big trip

Its hard to believe that Mike's nearly (in 4 days) two months old. Already.

Groundhog day can do that to you.

But being 8 weeks old means that its time a lad was oot and aboot, exploring the big wide world. And hence, being the staunch monarchist that he is, it was decided to celebrate the Queens Birthday (actually its King George III's birthday, but lets not get overly pedantic)/ski season opening long weekend with...

A trip to the beach.

As is the want of the family, Sandy Point it was once again. Grand ideas of a windsurf were scuttled when the only wind for the weekend came from Master Mikes poopchute, and hence the three days mostly constisted of lots of walking along the beach, around the town, to the playground, and along the road to Shallow Inlet and back. The latter walk is some 7km round trip, but the advantages of breast feeding meant that a pit stop and refuel could be had on a picnic table by the inlets edge, in amongst the tea tree and flittering superb fairy wrens. Bootiful.

One of the great Sandy Point pluses is the ocean beach at low tide. Its long and wide and firm, making it perfect for beach cricket, crazy landsailing and the apparently new Sandy sport of competative pram pushing. For evidence of the current baby boom you need look no further than Sandy beach - prams were everywhere, and if you didnt have a bug-a-boo megadollar thingy you were apparently not in the race. (We have a 4 wheeler "sports buggy" - proudly made in New Zealand of their finest, and apparently heaviest, steel, and hence needs an All Black front row to actually push it through deep sand. That said, put it on the Waratah Bay beach below the high tide mark, with associated cement like sand, and shes flying...)

The other joy of a weekend away is sharing it with friends. In this case ones with an 11-month old and ones who are still "practising". (Regularly.) This being our first trip away with Master Mike and others, it was a steep learning curve. For instance, we never realised how much he cried until every time he did so, we'd leap up and panic that he was annoying and/or awakening everyone in the house. (At home we're often happy to let him bellow for a while if we know nothing is wrong.) Of course everyone else was probably noticing about a tenth of what we did, but try telling yourself that when the walls are echoing at 3am...

That said, the cool sea air also gave him his longest uninterrupted nights sleep to date. From 9pm to 4:30am. Thats 7.5 hours straight... Crikey! Plus he travelled a treat. The bit-over-2 hour drive down was done fully asleep, and the return voyage was only interrupted by a little bit of grizzling near the world famous (if you're an asparagus worshipper: which we're not - it makes our wee smell) Koo Wee Rup, which was easily solved by some rousing renditions from the "Australia's Best Beer Ballads" CD...

But its no longer all grizzles and sleep for the lad. He has also, just in the past week, made two steps forward that to us are a joy, but to others might seem ho-hum.

Firstly, he's started to smile - and not just when he's pushing out a big Mr Hankey, but when he is genuinely happy with the world. Its heart melting stuff when he looks at you and grins (without then pooping himself) - worth the price of admission alone.

And secondly, he's discovered other babies. There was that one at Sandy, who looked bigger and dribblier, and who stared back occasionally and sometimes tried to hold hands/slap us about. And then theres the one in the mirror. He's wierd and a bit hard to fathom, cos he's being held by mum/dad at the same time, and is always looking us sraight in the eye. Thatta one is most confusing.

So that was it for the first big trip away. A little nerve wracking for mum and dad at times (but still great fun), a whole lotta new experiences for the boy (sand dunes, bush tracks, red capped dotterals, BBQ's, beez neez beer (or at least the smell of it), baby toys, sleeping in mum and dads bedroom again, beach driving (dam yabby-pump holes!), heavy rain, burnt toast, log fires, and cold bathrooms) and another step along the road to normality. (Whatever that is now!)

It was then back home to the joys of the first big vaccination experience. Family headed down to the health care place to be greeted by a dozen-plus other screaming tots, some waiting for the pin cushioning and some in their mandatory 15 minutes recovery session, and a cupla mums (and their support team hubbies) from the Wednesday mothers group. It was actually quite a social. Until...

Two shots in one leg (Hepatitus B and Diphtheria/TetanusPertussis/Polio), and one shot in the other (Pneumococcal).

Mum couldn't watch, Dad held his arms, Doctor went the needle and Mike yelled like a banshee - for about 5 seconds per jab and then just sat back, went
"So thats all ya got ya pussies??"
and fell asleep.

They breed 'em tough in the Baghdad-end of Hampton. Print this post