment to drive anywhere in during the summer. So... her time has come. Bye bye Myrtle. This little episode did bring forth some very welcome acts of kindness. Several people helped Phil push the car onto the verge and a lovely gentleman in one of the nearby businesses crossed two roads and a roundabout to bring Phil a cup of coffee while he waited for the breakdown service to arrive. Phil had had to go into this gentleman's shop to ask to use a phone because he had left his mobile at home. He never forgets his mobile so this is another example of Myrtle's fabulous sense of timing.

The garage that the car was towed to is going to examine Myrtle today. There is a good chance that when the drive belt broke, some components in the engine were damaged so we will probably have to get a rental car for the Christmas period.

In baby-related news, Phil got a small taste of what breastfeeding is like yesterday. Michael decided to have an evening where he did little but feed and I briefly passed him over to Phil whilst I did a couple of chores. Quick as you like, Michael latched onto Phil's nose and started sucking furiously. Phil thought it was funny initially but his nose quickly began to suffer from Michael's over-enthusiasm for the task. Matters weren't helped by Michael blowing dribble up Phil's nostrils at the same time. I couldn't locate the camera fast enough to take a picture so this amusing event will have to live only in my memory. Phil tells me that his nose is still sore this morning. Tee hee ;o)

Meme

If you are reading this, ask me four questions -- any four, no matter how personal, private, or absurd. I will try to answer them honestly, or if I can't be honest, I'll try to be funny. In turn, you have to post this message in your own journal and you have to answer the questions that are asked of you.

4 months old

Michael is 4 months old tomorrow so here are his updated statistics:


Age: 3 months, 4 weeks and 1 day old
Weight: 7.635 kg (16.8 pounds)
Length: 66 cm
Head circumference: 41.5 cm
Current temperament: Quietly alert
Current location: Sitting on his Daddy's knee watching Emmerdale.

He had his third set of vaccinations today and, again, got very mad when the nurse jabbed him with the needle. She said "Does he always go that red in the face?". I replied "Only when people are pissing him off..." He has a high pain threshold (like his father) and a low tolerance for being messed around (like his mother). The minute I picked him up after the vaccinations he stopped crying. If only all problems could be solved that easily.

We also had an unexpected trip to see the doctor this afternoon. The nurse at the baby clinic had noticed a lump under the skin above his left eye. It is under his eyebrow and only really noticeable when he cries. The clinic thought that it was simply a fatty lump and nothing to worry about, but we needed to get it checked out with our doctor. The doctor also agreed that it is a fatty lump (proper name is a lipoma). She took the measurements and we have to return in a couple of weeks to determine whether it has grown. There is the possibility that it will stay with him permanently and also that it will grow as he does, but nothing is certain at this point. If it grows then it could disrupt the sight in his eye which is why the doctor needs to keep an eye (no pun intended) on it.

So... my little fat lump has a little fatty lump. I have been affectionately calling him Fester Addams because he has a little head wobbling around on such big shoulders but I think I might call him Lumpy Addams from now on.

Breastfeeding

Since breast milk is Michael's only source of food right now, I think it deserves a mention. Michael and I are now at the stage where breastfeeding is a pleasant experience for both of us - it certainly wasn't the case in the beginning. I had an overabundant milk supply and a fast letdown and poor Michael would practically drown in milk when latching on. Couple this with a greedy little baby who sucks furiously and wants everything RIGHT NOW and there was quite a challenge. As Michael grew, he was more able to cope with the flow and the constant windmill arms and popping on and off the breast finally stopped. I have been very fortunate to have excellent support in the shape of the Borstvoedingscentrum Amsterdam. They have been able to counteract the sometimes misguided advice of the baby clinic (who are constantly trying to get me to feed on a schedule rather than feed on demand - my baby is hungry when he decides he is and not when the clock does).

I am surprised at how my opinion of extended breastfeeding has changed. Before breastfeeding I thought, like most people around me it seems, that extended breastfeeding was abnormal. Now I look at Michael and think - how can it be perfectly acceptable to breastfeed you at 6 months but verging on disgusting to offer you the breast at 18 months?!? The downside to breastfeeding is that I spend altogether too much time on the sofa watching daytime TV. A lady who breastfed her daughter for 7 years featured on a talk show this morning. By this I mean that the child was, of course, eating solid food but occasionally having breast milk in the evenings or for comfort. The lady was exceptionally eloquent but got some pretty horrible remarks such as "disgusting" and "you are only doing this so you will have large breasts, aren't you?". Western society has sexualised breasts to the extent that breastfeeding past the age of 1 now has to be done behind closed doors.

I intend to wean Michael gradually and stop breastfeeding him when he outgrows the need - not when society tells me to.

Filing for bankruptcy

What's that you say, Michael? You've outgrown your 3-6 month clothes? And you want me to go out and buy you a new and expensive 6-9 month wardrobe?

But Michael... you are only 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days old... Child, you will bankrupt me!!