I am glad that myself and Ciara are fans of Prof. Brian Cox. It is not that he has taught us about keyboard stylings or the music of the 90s. Rather he has explained to us, by-the-by how it is that Max can eat so much. He clearly has a fully functional Black Hole somewhere in his digestive system. The Litres of breast and formula milk, the spoons of carrot, butternut squash, melon and sweet potato are trapped in the inescapable gravity well that is little Max - the output does not match the input so a Black Hole is the only explanation.
He has always chugged down the milk. He takes to both the nipple and teat with a fervor that does little to damage the teat but has a rather dramatic effect on Ciara. He took a little while to get the hang of solid foods.
Well they are called solid food but they are don't follow any of the normal features of a solid. They are a mush, a big mushy mush. As I say, he took a little while to get the hang of them. For the first couple of weeks he was a cat, he lapped at the spoon and it was more luck than planning that some morsels got in. Those few morsels tasted good though and the banana especially. Once the taste stuck, he approached the problem and in true Max fashion and came to a startling realisation. If he opens his mouth and then chomps down, it works much better.
There is a cliche that babies get their food all over themselves when they eat. This is true, to an extent, but I think it is more to do with the feeder than the feedee. Max is willing to suck in all food that comes within reach. He is also however a twitchy writher when being fed. The hand of the feeder must match the movement of the face, the timing of the spoon insertion must be as accurate as Luke Sywalker's attack on the Death Star or the food will explode harmlessly on the surface. Eyebrows, nostrils, cheeks, chins and foreheads have all ended up encrusted.
As the feeders get better the radius of encrustation gets smaller and more and more of the food gets into the aforementioned black hole. The more that goes in, the more that young Max would wish went in and so it goes.
As for preferences, Max loves Banana and sweet Potato the best. The sweet potato washes out beautifully. The banana is a different matter entirely. It stains black. It stains the floor, the bibs, the muslin cloths. It should be used as the basis for dyes and inks. I think that the famous ink squirting squids of the world must attack banana boats and consume their contents to restock.
The mystery is where the food goes. What alternate universe gets the ever-so staining banana, squash, carrot cocktail dumped on it, and do they mind?
Sunday, November 20, 2011
How to tire out a child
Max continues to change on a weekly basis. He must therefor change on a daily basis but I can't spot it. It's only when I have a bit of time with him at the weekend that I really notice. He now has many hundreds of reactions, facial expressions, noises that make for an hilarious symphony. I shall try and chronicle a few of them. To do this I shall put them in a context and that is the daily goal - to tire out a child.
The premise is this. Sane parents make good parents. Sane parents remain sane by sleeping through the night. In order for the sane parents to sleep though the night, young Max must also sleep through the night. This is achieved by a routine and a programme of activities that would scare even the most dedicated multi-tasker. Do not misunderstand me, we are not slaves to the routine but if it is stepped away from, chaos ensues. Young Max does not sleep and his parents become a jot less sane. This is fine. A jot we can handle, two jots even. Three or four jots and some of the wheels come off. Five jots and Daddy is buttering his tie and peeing in the closet. So the routine and the tiring out.
All of this action to ensure parental sanity and a stimulated Max. To be clear we never over-stimulate the child. Never. That can almost be as bad as under stiumlation and will lead to unfortunate incidents with sniper rifles and clock towers later in life. Max responds with the reactions, facial expressions, noises and so on. They change as the day goes on.
Lets begin with the 4am squawk. Around this time every morning he wakes, squawks and goes back to sleep, unless some of his conditions are unsuitable. If, for example it is too cold, he is too hungry (the 11pm feed stops this), if he is sniffly or if the night light is not on then he wakes up properly and demands, food, cuddles and a song or two. I can't think of a better word to describe the noise. Its a squawk - that's all there is to it.
7am rolls around and he has a softer sort of mewing noise. Its not a whine, its not a cry, its a mew. He mews and we pick him up. We all know just how awful it is when someone turns on the light in a dark room. Our eyes pain us, the reality of day time is difficult to face. Our dreams dash away like hit and run drivers. Max has a similar reaction when he is brought into the changing table. He clamps his eyes shut, he clenches his fists and mews all the harder.
He then smiles once the changing process has begun. Two things can disrupt this happy mood. The first is if Max does not feel he is a part of proceedings, he must be talked to and jollied along or he will cry. The second is if the cold air stimulates the sphincter to relax. If this happens he will hold his breath for the duration of flow and make a very low nnnnnnnnnnnnnnggg noise. Peeing is not a trivial thing and has all of his attention for those few seconds. Since we learned the trick of the pee-pee-tee-pee we have no problems with this (The PPTP is a piece of discarded clothing placed over the groin during the changing process that catches all micturations).
