Bubble bath

Today I did something I think will keep me entertained for many years, if dad's reaction is anything to go by.

I made bubbles in the bath.

With my butt.

Fortunately bubbles were the only thing that came out, and this made for much merriment at LLR HQ.

Over the past couple of days I've learned while poos on the way to church are not at all popular, farts in the bath are more than acceptable. So much to learn...

I don't feel so good

I woke up vomiting last night. This wasn't your average vomit but a super dooper one. Mum cleaned me up, started to give me a little feed, and I gave another big heave. I was starting to look a bit pale, and I was very quiet.

So mum called the 24 hour health helpline, and they advised us to go to the hospital. So we did. At 2am.

We were met by a very nice nurse who gave me a once over, and then the doctor came in and gave me another once over (does that make it a twice over?). He said we had to wait for a couple of hours to make sure I didn't show any symptoms of nasty things, so we waited in a room. we had a room to ourselves, and there was a bed in the corner, so we all piled into it and had a bit of a rest. When the doctor came back I was feeling better and we were sent home. We arrived just before daybreak.

I woke up a couple of hours later full of beans. Mum and dad didn't!

They don't know what gave me an upset tummy, but everyone's happy I'm back to normal.

Colonel Mustard and the fateful trip to church

Or...Pride cometh before a big poo

Mum and dad were commenting on how cool I looked as they dressed me for church today. I had on my designer overalls Ben and Michelle gave me, teamed with a stripey shirt and my Volleys. 'He'll easily be the best looking baby at church' dad thought to himself, 'probably the best looking baby ever'.

We were making good time, we pulled up at church a full three minutes before the service. And then mum discovered something. Something a bit smelly. Something had leaked right through my singlet, stripey shirt, and through my designer overalls. Something smelled baddddd!

We've had little accidents before, but this one takes the cake. We all got in the backseat, laid out the travelling change mat and fumbled around the nappy bag for all the necessary bum cleaning equipment. "Don't get it on the car seat", "Look out for his bottom", "How did it get up his arms?", "What do I do with the pooey clothes?","Where'd his socks go?".

We were late finding a pew, me in my not quite uber cool, but still very patriotic, green and gold all-in-one suit!

Boys are back in town

Being a Saturday, dad was home today. So I had an audience for some of my latest tricks which include holding my head up on my playmat. We don't have any photographic evidence of this amazing feat, but rest assured it was very impressive.

With dad at home, mum had a chance to go out and have a bit of quiet time at the shops. That meant the lads were left to their own devices! In the past this hasn't worked too well, but I was on my best behaviour today. I played when I was supposed to, and slept when I was supposed to.

So it's the end of the day, mum's happy cause she had a facial, dad's happy because I didn't cry the whole afternoon, and I'm happy because I've got a full tummy and a clean nappy.

Close to my chest

I've developed a new habit of screwing my hands into fists and locking them close to my chest when I'm on the change table and when I'm in the bath. I won't budge, and it's quite tricky getting me in and out of my duds when my arms won't move.

Mum and dad aren't sure if it's because I'm a bit cold, or a bit insecure, or if I just think it's cool.

Last night I slept for a record eight hours straight!

I woke up with a very heavy nappy, and as dad was changing me I let out the saddest cry he's ever heard. Mum heard it too and had to come into the change room (aka my bedroom - not that I sleep in my bedroom, I still sleep in mum and dad's room, but that'll change very soon when I graduate from the bassinett, but that's a whole other matter we'll discuss another day) to see what all the commotion was about. I settled down quickly, but mum and dad say they never want to hear such a sad cry again.

Dribble

Mum and dad are getting about with damp shoulders.

I've started to dribble.

Sometimes I blow little bubbles, but mainly I just let it slide down my chin.

I still like to 'chew' on collars too.

My routine is still working, and I'm even learning to put myself to sleep without lots of shushing and patting.

PS I'm not feeling lonely anymore!

Routine

One minute I was enjoying the anything goes, laissez-faire enviroment I had grown accustomed to during the past ten weeks. I could sleep when I felt like, feed when I felt like, and generally done what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.

Not anymore.

It's almost as if my idyllic little paradise has been overthrown by a timetable wielding warlord. But mum's too lovely to call a 'warlord'!

They say babies need routine, so now was as good as time as any, and mum's got a book by the 'baby whisperer' - not the one who's figured out babies cry when they're hungry or uncomfortable or need to burp, the one who wrote books about shushing and patting (and lots of other stufff, but the bit I usually see is the shushing and patting!)

