The day I scared my aunty with my bum

Aunty Lyndall decided to help out with a nappy change this morning. I think I scarred her for life! She was already keeping a safe distance from dad as he changed me, and never got close after my spectacular performance. Usually, if I'm going to disgrace myself on the change table I find a well timed wee once my nappy is off is the best way to go, but today I was up for something a bit different. Just as dad was showing Lyndall the way to get the little tabs with the velcro to line up, I gave a push and a lovely toothpaste-like stream of mustardy stuff oozed out everywhere. Ewwww! Aunty Lyndall gave a shriek and ran out of the room leaving dad to deal with me and the stuff all by himself! Laughs all round. I think Aunty Lyndall eventually came back into the room, but I doubt we'll ever convince her to help out with a change again!

Then we went to the shops to buy some nappies, and I managed to do a poo that escaped from under my nappy. I've had issues with wet nappies leaking, but never dirty ones. Fortunately we were in the car by the time it got really bad. My clothes went straight into the nappy bucket, and I went straight into the bath as soon as we stepped inside LLR HQ.

Apart from those two isolated incidents we had a fantastic day. I slept when I was supposed to, played with everyone and almost smiled.

Why real life is better than reality television

Luckily for me our home is not the set of Survivor or I would have been voted off after yesterday's dismal episode. But just to be sure, I decided to be on my best behaviour today.

To kick things off I gave mum and dad a good night's sleep (that always wins a few votes), and I kept my fussing to a minimum all day.

We had to laugh when the paediatrician told us weeks six to ten were the fussy ones, after we'd been told by many people the first six weeks were the fussy ones. I'm sure when we hit week eleven someone will announce babies are at their worst from then!

Grandma came for a quick visit today - it's always nice to see her and have a cuddle. She brought mum's Aunty Wendy, and I met Aunty Lisa for the first time too. It was a real party time at our house today. Much better than reality TV!

Meltdown

How quickly things change. Less than twenty four hours after my very successful visit to the paediatrician I had the worst visit of my life. And it was to the man who helped bring me into the world.

Mum had to go and have a check up with the obstetrician and I came along too. Aunty Lyndall was there for support. And boy did we need some support.

Here are the statements from two witnesses;

"Noah had an unsettled morning, so even in the car he was a bit grumpy. Walking to the doctor's surgery he seemed okay, and he was fairly quiet when we first arrived. However, he soon got a bit grumpy, and loud. His mum whipped him outside the waiting room so he wouldn't disturb everyone in the office. I stayed with the bags in the waiting room. You could still hear a muffled cry in the distance from the rooms, except when the door opened and then it got a lot louder! He eventually came back in, and mum went to her appointment, and I was left, literally, holding the baby. I was thinking, 'work with me here buddy'. At the first sign of a screwed up face I stuck my finger in his mouth, and he was fine. We had a little chat, and when his mum came out we were both quite relieved." Aunty Lyndall.

"Noah had the look of an unstable explosive from the moment we arrived at the doctor's. At the start he looked very tense but managed to get through the introductions with the receptionists. I could see he was working up to something so I stuck my finger in his mouth to keep him quiet, but he wasn't having a bar of it. We went outside and spent the next ten minutes pacing past the different offices, sharing the noise with everyone. We went back into the waiting room and were offerered a quiet room (sort of like a 'time out' area!) to settle him down. They were saying 'does he need to be fed' and I was thinking 'you tell me, you see hundreds of babies every day'. I gave him a feed and handed him over to his aunty. I was a little bit tense and listening out for his familiar cry while I was with the doctor." Mum.

We all survived, but mum was a little embarrassed and quite frazzled when it was all over. The good news is that she was given a clean bill of health, just like I was yesterday.

Do I like paediatricians more than obstetricians? Possibly. But the moral of the story is, yesterday's baby is not today's baby. Sorry mum.

5/40

Today I saw the paediatrician for the first time since I was born.

