Other people's babies

A couple of things have happened recently that made me feel I was taking another step to dadhood.

1. We went around to a friend of my wife's and without asking (or thinking), I picked up their son and gave him a cuddle. My wife looked at me strangely, I woke up like out of a daze and sheepishly retreated from dadhood to manhood and went off in search of a beer.

2. Last week an old work colleague brought their baby to the office and (again without thinking), I got up and went to have a look.

I even asked some knowledgeable questions about how she was sleeping and whether she had teeth yet. Ok, so they were not really knowleagable questions, but they were a huge advance on mumbling "congratulations" that made up my dealings with new mothers in the past.

I'm not sure what to draw from this, but I think I'm entering some new territory. A few months ago I'd rather have gone to the dentist than spend more than a second with someone else's baby.

Now, not only am I spending time with them, I don't mind them throwing up on me.

Well, perhaps that is a bit strong, I do mind it when they throw up on me.

But the general thought holds true.

It may have taken me 35 years, but I've discovered other people's baby's can be interesting.

Sophie's normal, bouncy service is resumed

A few days ago my daughter was in hospital with a temperature that was way too high. She was in a real state, and had her parents panicked and the doctors puzzled

Now, three days later, she's back to her bouncy self.

It's like nothing happened.

Except that her parents can remember.

As far as she's concerned, it might as well never have happened. But I keep looking at her sideways, when we think she's not noticing us. I'm trying to see if she lets her guard down, to see if this revitalised Sophie is real, or if she's hiding her pain and putting on an act to spare us.

I should have more faith in her, it's no act - if there's one thing babies are, it's honest. I should know by now that she has no problem waking my wife and I up in the middle of the night, or screaming in the middle of a quiet part of a TV show. And if she has no problem with that, then when she's got something legitimate to play on, there would be absolutely no holding back.

Perhaps I should stop judging her through my standards.

Or maybe it's not judging, but me trying to get rid of the guilt I feel because it really was a hassle when she got sick. Don't get me wrong, the sickness was all about her pain, which was horrible, but it meant a lot of extra work for my wife and I as well.

My wife and I are still feeling the strain, and while it's great that she's well again and while I would take her place to save her from any sickness that comes up, there's a small part of me that thinks she should still be showing some effect of it. It's not fair that she can carry on as normal after giving us such a fright.

But maybe I'm learning a bit more about being a parent. Maybe being a parent is learning that inone of this is about me at all. My daughter is seven months old, what is she going to do - say thank you? Maybe the way to look at it is that this is unconditional love. She has the right to expect this of me because this is what parents do. Maybe when I realise some of this, I become a parent?

In a way it's refreshing. I spend so much of my working life trying to say the right thing, to pick the best moment to ask a question. She just goes right ahead with what she wants to do or express. I can't can blame her - it's effective. Not so sure it would work in the real world though, unconditional love is not so common in the workplace!

So this week our life can resume. It's back to spooning in solid food and trying to get her to bed on time. But that's not a bad thing - for the moment, to my tired eyes, the normal routine has never felt so fresh.

Back on the Blog

I've just looked at the last blog entry and it's been over a month since I last wrote something, so it's time to get back on the horse.

I'm starting to realise again that life goes on regardless and that I need to take some time out occasionally to note some of the funny things that are constantly happening as my daughter grows up.

At the time, they're "just one of those things" but over the months (and maybe even the years if my typing finger stands up to it) I'm going to try and make them build up to something special.

Finding What's Really Important

I was wondering tonight exactly how it is that a five month old girl can get two 30+ adults to dance around the kitchen in the hope of a smile.

I just have to repeat that because I don't really think I believe what I'm writing. I've trudged home after a 12 hour day at work, ready for the welcome embrace of the couch. Then I see my daughter and go from feeling like collapsing to getting the urge to dance around the kitchen for a smile.

