Well hello… Through all the busy weeks with Uni and placements, we did manage (don’t really know how!) to organise a special Christening ceremony weekend for Baby C in a beautiful town, quaint church with a wonderful Reverend in NSW (you all know who you are, thank-you). It was very special having family, his happy God parents and friends come up to help celebrate this milestone with us (thanks again). I recall how busy it was with Baby C’s feeding and sleeping routine to organise such an event. I think I’d forgotten an outfit for Baby C to wear after the ceremony (managed to remember the family Christening dress though), Baby C’s dummy was called ‘one’ (but I managed to find the other which was called ‘two’), and dress shoes for me to wear; but that was very minor compared to everything else. Obviously, this celebration is not for everyone, some families do naming ceremonies or parties for example, and are special just the same. Knowing Baby C was going to be our last baby, we wanted to celebrate him in all ways possible, our happy way….
My husband reminded me that it took many weeks for Baby C to officially smile at him. He has kept a journal for many years and wrote, “Righto, Baby C is nearly 7 weeks old and has not smiled at me yet! I am giving him one more week before lodging a complaint.” He went on to write just over a week later, “Baby C finally gave me the biggest smile ever, three smiles in a row in fact. I have to remember that I appreciate Baby C being a baby, specifically enjoying his baby-ness!” Mind you Baby C had been smiling at the girls and I for a few weeks, the husband just wasn’t there at the time to see the sweet smiles. So, leading on from this, a competition (unfortunately) developed to see who would get the first word from Baby C: ma-ma or da-da. Funnily enough I lost, interesting as girls both said ma-ma first, but this time Baby C said da, then da-da first. Husband was most proud of this; I think he told all of his friends at least three times (perhaps more!)…
Good to note, Baby C was meeting all his milestones. Rolling over, sitting up by self and had begun commando crawling with his elbows up and legs moving up and down like a lizard at approx. six months; then lots of crawling at approx. eight months. I found out that I was to enrol in another Uni placement for the second semester (this brought a tear to my eye and some mild fear on my husband’s face), due to the course re-structuring (an unpleasant story). I asked (begged really) the Grandparents to help with Baby C (who had just turned eight months) over this time. Both Grans offered to help for a short time, but not long term.
This put us in a quandary as we were not ready to do the day-care thing yet. My (nifty) husband asked around at work and even put up an online bulletin notice at work, asking for recommendations for a nanny or service to help at our home. Miraculously we found a nanny who had ticked all the boxes, and was a nice person and very caring of Baby C (yay! we were in luck). I won’t say too much but this nanny was a famous basketball player for a women’s Australian team and a very tall person indeed… This new found hope only lasted a couple of months, as unfortunately the nanny had to leave the State due to a family matter and wasn’t returning any time soon. So, that left us in a bad situation with no nanny and Uni looming. The following week I received news from the course adviser that I didn’t have to attend the placement this year, but could attend the unit the next. So, all in the space of two weeks, we had a nanny and Uni, then no nanny and then no Uni to worry about (except the half day per week I had to attend). Thank goodness for baby slings, I just squeezed him in the red sling and off I went… (expressing at Uni is another story I don’t need to tell!).
As I write today, I have succumbed to my daughter’s respiratory infection, with a half strength runny and blocked nose, with no sense of smell or taste for most of the day. It really isn’t pleasant having a good coffee brew and not being able to taste it! (Poor me I know…) This temporary illness reminds me of the first infection Baby C had (he was approx. eight months old), like most little ones he became very difficult to settle, feed and console (you can’t blame the little one really with high temps and such!). I recall we took Baby C up to our local GP the next morning after having one of the ‘NIGHTMARE’ nights with him, and the surprise on the doctor’s face said it all. The GP said shaking his head,”Those tonsils look like humongous raspberries back there in your child’s throat! Does he snore?” I recall gulping air, nodding at the snoring bit and recalling the girls with their trouble and early surgeries to remove their tonsils and adenoids. Was Baby C going down the same path (Oh no! I grimaced). So, that was the beginning of a love hate relationship with oral antibiotics, which lasted over twelve months every time Baby C’s ‘raspberries’ blew up in his throat. More on that story later…
A word from Mister C:
“Mister C, you mentioned yesterday that you had a relief teacher in your class?” “Yes”, said Mister C. “She was one hundred years old and had really wrinkly skin. She used a wheelie walker thing to get around. The teacher said to all of us in the class that she was a young forty-five. She was alright though and was pretty funny in class. I liked the teacher that day”…
Stay tuned…
For more Baby stories and we will get there with turning one very soon (such a great milestone for parents, we can say we made it through!). But not before the painful parent’s surgery stories first….
Nice blog, I like the drawing. I remember sitting on the couch and talking to the cool nanny, I was kicking a ball and we called it kicking-fun.