Mum and dad were hoping my weight was acceptable and with my recent tummy troubles thought there might be a few issues we needed to sort out. We were all given a clean bill of health! The doctor told us not to worry about Mylanta or wind drops, and that I'll get over the refluxy symptoms when I'm good and ready.

Mum was very impressed when I didn't do a wee on the examination table - I was lying completely starkers while the doctor poked and prodded me everywhere, and I mean everywhere! I was happy to see a light on the ceiling, and fixed my gaze on it as the doctor did his thing. The good thing about being into lights is that you can find them everywhere!

Here's the stats that matter;

Weight: 5th percentile
Height: 40th percentile

That means I'm officially long and skinny! The doctor isn't worried, says I should have a weigh-in every week, and that I'm prone to getting hungry.

Next time I see a doctor it'll be for my first round of immunisations, and mum says that'll be a job for dad.

Spewin'

Ah, it's tough being a six week old.

To quote Shakespeare I've been "puking in the nurse's arms"*. But I don't limit it to nurses!

I’ve been vomiting a bit lately. I spewed all over the brand new outfit I was wearing to meet Aunty Lyndall today. I spewed all over the shirt mum was wearing to meet Aunty Lyndall today. And last night dad’s freshly cleaned jumper got a special embellishment too.

I’ve got a knack for swallowing the stuff too.

Yukky!

Mum is probably more worried about my upchucking than I seem to be. We’ve got my six week check up with the paediatrician this week, so he’ll let us know what’s to be done about my regurgitating issues.

* As You Like It - Act 2, Scene 7

Watching grass grow

My fascination with all things window related has taken another step. I'm looking through the windows into the outside world. Mum says I stare so much, and often, that I'm probably enjoying watching the grass grow.

That's a good thing, because today a very special piece of grass poked up through the dirt.

Dad planted a couple of grass trees ('black boys' for anyone born BPCTOOL - 'before political correctness took over our language') on the day I arrived home and they sprouted today. These plants are notoriously slow growing, taking many years to develop the famous trunk, that's why most people buy the harvested ones from the bush. But you can buy seeds, and dad thought it would be a nice thing to plant a tree on the day I was born. We got a bit busy that day, so we did it on the day I got home from hospital. Getting the seeds was an adventure in itself, most nurseries around here didn't have them so two days before I was born dad high-tailed it to Logan to buy a packet. Fortunately I didn't decide to come halfway through his seed buying expedition or mum might have not been so happy about this project.



We've got one for me when I grow up, and one for mum and dad to keep. And a spare. Cool huh?
And on a completely different subject, we posted the thank you cards and letters (some of you lucky ones get a letter - on giraffe paper no less!) today.

And I must welcome my newest second cousin into the world. Hi Rupert! He was nine pounds something - I don't think I'm every going to be able to give any of these little kids my old clothes, cause the little kids are bigger than me!

Farty pizza milk

If I dreamt last night it was probably about milk. You see, I had my first 'dream feed'. Mum has a book that recommends giving a baby a feed during the night while the baby is still sleepy, it's supposed to help me, it could have been better...

In classic Long Lived Rock Headquarters fashion we managed to mess up the fine details of the dream feed plan, it's either supposed to be in the place of the regular feed, or in addition to the regular feed, I can't remember, I was asleep after all! Anyway, whatever the plan is, we did the opposite, and so I woke up and was grumpy and took a long time to settle - all things the dream feed is supposed to stop!

Dad was on baby watch last night, and after the dream feed episode was happy to focus on something else. My gassy butt. Usually if I have a bit of wind or gas I'll screw up my face and kick up my legs and whinge and carry on like the sky is falling, but last night was different. I grunted a lot, squirmed around in silence, and let out amazing noises from my nappy. Think foghorn. Everything would go quiet for a few minutes, and then it would start all over again. Dad had to keep his laughter in check, but seeing I wasn't showing any sign of discomfort, the only thing he was worried aobut was me waking mum with my loud bum.