Now dancing is not our forte, and so we have to be fairly desparate to start something like that, especially in a kitchen the size of ours, especially when there's no music on and we're trying to avoid the squeaky floor boards to keep on the good side of our neighbour below.

Dancing is meant to be fun, and I only realise how seriously I'm taking it when Sophie doesn't smile. The feeling of disapointment actually hurts (though when I add a bit of singing to go along with the dancing the smile comes - even if it looks more like one of pity than genuine enjoyment on her part).

Thinking about this makes me realise again that the value I get from Sophie is greater than anything I get from work. All the busy running around of the day is what success is supposed to be like, but while 12 hours of that might bring in something for the company, for me it doesn't bring the same satisfaction of 30 second dance for a smile.

I guess that's because Sophie isn't work, she's what I'm working for.

Lost and Found

Yesterday brought another reminder of Sophie's Christening.

I finally got around to taking my suit to the drycleaners* and was doing a final pocket check, when I found the booties that went with her Christening outfit.

Yep, those same booties that I swore I put in in the car, the same booties that I desparately tried to find someone else to blame for losing and the same booties that I spent at least an hour looking for, cursing under my breath all the while.

I'm pretty sure this is the coolest thing I've ever found left in my pockets. It definitely ranks above hankies (clean or dirty), above bibs (usually dirty) and above cash too (at least the amounts I'm likely to find in my pockets).

In terms of the feeling that came with finding them it rates above everything.

Not sure also what this says about her Dad trying to teach her stuff when his memory is going already. At this rate I'll have forgotten everything before I get to pass it on.

At least I'll be in good company though and can (quietly) blame forgetting the bonnet on my wife. In my (quiet) opinion, the gown is so long that no one would have seen the booties anyway, but the bonnet - on second thoughts mentioning the bonnet is only going to cause trouble!

So tomorrow it's off to the post office to send the booties 11,000 miles back to Christchurch to await the next Christening and their next wearer, and by sending them, I'm taking full responsibility for smuggling them out of the country. Best to have them in a safe place, and who knows, in another few years there just might be another call for booties and a bonnet ...

* Yes, she's just as keen to leave her mark on Dad's best suit as she is any of my older clothes. Yes, it has taken me three weeks to get around to unpacking. And no, I'm not looking forward to handing the suit over to the drycleaners after all that time in the suitcase.

Just Bouncing Along On a Swiss Ball

For some reason Sophie has no intention of letting anyone be comfortable while they are holding her, When I walk in the door, all I want to do is give my daughter a cuddle and sit down.

Not an unreasonable wish, you'd think, but she gives me a choice, sit down with and hear her cry or stand up and hear her coo. Somehow she can tell whether I'm standing or sitting - it must be some sort of sixth sense because I've got my wife to measure the angles and nothing changes. Short of having an altimeter there can be no way she can tell the difference whether I'm up or down, especially with her eyes closed. Heck, sometimes late at night I'm not even sure if I'm standing or sitting. Even so, with some spooky sort of baby ESP, she knows.

But the other night while cleaning out some cupboards I came across an old inflatable Swiss Ball (a relic from the time I read in a magazine about the virtues of throwing away my office chair and using one of these instead. At the time I had delusions of increasing my core stability and decreasing my waistline).

A blinding flash of inspiration had me dust it off the Swiss Ball and blow it up - maybe it would give her the rocking movement of standing and me the comfort of sitting. Maybe I could bring my 30 plus years of experience in negotiation to bear on my 11 week old daughter. Maybe we could cut a deal.

So I picked her up, got her happy, then slowly sat down.

And stopped.

Silence.

Ding ding. A rare round goes to Dad.

Our house is now a happy one again. Dad can come home from work and sit down. Daughter can get her evening cuddle. Oh, and Mum can watch my progress towards core stability and a healthy waistline.