And I'm back on the QV oil for my bath - it helps my hair stick up better!

Arrrgablurr

Sometimes when I communicate with mum and dad I stop crying and start to vocalise. I've discovered my voice in the past week or so and my favourite thing to say is 'Arrrgablurr'.

Nobody seems to know what it means, but I say it when I'm not unhappy if that's any clue.

I also coo and sigh and grunt.

Sometimes the 'grunts' come out of both ends at the same time!

Splish splash

Bath time is a special time at Long Lived Rock HQ these days.

It's a family event. Mum holds me and dad is chief scrubber.

I've gone from tolerating baths to almost enjoying them.

I've been having baths closer to bedtime, and we've swapped the QV oil for a 'bedtime' concoction. It's supposed to relax me for sleeping.

Mum even gave me a massage after my bath with special 'sleepy baby lotion'. I seemed to love the massage, but no conclusive evidence yet that the stuff has helped me fall asleep.

Mum and I went for a big walk to the shops today. We took a short cut and got a bit lost! But I wasn't worried, I was enjoying my new-look sitting-up pram, well, while I wasn't fast asleep, which was actually most of the trip.

Smiley smile

I kept mum and dad up during the night, that's not really newsworthy. What is newsworthy is what I accompanied the keeping up with.

I smiled!

It's amazing what a simple smile can do; make parents forget their grumpiness at waking up after not enought sleep, for one.

I've got a couple of smiles, a big open mouthed one that's usally accompanied by a little 'he he' laugh, and a big non-toothy grin. These smiles are usually aimed at my beloved curtains, but sometimes I've been known to flash them at a person. They say little girls are interested in people, and little boys are interested in things. I can confirm that theory.

Anyway, my performance in the wee small hours was met with much excitement and everyone's hoping it's one habit I keep.

The other habit I've been gettin into is pooing around my nappy and onto my clothes. But that's not much fun to talk about, and even less fun to clean up! Fortunately this is one little trick I've only been able to accomplish while in the comfort of our home.

Of Volleys and upgraded prams

I love weekends. I think mum does too. It means dad is home to help out!

It also means we get to do fun stuff like go to the beach.

I have been to the beach before, but that doesn't really count, as I was asleep. Today dad and I went right down to the water, and I was awake the whole time to enjoy it. We didn't go in for a swim, and considering yesterday was the coldest day for a long time, I think that was a good idea. Swimming is out of the question for a few more months. And besides, I don't have any togs yet!

I do have a pair of shoes and I wore them for the very first time today. Like all good Aussie kids I own a pair of Volleys. The world's smallest pair of Volleys. Dad says I look very cool in them.

And today I swapped the bassinet part of my pram for the chair attachment part of my pram. Walks are even more fun now, I can see a lot more. Soon the bassinet will have to be retired for good, it's the same bassinet I sleep in, mum and dad take it off the pram and put it in the bedroom, it saved us buying a separate bassinet. My cot is waiting for me in my room, and one day soon I'll be turfed out of mum and dad's room and into my own. I wonder how well that's going to go down...

Global warming

It was cold today. Coldest day I've ever lived through. In fact, it was the coldest day around here for about fifty years. So we went with layers.

I wore my Nundle woolen sock-booty things over my wondersuit and Anita's crocodile jumper over my top (it's still too big for me, but mum rolled up the sleeves, and kept the hood off, and it fitted reasonably well).

And to think scientists are worried about global warming! They're obviously not being taken into a cold room in the middle of the night, plonked on a change table, and having a cold wet baby wipe smeared all over their rear ends.

More weight

Another week, another 220 grams.

That's the exact weight of a small can of baked beans, 'nature's super food'. And there's someone who's super happy I'm getting heavier.

Mum was telling dad it's hard to measure a successful day when she's at home. When she was working it was quite easy to measure success, but at home with me it's quite different. But there's one thing she can measure, and that's my weight. And the more I grow, the happier she is.

Mum says I'm the best behaved baby at the weigh-in centre, even when I'm sitting on the cold scales completely nude! I have to get weighed nude so they can measure my weight precisely, some fat babies get to keep their nappies on, not skinny me!

Stay close

Last night I found it hard to get to sleep. I would only stop crying if I was being held by mum or dad. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't gassy. I think I may have been a little lonely.