Some say it's an old wives tale, but if certain foods give grown ups gas, maybe it can be passed onto my milk, and if that happened I'm blaming the super cheesy tomato pizza mum ate last night!

Best behaviour

I was on my best behaviour today. We had visitors. Two sets of them. That means I was doubly good.

Visitors seem to bring out the best in me, and they all seem to think stories of me being hard to get along with are completely off the mark. They read the blog, they hear about my recalcitrant behaviour and when they build up the courage to visit, they are greeted by an angel baby. Maybe it's just my wacky sense of humour, keeping mum and dad on their toes!

It makes mum and dad very proud to see me charming family and friends, but it also makes them wonder if I find it a bit too boring around here when it's just the three of us.

Maybe it's time to bring out the fancy china every day. Or invite more people to visit. Maybe we need to set up some kind of visiting roster, you can clock in, nurse me, admire my wonderful behaviour and then hand me onto the next visitors when the clock stikes.

Not so fast

Dad's been home this week, and it's been a good time for us to learn what a family of three is all about, rather than the family of two that existed long before I showed up. Sometimes people say to dad, 'isn't it good that you're a family now'. Now? He and mum were a family for seven years before I was born. I don't know who decided families had to have more than two members to qualify...Probably comes from the same place the old wives tales we keep hearing come from, but that's another story...

Dad says before I arrived there were a lot more spontanious trips outside. To the beach. To the shops. To dinner.

There were less jobs to be done around the house too. And a lot less clothes to be washed!

He says there was a lot more sleep to be had too!

But in all this busyness, he reckons life has slowed down at the same time. There's more to do, but things can't get rushed.

Dad likes to get jobs done quickly. At the start that included getting me to sleep. A quick pat, a bit of a rock and then out of the room to get back to whatever it was he was doing. But sometimes that's not enough for me. Sometimes I take a good half an hour to get to sleep, and I liked to be patted and held and 'shhh'ed. Sometimes I'll go to sleep straight away, but sometimes i'll skip my afternoon nap altogether. Sometimes I like to drink my milk slowly too. So it's been decided to set our clocks to baby time, which isn't as constant as Greenwich mean-time, or even dad's Fossil watch, sometimes it's more like the doomsday clock!

Sometimes the day won't feel like it's started and it's already afternoon, yet we've already had two feeds and a little sleep, and mum and dad are still in their PJs! Jobs are done while I'm having a nap. That's why there's a lot of half-done jobs around the house at the moment.

Sometimes there's only half thought-out blog entries too!

By the numbers

1 - Times I've seen it rain

2 - Visits to the park.

3 - Football jerseys. Already!

5 - Wondersuits that still fit me.

38 - Days I’ve been outside the womb

277 - Nappies I’ve been through. No, they don’t all have serial numbers that gets scanned and numbered as we go. We simply counted how many boxes I’d been through, and took away the ones in the yet-to-be-finished box . Just thought I better explain in case you thought we were weird. Try it at your house, fun for the whole family!

1380 - Photos dad has taken of me

3770 - My weight in grams today! The health care nurse was quite impressed.

9245 - Words on this blog

The gift of sleep

It's dad's birthday today, and I gave him pretty much the only thing I could, a big sleep last night.

Regular Long Lived Rockers will know I'm not one for big sleeps so mum and dad were very happy to be given five hours of it!

I also gave him a box of jelly beans.

We went to the shops this afternoon. In most shopping trips before I was born mum and dad qould often set off for something for themselves and end up with something for me, today they both got new clothes, and I didn't. Not that I need anything. I'm not yet six weeks old, and I think I've got enough clothes to fit an army of 56cm kiddies. Yes, that's right, 56cm! Dad measured me with the sewing tape, so it might be a little off, but I'm definately not getting any shorter!

So happy birthday dad, I can't guarantee another good sleep tonight, but I'll see what I can do.