Growing Up - Staring Eyes and Poking Tongues

It's amazing how things change every day, I thought it was all moving fast in the beginning, that transition from Sophie being inside my pregnant wife to out here in the real world was amazing enough. I thought that nothing could top it when Sophie came home from the hospital, but she just seems to change faster and faster, and every day brings something new.

Now when she's being carried in the Baby Bjorn I don't have to worry about her head bumping around, it goes exactly where she wants it (though I've learnt that the more uncomfortable it looks the happier she probably is). Unfortunately the days of having her tucked in facing me are very much over.

Much to my distress, suddenly Dad's chest is not the most fascinating thing around, the outside world is much more exciting, especially other people. Not great for a Dad's ego when he's ignored and complete strangers take her full attention. She just stares at them, and to make things worse, she's started getting a reflex action: the harder she stares, the more her tongue pokes out.

So we're walking around the Sainsbury's in Streatham with Sophie in the Baby Bjorn. Her eyes are wide open, she's grinning, and her tongue is hanging out.

My first thought is that this is London and you should never stare at anyone, but it's time for me to get an education because all she gets are smiles.

Babies, it seems, can get away with anything, even in London.

Why I Love Daylight Savings (the Spring Addition)

Ah, daylight savings, spring forward, fall back and all that. My wife and I have been trying to get our daughter Sophie into a routine for a few weeks now and then along comes the government and changes things on us.

It's a nice feeling to be able to blame the government for some of my parenting difficulties. Yep, blame the government, that has a nice ring to it. I'm going to have to look for more ways they make my life hard. I wonder how difficult that's going to be . . .

But while I wasn't looking forward to daylight savings (pardon the pun), it did bring me one small, rare and petty victory over my daughter. Every morning when Sophie wakes up, my second thought is "I can't wait to see my daughter". Unfortunately (and this is something I'm working on as part of my quest to become the perfect Dad), my first thought is, "what I wouldn't give for another hour's sleep".

And guess what.

This morning, when I looked at the clock, another hour of sleep is exactly what I had got. So for the first time ever I'm grateful to daylight savings for giving me an almost normal sleep. It looks like Sophie has been preparing for daylight savings since the day she was born (all of 12 weeks).

So maybe instead of blaming the government I should do something nice, maybe give them a donation. A tithe sounds about right, 10% of my wages. On second thoughts it was a great hour's sleep, so maybe I should show some real appreciation and double that, perhaps more than double it? And what do you know, a quick look at my payslip and someone's done it already. How thoughtful of them . . .

Filters (I Don't Hear No Crying)

The other night I had been holding my daughter Sophie for about half an hour while she was trying to get to sleep. I was watching TV, I can't remember what it was, but there was nothing great on. Then, suddenly, I realised she was crying again, and not just crying, screaming. Somehow I had filtered it out completely.

My first thought was, what a crying shame to waste my moment of Zen-like focus watching TV!

My second thought was that I have moments like this every day. My journey in from Streatham officially takes about 50 minutes door to door. Some days it crawls by and the train takes an age to get from station to station. Other days I'm at work before I realise it, and haven't even got annoyed by anyone taking up my personal space on the train.

My daughter (and all babies) have the same thing. If they have decided to sleep then it's impossible to wake them. I can pick Sophie up, change her nappy and put her down in another room with no problem. This makes them great when we want to take photos as it's the onnly time they stay still - being pushed in a hollowed out log (like in the picture above) takes equal place with being tucked up in a cot. When she has decided that she doesn't want to sleep though, there is a problem. The slightest noise can wake her (heck, even no noise can wake her).

I think life would be so much easier if I could filter our attention like this. It's like the old self help saying that while you can't control what happens to you (the baby in your arms is crying), you can control how you react to it (ignore it - oops, I think "ignore" might be the wrong word here!).

If babies could concentrate on sleeping when they're meant to be sleeping, it would make parents' l Of course this is never going to happen in the real world, so put the word out I'm working to invent an attention filter, or even better, I'm looking to buy one. And I promise I won't waste it watching TV!