I'd wake up and dad would pick me up and settle me back to sleep in his arms. He'd put me back in my bassinet and I'd wake up, and we'd go through the whole process again. After three or four of these episodes (it's hard to keep an accurate count at two o'clock in the morning) dad tried lying in bed with me draped over his tummy. I went out like a light. Unfortunately, with a baby lying on top of him, dad didn't get a very good sleep, so he woke up mum at about four and she let me lie spread eagle on her tummy.

In the morning I woke up full of beans, cooing and ahhing, mum and dad didn't!

What on earth was that all about?

Today started like the other 64 days I've been alive. I woke up, I had a feed, I got changed, we had a bit of a play. Buut none of the other days had the bit where a lady jabs me on the leg with a sharp needle!

I should have known something was up when I got a lot more cuddles than usual when I woke up. Dad and I had a great time playing, and he stayed at home longer than he usually does (another clue), then we went for a ride in the car, and it was only 9 o'clock. I was thinking this day couldn't get any better.

I was right.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three injections.

I wailed. Mum cried. Even dad had a tear in his eye as he watched me get my vaccinations. Sure, they told me it was for my own good, but they weren't the ones getting stabbed in the leg! They got flu shots in their arms. I gave dad a look that was half 'owww!' and half 'get me outta here dad!', but he didn't. He couldn't. He felt terrible that I didn't understand what was going on.

So we all came home nursing aching bits, and the doctor told mum to be prepared for a grumpy baby. I fell asleep not long after the ordeal ended. I was already tired, and all the crying made me lose energy. When I woke up three hours later, I put on a brave face and played with mum. She gave me some nice comfort feeds, and we had a really good day. No whinging, no fevers, I'm back to normal.

Mum and dad think I'm very brave. And I think I have to be, there's more injections in a few weeks' time...

Running on my own schedule

When it comes to falling asleep and waking up, I'd rather be doing the opposite.

At bedtime I'll often try and keep my eyes open, even if I'm dog tired. I'll fight with every last ounce of wakeness not to go to sleep.

Then, when it's time to wake up for a feed, I'll happily sleep for an extra hour. When the clock gets close to my feed time mum will sometimes come into the room and open drawers loudly and sort out the washing, maybe keep the door open and vacuum the hallway, all to help me wake up, and to clean the house too.

I've been having some really good days lately, grandma and grandad gave me a couple of extra faces to look at, and a few extra cuddles too.

Mum and dad told me tomorrow I have to have my first injections. They're not looking forward to it, but thankfully I have no idea what they're talking about...

Thank you Sweden

Dad and Grandad built my cot today.

Twice.

They learned a couple of things. The Swedes make good stuff, and their doorways are obviously wider than ours.

After unpacking and laying out all the parts in the loungeroom, they put it together. It was quite easy, as you would expect, grandad has build aeroplanes and boats, so a baby cot was never going to be too much of a challenge. His assistant has flown in aeroplanes and sailed in boats, so they were always going to be fine. Until it came time to get the cot into my bedroom. They soon discovered the little issue of the little doorway. So, the cot was disassembled and reassembled in as much time as it takes to say 'gee the doorway looks a lot narrower with a big fat Swedish cot next to it'.

Needless to say, if you've got some Swedish furniture to put together, call on dad and grandad, they've had twice as much experience as they should have.

A slow day is a good day

Around here it's the crazy days that make for the most entertaining reading, but they're not the most fun to live through. That's why today has been good and bad. Good, because I behaved myself all day, impressing the visitors who came for tea. Bad, because there's nothing juicy to write about.

I'm two months old today, and have started to take more interest in people. Sure, the baby milestone lists say I should have been smiling at people since week five, but I'm pretty selective at what (usually a what, and not a who!) I smile for, and if I do smile at someone it's because they've had to put a lot of work in for it. Unless they happen to be grandma, she gets them at the drop of a hat.

So as I pass another milestone (the second month, not the smiling) it's good to look back on my first sixty odd days. They've certainly been odd, but we're all learning and getting used to one another here at LLR HQ, and having the time of our lives, especially on slow news days!

Better out than in

I did my first projectile vomit today. Just as mum and I were about to go out to the shops. Brilliant timing, as usual.

But that wasn't the most memorable event of the day. That honour would go to what I did when we got home.

If an award was given for the world’s most impressive poo I’d have to be in with a shot at the title. Regular Rockers will recall some memorable ones in the past, but this one was the bomb. It filled my nappy, spilled out onto my blue romper and - here’s the impressive part - got all over mum’s t-shirt. Her wonder woman shirt. I wonder what she's going to wear next? Boom tish!