Feeling blue

With dad around this week (he was able to take a week off work after mum had to wrangle me all by herself last week) mum had someone to help with the thank you cards! We know it's been a little while and we appreciate all the gift givers for waiting.

Of course, with dad around the chances of us doing some weird project increases. He wanted to try something 'creative' for the cards and it involved my right foot.

"It'll be cool" he said to mum. Oh great, we've all heard that before.

And so before you can say 'let's paint Noah's foot blue and use it to make foot prints on cards' we had a living room full of blue footprints.

Coming to a letterbox soon...

It wasn't all blue feet and thank you cards today, we also went for a walk in the park. I didn't see much but dad tells me they saw all sorts of nice Banksias and Grevilleas in flower. I was too happy being snuggled up against mum in the hug-a-bub. I've spent more time in it than my pram. Mum says it's been quite handy at the shops, not having to push a pram and a trolley around. And she's certainly enjoyed all the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from ladies as they walk past her. "I wish they had those when I had a baby" one lady said, which made mum feel really good. Dad is yet to try it out, he still thinks it's a bit hippyish, but i seem to love it, and you know what they say, happy baby, happy family!

Shhhhhh........

I've been hearing that sound a lot lately.

"Shhhhh"

Turns out going to sleep isn't something that comes naturally to little people like me, so I've got to be taught.

Armed with a new book, mum's been getting me used to falling asleep in my bassinet. Dad's been in on it too. They take 15 minute shifts of holding me and 'shhhh'-ing me. Now, I'd prefer to fall asleep in mum's arms, but that's obviously not an option anymore, so I'm making the best of my cot time.

I'm still a little jumpy - not as much as when I was first born, but I haven't totally lost my startle reflex. Dad will think I've finally nodded off, he'll be about to get up, only to hear me breathe in three quick breaths, open my eyes, and look around the room for a few minutes. Sometimes I'll start to cry and all their work will come undone!

But it's getting better, and it's taking less and less time for me to fall asleep.

"Shhhhh"

The wonder of green

I'm marching forward on my quest to grow up rather than out. More all-in-one suits are being thrown by the wayside as my legs get too long for them. Dad did consider cutting out the feet in a wondersuit or two, but mum said it might be better to buy a bigger size.

So dad trotted off to the shops today to get me some new wondersuits.

Size 00!

Now, we had no trouble getting 0000 and 000 sizes when I was little, but 00 must be THE size to get for babies around here. And blue and white must be THE most popular colours in that most popular size. All dad had to choose from was pink (no, for obvious reasons) and yellow (dad says that's the colour for people who choose not to know the sex of the baby beforehand and seeing we did know I was a boy, it's not allowed) or light minty green.

I'm only little, but even I know blue and green shouldn't be seen without a colour in between, and seeing my grobag is blue, I'm hoping the fshion police don't come by my cot anytime soon!

Who's the dummy?

Here at Long Lived Rock HQ we're dummies when it comes to the humble dummy.

We seemed to think dummys were on the list of 'things a discerning modern day family frowns on', probably because we'd talked to discerning families who frowned on them. Turns out, even though they frown on them, it doesn't stop people using them.

When the nurse came to our house the other day she saw a few dummys in the sterilizer and said something about young babies and dummys, and mum said truthfully, 'oh we haven't used it, we just thought we'd throw it in with everything else to be sterilized'. The nurse didn't seem to buy it. Mum and dad looked at each other sheepishly, and didn't think to ask about when, and when not, to use the little latex sucker thingies.

They did eventually stick one in my mouth. I spat it out.

It was only after I spent a few good hours crying the house down when they thought to bring it out again. It worked for a while, but I soon spat it out.

We've got a few different ones, and the one mum likes the best has a little plastic cover that she says comes in quite handy. It's also got a cute mouse painted on the front, so it's got to be good!

