A week is a long time in...

A week is a long time in poo-itics.

The first week at home was looking like a doddle;
"Hey dude, whats the fuss???"

Little Mike just slept and gave the occasional wimper. Granted these wimpers came at midnight, 3am and 6am, but in general he was true to his name - an (arc)angel.

But then came the start of week 2.

In the lingo of one Kylie Mole (Comedy Company)...
"AWWMIGAWD!"

Suddenly sleeping beauty became the bellowing beast, particularly come afternoon and evening.

"That crying, oh its just colic..." we were told. But then no-one can tell you what exactly colic is.
"Oh, its when they start crying"
Gee. Umm...Thanks(!).

Lucky for us, young Katrina (see pic left) frum UnZed (New Zealand for those without a babel fish), dropped in and stayed for the weekend on her way home from Sydney. Much as we first thought coping with a staying guest so soon after the pop would be the end of us, it infact proved the saviour.

Ms K is Mistress P's UnZed stepmother, but more to the point she is a women of wise words and angelic demenour. He tips and advice soon had Master Mike sleeping like, well, a baby.

Sure, he still gets the occasional "fists-of-fury" rage, where he throws his little hands in the air and thrashes about so hard we've seriously contemplated tossing him in the tub with the dirty jumpsuits, some water and the Hurricane green power laundry liquid (grey water "lawn friendly") and getting a washload done into the bargain, but the last couple of days he has, knock wood, been back to his gentler former self largely thanks to Ms K.

And just maybe we're just learning a few tricks too.

On the sleeping front we've been doing ok. Mistress P is up every 3 hours or so to give him a feed, but we've also been finding that his last little agitation of the night is not so much "I'm fungry, gimme boobie" but rather "I'm grumbly, lets boogie". Hence non-mammaried dad is able to do the "rise and shine" shift and let mum have a rest for another couple of hours.

Of course this grand plan came partially unstuck, after dad came up with the genius idea of combining late night baby sitting with the final of the cricket world cup (well, Australia was going to win after all). Which dragged on and on (somewhat farcically) and into the Jamacian night, meaning dad stayed awake for far too long and hence was officially pronounced buggered-on-arrival the next day. And good fer nuthin. (Not that a baby cares...)

On the Mike front, well the young tike appears to be taking it all in his stride, cept he's skipped a decade and decided he's a teenager already. This primarily takes the form of an akker (i.e., acne) attack. The mite has it all over his face.

Seems this is very common for breast fed babies, as they also injest mums hormones and, in turn, can break out like a luvstruck 14 year old on their first date. It'll pass in a few weeks, we're told.

Other excitments for the lil tacker include meeting his uncle Jim and hence seeing his first real Aussie ute (see pic below), some walks along the beach in the all too balmy April weather, his first trip in a pram, and "enjoying" his longest car trip to date, all the way to the airport and back, complete with a complimentary taxi driver altercation. (But it just wouldnt be Melb airport without a taxi driver altercation...)

Oh, and he has actually - no, I know you wont believe this but trust me... seen his first rain. Tru dinks. (3.8 then 6.0 mm on April 28 and 29, respectively.)

Did we write anything about how much sleep we were (not) gettizzzzZZZZZZZZZ...

(Goodnight...) Print this post