Yes it was yukky, but they say 'better out than in', and it could have been a lot worse, it could have happened when we were out shopping. That's not even worth thinking about...

It's spelt "C, R, Why?"

Dad and I had our second afternoon together, and it was much better than the first. If, by much better, you mean the cries were louder and longer.

Mum went out to the shops and just like the other day, I waited patiently for her to leave before I went into overdrive.

Dad tried everything. Again. To no avail. The bottle of expressed milk was frozen, and just like old Murphy would predict, only finished thawing by the time mum got home. But mum tried to feed me when she got home, and I wasn't really hungry, so we'll never really know what made me blow my fuse. But it was quite spectacular.

Later on I snuggled up to dad in the loungeroom and we had a great time oohing and aaahing at the curtains. Praise the Lord for short attention spans.

Customising

It's cool to customise things these days. Hot rods, motorbikes, gardens, clothes. Dad didn't stop with the maroon singlet for State of Origin. He and grandma got out the sewing machine the other day and created a custom, one off singlet just for me.

The fact dad had never used a sewing machine before did not deter him, in fact he's got visions of making more and more of these things. Not just for me, but for other babies. Goodness me.

The haute couture houses have nothing to worry about*, it's quite obvious dad's school made a huge blunder when they didn't offer home economics for the boys. But he hasn't let a poor education stop him, he's always grabbing this little singlet out of my cupboard and showing visitors.

*At the moment (dad insisted I put that bit in)

Baby you can drive my car

I love riding in the car.

I often fall asleep before we turn out of our street, but sometimes i'll stay awake long enough to see the world zip by.

One thing I really don't like about car rides is red lights. I grizzle when we stop. Dad does too. We both hate red lights.

I went for a big ride of a different kind today - mum and I went for a walk in the hug-a-bub all the way to the local shops - and they're a long way away - longer than mum thought! But we had a really good time, I stayed asleep the whole time, and mum enjoyed getting some fresh air, and getting a bit of exercise.

Rockin'

They say presents can't win affection. They obviously never got a vibrating rocker from their aunty!

It's my first chair, and it's pretty nifty.

The first thing we noticed at the baby chair shop is that you can't buy simple, good old fashioned bouncernets (is that what we used to call them?), these days they're space aged thingies with waterfall sounds and massage pads!

Mine converts to a chair for toddlers, and can vibrate at the touch of a button.

Mum says it's come in quite handy when she's been busy in the kitchen, she just plonks me in it, does up the seatbelt, flicks the switch, and it's just like I'm having a ride in the car!

It's even got a couple of built in toy animals that swing from a plastic arm. One of them, a cute little cat, plays a tune when you pull down on the handle. We tried it once, and it made such an awful noise ('tune' is way too kind, it's more like the sound of a cat being strangled after inhaling helium) we think we'll never pull the cord again, and if I take a liking to it, dad has threatened to strangle the plastic little cat.

Let's go to church (take two)

We plucked up the courage to venture back to church again. It's been a couple of weeks since my first trip.

Always surprising, I decided to be on my best behaviour during the whole service, a huge relief to mum. I think she spent most of the service praying. That I'd stay quiet!

I was even relaxed enough to have a cuddle with some of the ladies after the service. Mum said it was good to catch up with some of the other mums too.

Just the two of us

I'm supposed to be writing about a wonderful afternoon dad and I had as out first father and son adventure. But seeing this is not a work of fiction, I better tell you what really happened.

Mum went off to the shops and after a briefing that would make an army general proud, dad was armed with a bottle and a bib and sent onto the frontline.

I battled most of the afternoon. I wasn't really hungry, and even though I was tired, I chose not to sleep, I decided to cry and cry.

I think dad had visions of us doing blokey things the first time we were left on our own. you know, talk cars and footy. But we spent most of the afternoon at the cot, trying to get some sleep.

Of all the scenarios mum gave dad, the one with me not sleeping at all didn't rate a mention.

Dad went through the 'grumble list', a change of nappy, a burp and some milk from the bottle, but nothing seemed to work. He picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, and I fell asleep. Maybe I just wanted a cuddle!

Mum came home to find us sitting on the couch watching the footy.

After a few days of long sleeps I've reverted to the days of only napping for two hours at a time. This has not met with the same approval as the longer sleeps.

Slurpee machine

At the moment I'm more of a fist slurper than a thumbsucker.

Every now and then my hands will zoom past my face and I do my best to catch them in my mouth, but it's pretty tricky, they're attached to arms that seem to have a mind of their own!