Looking up

There aren't many things in this world I seem to be all that interested in. I've got a little playgym I lie on everyday, it's got dangly little animals hanging from it. I do have a fun time in it, but I'm not getting a lot of value (or should I say mum and dad aren't getting a lot of value) out of it at the moment. And I've got a few educational toys that I'm sure I'll take an interest in soon. But at the moment there's only one thing that grabs my attention.

The blinds in the living room. And the curtains in mum and dad's room. OK, that's two things, but they're pretty much the same thing. Light streaming through window fittings.

Looking up from mum and dad's bed. What could possibly compare with this view?

I stare at the window when I'm playing with dad in the mornings before he goes to work. I stare through the windows when mum has 'play time' with me after a feed. Even when I'm in the loungeroom sitting on the couch with dad, I can usually squirm myself around to see the window.

It all makes sense when you read about baby sight development, but it still makes mum and dad laugh at my first 'obsession'.

One month!

That's right, we're celebrating every possible milestone here at Long Lived Rock HQ. Remember when I was a little baby who couldn't lift his head, and couldn't get the hang of feeding? Dad can even remember further back when nightly sleeps were eight hours. My, how far we've come...

I've been testing out my voice of late. Learning a few new sounds. I still mostly cry, but every now and then mum and dad hear a 'coo' or a 'boo'. These new noises are sometimes accompanied by a few, as dad calls them, 'pre smiles'. I haven't done a proper smile yet, the only time I've really 'smiled' is when I've done a big poo two seconds later. So we're not allowed to count that! But I'm testing out all my facial expressions, and every now and then dad says he can see what it'll be like when I do smile. He and mum are both excited...

There's also a bit of excitement due to the fact mum and dad think they've finally gotten rid of a squatter. I have been getting into a couple of bad habits lately, the chief one being only sleeping if I'm wrapped in mum's arms, or draped all over her chest. As comfortable as it is, they've told me not to get used to it, and I've been spending a lot more time in my usual place of residence. In fact, today was the first day I went to sleep in my cot. Usually wake up to find myself in the cot after falling asleep with mum.

I've also had a bit of wind and gas. I'll tell you more about it later, it's still too much of a sore point right now!

Sharing wisdom

"Oh, he's so little"

I'm getting used to hearing that. Today it was from a lady mum and I went to visit. She's from church and has her own informal mum's club. She and mum talked about all sorts of baby related things, and after a long morning of talking and consulting books, mum came away armed with a few new techniques for dealing with me and my many moods.

Mum said it was encouraging to talk to another young mum, and found out she's not the only one who feels as if she's having to figure it all out one day at a time. It's good to know there's always people to help and lend an ear, and a friendly word of advice.

We got the news of another family baby today. Dad's cousin and his wife had a baby girl. She was huge! Announced at 8 pounds 13. I have no idea what that is in proper measurements, but even I know it's a lot more than my launch weight of six-and-a-bit pounds. In fact, I don't even know if I've hit that weight after almost a month! Goodness me. So much for providing hand-me-downs!

Like a grown up

Most of the things I do are babylike. That's not surprising since I am a baby. My cries. The way I move my arms and legs about. My moods. But mum and dad have noticed a couple of things I do that are just the way growns ups do them;

Burps. I often need a little help with this, but sometimes I let out a belch that would make dad proud.

Farts. Most of the time they accompany a filled nappy, but sometimes I let one rip all by itself, and boy can I make them loud! No SBDs around here.

Hiccups. Unfortunately I'm getting the hiccups quite regularly. Mum says she remembers me having them in the womb. It's a habit my parents would like me to kick becasue I look so uncomfortable. Mum says I even woke myself up with the hiccups this afternoon. Sometimes my hiccups are silent, but sometimes the 'hic' is so pronounced dad thinks we should stop at a police RBT unit to see what's been in my bottle!

Sport

We watched a bit of the V8s today. Dad bought a Ford Racing jumpsuit a couple of years back, in anticipation of having a little mate to watch the cars with. He thought the first race since I've been alive was the perfect time for me to try it on. It's still a bit big for me, but it's got a nice lot of winter padding.

