No prison can hold the invincible Captain Zogg. The sleep wrap—theoretically designed to stop him rolling onto his belly during the night—doesn’t work as well as we’d hoped. Most mornings, I find him as pictured (although usually not looking so happy about it). Sometimes he’s even managed to undo...
If my baby were the only baby in the world, I’d be happy with him. It wouldn’t occur to me that anything may be wrong. But despite common platitude saying, ‘Every baby is different,’ I can’t repress niggling paranoid discomforts when I see Timmy being different not just from...
I need to take a moment here to be incredibly whiney and self-absorbed, to the incredulity of many, I’m sure. For those silver-lining/look-at-the-bright-side folks, let me save you the trouble of response. I’ll do it for you: “You did so well just to get acknowledged.” “Think of all the...
I don’t know why Timmy’s non-formula food is called ‘solids’. When it’s splashing about the room, very little is solid about it. A formal recognition that it was time to include solids into his diet didn’t actually happen. I wonder if it happens to any mum. It was just...
I miss my little grublet. He’s been with his grandmother for a few days, which I believe has been more of a challenge for me than for him. I had burst into tears before Mum had even left our driveway with him, and the rest of the day was...
It looks like the bones of the Sleep Dragon can be laid to rest by those of the Colic Dragon, and the villagers may once again live in peace and joy. I’ve been keeping a digital record of Timmy’s sleep patterns for a couple of months now, and it...
In the name of expanding my horizons and getting out of my comfort zone, I did the most nerve-wracking public speaking exercise I think I’ve ever done: I read a story to five kids. My work at the local library usually doesn’t comprise of more than book circulation –...
It’s been a busy couple of weeks! We’ve had two instalments of visitors from Australia, so any established routine with Timmy (not that there was a great deal to claim in the first place) was put aside in favour of taking the opportunity to do the Tour Guide thing....
Is there a post-pregnancy hormone (a full four months on) that I can blame for my wanting to cry over silly things? I can’t blame PMS because those mechanics haven’t even resumed yet, but I’d like there to be some chemical reason, just so I don’t feel so abashed....
Today’s entry is an image strip brought to you by Timmy:
My back feels like a lego tower on its way down. I was given a voucher for a free infant chiropractic assessment and adjustment, so in true kiwi tradition I took advantage of a freebie, taking Timmy in. A special is the next best thing to a freebie, so...
It’s never been a secret that I find socialising difficult. It’s not that I don’t know how—it’s just so much work. I enjoy time out with established friends, the ones who take the work out of socialising; the ones who aren’t disgusted, or even surprised, when in a public...
I already miss some things about the little baby Timmy used to be. (Although, not enough to convince me to have another one any time soon.) In his ultrasound scans—the ones in which he had a discernible face, anyway—he looked like Casper the ghost, so I’d been delighted to...
Sometimes I feel like a mum. I feel proud achievement when I transform Timmy from a crying bundle of discontentment, to peaceful and happy. But then on Friday afternoons I meet with other mums and babies from my antenatal class, where I feel so unlike the rest of them...
It’s not just toddlers and middle-aged men who get excited at shiny new toys. Our new camera arrived yesterday — a Panasonic Lumix TZ20 — and I’m so pleased with it! A cynic would say it’s too early to make that call, since I haven’t tried its video function yet,...
It’s probably bad form to liken one’s child to an executioner, but in the last few days he’s let the noose around me loosen a little. It used to be that if he was awake, I needed to be entertaining him — but now he’s happy to let me...
Raising a child is a highly contentious activity — countless women are more than ready to point out the merits and sins of any mothering method one cares to think of, and surely no issue is more divisive than the question of food source. The last thing I wanted...
The reason my bundle of baby is often so grumpy is because he has a tough moonlighting job. You’d be grumpy too if you’d been defending galaxies from dastardly hostiles all night, then came home to someone insisting you hoist your legs up so they can get a nappy...
It occurred to me today as I stared despondently at my open dresser drawer, that getting dressed shouldn’t be the hardest part of my morning. The laundry room has a heap of items waiting for me to sort through into categories of ‘Try-to-get-this-stain-out’ and ‘Don’t-even-bother’ piles, and yet the...
With his colic sufficiently sedated, Timmy’s been presentable enough for us to make two voluntary public appearances this week. This was as much an unfamiliar and daunting prospect for me as for him, I imagine. We’ve been housebound so long (in a gracious effort to keep his screams from...
The only difference between arrogant self-absorption and healthy self-expression is whether the listener is being paid to hear you or not. I get the occasional visit from a nurse who works in mental health. The purpose of her visit is straightforward: she comes to hear me talk all about...
I never saw the light at the end of the tunnel coming. All of a sudden I found myself in blinding sunlight, wondering if the struggle was really, truly over, or if the tunnel just had an absurdly large skylight. My little bundle of anything-but-joy ordinarily has a very...