The other day dad watched me as I studied my hand, and stuck my thumb out as far as I could (which isn't very far - all my fingers sort of move together), slowly edged it closer and closer to my face, and just as I was oh so close to my mouth, I moved quickly, overshot, and stuck it up my nose!

I'm still no real fan of my dummy, I will use it every now and then when I'm trying to get to sleep, but not all the time. The thing I do love sucking on is collars. And it doesn't have to be mine either, any collar will do, so if you ever pick me up, you've been warned!

Two bottles of milk

That's how much I weigh. Four kilograms.

Mum took to the weigh station today and I was a lot better behaved than the baby next to me! He wailed and wailed while I sat peacefully while mum plonked me on the scales. I did spend a few seconds letting out a sympathy cry for him, but quickly snapped out of it.

I had a bit of an accident with my clothes today. I hadn't done a good sized poo for a day or so and so today I did a big one which was a bit too big for my nappy! Mum says it was a '5 wipe poo'. That's how many baby wipes it took to clean me up. It usually takes one or two.

I was wearing a 'onesie' which became an innocent victim, it's soaking in nappy san as we speak. The problem with those kind of suits is that they go on like a t-shirt, over your head, and if you've done a leaky poo it has to come off, and it has to come off over your head, and it's a bit tricky not to get said poo in your hair as you take it off! Fortunately mum was skilful enough to get me out of it and keep me clean.

Homemade

Checking the mail today was exciting, I scored a brand new hand knitted maroon jumper made by Grandma G. Thank you!

Just in time for tonight's State of Origin game! Dad and I plonked ourselves on the couch in our maroon duds and cheered on Queensland. I went to bed early, can't last the 80 minutes just yet!

Good thing I went to bed early, I think I may have cried when I saw the score.

Speaking of homemade things, looks like I'll be strutting my stuff in more of dad's creations soon. I don't think I've told you all about his sewing adventures, that's a story for another day. Dad went to the fabric shop today, and brought home a mountain of material to sew. The fact he doesn't really know what he's doing with the sewing machine has slowed him down.

Another day of firsts

Being quite new to this planet, there's always a good chance to try something completely new each day.

I went to the beach. Not that I even noticed, I was snugggled up fast alseep in my hug-a-bub while mum and grandma and grandad went for a walk on the sand. Next time I go to the beach I hope that I'll be awake, and that'll it'll be summer - because at the moment it's way too cold to go anywhere near the water!

Dad and I played computer games for the first time today too. I sat on his tummy as he raced cars. I was dubbed the 'navigator', but I don't think I really helped, especially when I threw my head over his arm and flopped onto my face. He said those types of lunges might not only hurt me, they might hurt our chances of winning the race by distracting the driver!

Attack of the clone

People love to look for resemblances. You know, 'oh he looks just like Aunt Edna's next door neighbour's cousin when he was a baby'

I've been told I look like all manner of people, fictional and real, but there are a few things we've noticed that bear an uncanny resemblance to my two parents. Of course, that's not much of a surprise is it?

People often say 'oh he looks like his dad', which makes dad smile, because they usually go on to say that I'm cute and adorable, and he thinks that means he's cute and adorable too!

We have found a couple of body parts that share traits with those of the older models;

Notice the two toes that don't go all the way to the bottom. Mum has them. And so do I. I'm hoping it'll help me be a good swimmer!


You've probably noticed it already in previous photos. I have a very high forehead. Some people have even used the word 'receding' but that's not really fair. It hasn't receded from anywhere, that's where it started! Dad has exactly the same thing. He also had quite dark hair when he was born, which went blonde and then turned dark again. Mum had dark hair when she was a baby too. So there was always going to be a good chance I was going to be a brunette.

Mum and dad would laugh before I was born when thinking of what my nose could end up looking like. Mum's got a long one, and dad's got a wide one. They hoped I wouldn't end up with a long, wide one! I've ended up with a short stubby one, just like most babies, but I fear there's a little bit too much stubbyness, just like dad's!

No matter where I got these bits and pieces from, I'm just glad they've all ended up in the right place, and it must be all good, I'm 'cute and adorable' remember?

Changing habits, changing lives

My latest habit is sleep. And boy is that popular around here.

I set a record last night, seven and a half hours! I slept and slept, and so did mum and dad until my tummy let me know I had to wake up.

I had quite an appetite, and dad says it was the heaviest nappy he'd ever taken off me.

I don't know how long I'll keep this sleeping caper up, but it makes for a much more with-it house, that's for sure.