I wasn't too happy Skaifey won!

The race was a bit boring, and I found the lights streaming through the blinds in the loungeroom a lot more interesting.

I didn't sleep much last night so mum dad and I all got up quite late. Thank goodness it was a public holiday! We had breakfast around 11 and lunch at 3pm. Dad says days seem to disappear when I'm on the scene. But we had some really nice times today hanging out.

Barbecues and blackholes

I went to my first barbecue today.

Mum was a little apprehensive at first, and she had good reason to be, I haven't been a picture of serenity this past week, but today I was in a mood fit for royalty, and charmed everyone I met.

Mum talked to a couple of different mums and they offered her lots of encouragement, and even some advice. That might sound stange, but in my four weeks of living we've discovered advice can sometimes come in quite unencouraging ways.

Dad has come to the conclusion that everyone knows 'everything' when it comes to babies, and will certainly let you know what you're doing wrong. He says it's amazing what people will say you should and shouldn't do.

If we took all the advice we've been given, because it's often contradictory, we'd probably open up some kind of weird blackhole and get sucked into it!

Anyway, the barbecue was good, I slept most of the time in mum's arms after being put in my travel bassinet in the study for a few minutes. Maybe it was too quiet in there for me to get to sleep because I got a bit whingy and poor old dad thought it was going to be the shortest visit in history (remember our first trip to church?), but when I came out to where all the adults were I slept in mums arms for hours. I guess I like to be where the action is. And close to mum!

You want to collect my what?

Because of my carry on this week, mum talked to the paediatrician and he's going to take a look at my wee and see if it tells him anything. They want to rule out a urinary tract infection.

That means dad had to collect some. Now, it’s tricky enough collecting your own in the little jar they give you. Collecting it from someone else, who happens to be tiny, can't control himself, and can't let you know when he needs to go makes for a very interesting morning!

The first opportunity to get it this morning in the wee (ha ha ha) small hours was missed, because mum had the jar in one room, and I was busy relieving myself in a different room, and I wasn't planning on holding on until dad found it. So we had to try a couple of hours later.

I hear some babies enjoy 'free time' on their change table without their nappy on. Not me. I can’t see any fun in lying on a table in the nude on a cold winter day, mum hovering above me with a specimen jar. They tried all sorts of things to make me wee on command. Nothing worked. I wee when I'm good and ready.

So just as mum decided we’d try again a bit later, I felt relaxed enough to go.

Success!

All of this business obviously got me thinking, so I've been on my best behaviour today. I've fed when I've been supposed to, and slept as well. Hopefully my wee is bevahing itself and it, and I, will get the doctor's seal of approval.

Baby Jekyll and Mrs Hyde

It's the same story, no sleeping baby and a very sleep deprived mum.

On a much brighter note we've got a huge amount of rissoles in the freezer thanks to grandma who came and stayed this week. We've only had rissoles once at Long Lived Rock HQ and they didn't turn out very well, so six years later dad says it's good to have them in the house again!

You know what would go well with Rissoles? A big serving of sleep!

In the nick of time

Mood: Irritable

Maybe it had something to do with the weather, or maybe it had something to do with mum mentioning the dreaded 'f' word (formula). Whatever it was worked, because I impressed the hard old nurses at the weigh station with a 290g addition to my manly frame. I am now weighing in at a quite respectable 3340 grams. Yes, I am very well aware some babies are born bigger than I am after three and a bit weeks, but hey, we're all different, and I'm in no rush to don one of those sumo wrestler nappy things*.

I've continued my growth spurt. Mum reckons if I stretch out my arms and legs at the same time I can touch both ends of my bassinet. Looks like dad will need to build my cot sooner rather than later. I hope grandad is plannning a trip down here soon, cause I'm not too confident in dad's ability to build me my sleeping recepticle all by himself!

Because I've ditched my daily sleeps mum hasn't had a free moment to herself lately, she has a list of things to do which includes 'write thank you cards'. So if you've sent me something and haven't been given a proper thank-you, rest assured there is a list with your name on it and card waiting with a stamp...If I don't sleep tomorrow it looks like dad might get the gig over the weekend, so watch those mailboxes early next week.

* It's really called a mawashi, but it looks like a nappy to me, and trust me, I know nappies!

Raindrops did fall on my head

There was an unfamiliar sound on the roof this morning.

Rain.

Dad and I went outside and inspected it. He explained the rain came from clouds, and makes the grass grow and that means he has to get the lawn mower and cut the grass and that I'll appreciate it when I start to run around a freshly cut lawn.

We did lean out from under the patio roof for a few seconds when mum wasn't looking and I got a few spots on my face. I blinked in surprise, but didn't cry.

I've developed a bit of a habit of sleeping on the job. I really only have one job, and that's to bulk up, especially as I arrived on the scene a little light. But halfway through feeds I'm nodding off, and need a bit of a prod to keep going. Just as well I'm not eating soup! I've ditched my regular daytime sleeps, which means mum hasn't been able to get any rest. It's been a tough couple of days for mum, I've slept on and off in her arms, but everytime I go down into my bassinet, I whinge. At least on the days I've been grumpy I've slept well at night. Dad says that's a very good thing because otherwise our house would resemble one of those crazy haunted ones you see down sideshow alley complete with bloodshot-eyed, zombie creatures roaming about in a daze.

Movin' on up

Another milestone!

I've outgrown my first piece of clothing.

Less than twenty four hours after writing about my vespa dog suit, I tried it on this morning, and I couldn't fit my legs in. This makes me happy I'm growing, but sad I won't be able to wear those duds anymore.

Rest in peace Vespa dog!

I'm not so sure the nurse at the weigh-station will be all that impressed. I was born long and skinny (wonder where I got that from!) and now I'm getting longer, but not fatter. And I've been in trouble before for not putting on a lot of weight. It's a bit silly really, mum gets quite upset when the nurse grumbles about me not being heavy enough, and that makes mum feel like a neglectful mother. Can't the nurse see I'm growing up before I grow out? And has she ever taken a look at dad who never grew out?

Anyway, all of that must have been on my mind today because I didn't manage to get much sleep, which meant mum didn't get much sleep. Everyone was grumpy when dad got home. So I had a feed, and mum plonked me in the hug-a-bub and I fell off to sleep, but as soon as she pulled me out I carried on as if I was being born all over again! More grumpiness. Dad sat me down and we listened to a bit of music, but even that couldn't soothe away my grumps. The pediatrician said babies my age can be moody up until six weeks - so I'm halfway there. Hope we all make it!

Don’t believe what you see (Fashion #2)

Baby clothes are a whole different planet in the fashion universe. Not simply scaled down version of what adults wear, we are forced into duds with cutesy motifs. We’ve been looking at the clothes I’ve got in the cupboard, and the general consensus is that they’re full of factual errors.

Here’s three things dad has pulled out for your perusal;




Bear and Bunny. Notice the bear and bunny holding hands. Now forgive if I’m wrong, but I’m sure if a bear came across a bunny in real life, there wouldn’t be a lot of hand holding. Flying fur and lunch for the bear, yes. Holding hands, no.

Dog riding Vespa - Unless it’s some kind of weird ‘planet of the dogs’ alternate universe, dogs don’t ride motorbikes, not even cool little scooters. Maybe a dog chasing a scooter, or a dog sitting next to a scooter. Even a dog lifting his leg on the scooter's wheel. These are things we can believe. To the maker's credit the dog is wearing a helmet, that's a good example. But he's doing a wheelie and that's not something you want little babies to be trying. And he's not wearing any shoes, and even I know you're supposed to wear sensible shoes when riding motorbikes.

Wriggly bug club - Ants and caterpillars smiling. I’m not so sure ants and caterpillars are friends. Dad’s seen ants eating caterpillars, so who decided they should be in a club? What do they do in the club? Is it a charity, or one of those outlaw bikie clubs. And if it was an outlaw bikie ant and caterpillar club, would a dog on a vespa be able to join?

The bottom line is, baby clothes aren’t very educational.

Four wheelin'

Mum, dad and I went to the park today. They decided it was about time I saw the world outside, and I think they were itching to go for a walk themselves, like they used to before I took over the household three weeks ago.

I saw some trees and met a couple of lorikeets eating nectar from grevillea flowers. A few fish splashed about in the canal and gave us a bit of a fright (gave dad a fright, I should say, I played it cool)

I seem to enjoy my pram, the only other time I'd ever ridden in it was to and from the car on our first trip to church. Today we went a lot further, and over a lot more bumps! It's a four wheeler. Now, you see a lot of three wheeler prams about these days. Jogger prams they call them. But we've never seen anyone actually jogging with them. Sort of like 4WD cars in the city, you can go off road in them, but who does? But if four wheels are good enough for formula one cars, they are good enough for me.

Dad took pram buying seriously. He spent time on messageboards, kicked a lot of (small) tyres. He didn't want an ugly pram. But we couldn't really justify getting the Mercedes of prams, a bugaboo. We ended up with a middle-of-the-road model. It goes well, and went fast for a few brief seconds before dad got scolded! One day we'll go out without mum, and we'll go fast! Zoom zoom!

On giraffes

Dad once noticed that you don't have to look far to find a certain long necked animal printed, sewn, stapled, glued or drawn on any number of baby related products. The first present I received in the mail was a toy giraffe. The second present I received in the mail was another toy giraffe. I'm telling the truth.

There must be something that makes this African even-toed ungulate mammal 'baby friendly'. I don't understand it, but I'm just glad it's not dolphins. Dad says giraffes are much better than dolphins, and would beat them in a fight, especially if it was on land.

Anyway, with a name like mine there's a good chance I'll exceed the average baby/giraffe ratio. You've already seen the wall decorations dad made me. Giraffes! I've got a Noah's Ark dinner set and the main animals are...Giraffes.

Giraffes are obviously my thing. At first dad thought it was funny, now he's become a giraffe fan too. He's always on the lookout for more giraffes. I had a visit from Ben and Michelle today, and they gave me a very spiffy romper set (designer brand!) and guess what animal was sewn into the leg! Dad was impressed.

Did you know a male giraffe is called a bull? You don't see many bulls on baby clothes.

Oh, and on a completely different subject, I seem to have overcome my fear of baths today.

When two worlds collide

I can really pick my days. Grandma came to stay for five nights and help mum with all sorts of things around the house. I was on my best behaviour. She left today. So did my best behaviour.

I was a little grizzly last night but shifted up a gear around 1am. I've got a few new cries in my repertoire and I tested them all out. My special, only to be brought out in extreme cases, cry - known around Long Lived Rock HQ as 'The Laaaa" was working overtime. I squirmed and kicked and wailed. And wailed.

I wouldn't feed properly, and I wasn't having a bar of anything mum would do to help. By 4 o'clock dad was on the scene, he tried to get some sleep because he goes to work, but I didn't care, I needed all the cavalry on this one. Grandma arrived at 5. They all got me sorted for about half an hour, but I had something distressing me, and of course only being a two week old don't have the skills to explain what it was.

Dad went to work, Grandma went home, and I went to town. No sleep until after lunch, and then I decided to have power feeds. Mum read somewhere that babies my age will have a few growth spurts. I had mine the day after a huge night. So poor old mum had next to no sleep last night, and now had me feeding for an hour, sleeping for half an hour, and then demanding another feed.

I finally went down just before dad got home. Tomorrow I might wake up huge!