He will then get fed and this is when the crying makes its first real appearance. Babies have an internal dial that moves like the second hand on a clock - fast. It has all their emotions on it and because they cannot talk, all of their communication must be done through radical mood change. It can run like this. I'm happy, I'm content, I am enraged, I am happy, I am a screaming ball of rage, I am happy, I am tired, I am happy, I am content..... This could be 10 seconds worth. Its like watching a flock of starlings change direction twenty times a minute. For a baby a cry is just a way to demand things. There is no polite requesting. There is not gentle hint - I'm terribly sorry could you pass the bottle - no, its wwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh and hope someone is listening. It works of course so its being used more. We shall have to work on that.
When the feeding and burping are over its onto the entertainment. Teddies, rhymes, funny faces and rolling over practice are all brought to bear and the smiles between the occasional cry would make proud parents feel like they are on top of the world. It must be an evolutionary thing. That smile is like opium. I will do whatever it takes to get more. I am often found dancing and singing like a deranged budgie on the streets of this and other fine cities seeking an elusive smile. Just one more hit, just one more....
So its crying and smiling and an occasional laugh until the evening - with one exception because he gets tired and needs a nap. That action/reaction interplay is very like the evenig-bed-time one, so we'll do that later.
At about 5pm the raspberries start. He looks off into space and blows raspberries at everyone. I find I can't easily manage them anymore, I suppose the older mouth just can't handle a noise as complex and multifaceted as a raspberries. These are long wet bbblllluuuurrrrrps sounds that ensure another developmental goal and keep passersby amused. When I try to blow one back, my tongue goes numb and I get a tickling sensation in my lips - see what I mean.
Then comes the delighted squealing. This happens during or just after the bath. If is often prompted by a song. He currently likes "I like the way you work it - no gigity" - Blackstreet or "Loser" - Beck. I'm sure his tastes will change. The lower these songs are sung, the more he squeals. He's a drum and base boy for sure.
The last noise I shall talk about in this blog is the sleep whine. Its not really a whine, more of a moan. Could we call it a whoan? He places them a fixed distance apart. Whoan, whoan, whoan, - It conveys so much. Max is saying. I'm tired, put me in my sleeping bag and put me to bed, but please keep the noise to a minimum, turn on the light so I don't wake at four and carry me around for a half an hour now so that I can fall asleep where you stand, where its warm and cozy. The whoan ends with fast asleepness.
All of these interactions must be kept at a high energy level, they must be repeated and they must be interspersed with food, play, kicking time and bath time. If the high energy level is kept up and each day there is a walk or a singing class or a yoga session then the routine will do its job and the whoan session will be short and sweet. He will rest and his parents will stay sane.
The premise is this. Sane parents make good parents. Sane parents remain sane by sleeping through the night. In order for the sane parents to sleep though the night, young Max must also sleep through the night. This is achieved by a routine and a programme of activities that would scare even the most dedicated multi-tasker. Do not misunderstand me, we are not slaves to the routine but if it is stepped away from, chaos ensues. Young Max does not sleep and his parents become a jot less sane. This is fine. A jot we can handle, two jots even. Three or four jots and some of the wheels come off. Five jots and Daddy is buttering his tie and peeing in the closet. So the routine and the tiring out.
All of this action to ensure parental sanity and a stimulated Max. To be clear we never over-stimulate the child. Never. That can almost be as bad as under stiumlation and will lead to unfortunate incidents with sniper rifles and clock towers later in life. Max responds with the reactions, facial expressions, noises and so on. They change as the day goes on.
Lets begin with the 4am squawk. Around this time every morning he wakes, squawks and goes back to sleep, unless some of his conditions are unsuitable. If, for example it is too cold, he is too hungry (the 11pm feed stops this), if he is sniffly or if the night light is not on then he wakes up properly and demands, food, cuddles and a song or two. I can't think of a better word to describe the noise. Its a squawk - that's all there is to it.
7am rolls around and he has a softer sort of mewing noise. Its not a whine, its not a cry, its a mew. He mews and we pick him up. We all know just how awful it is when someone turns on the light in a dark room. Our eyes pain us, the reality of day time is difficult to face. Our dreams dash away like hit and run drivers. Max has a similar reaction when he is brought into the changing table. He clamps his eyes shut, he clenches his fists and mews all the harder.
He then smiles once the changing process has begun. Two things can disrupt this happy mood. The first is if Max does not feel he is a part of proceedings, he must be talked to and jollied along or he will cry. The second is if the cold air stimulates the sphincter to relax. If this happens he will hold his breath for the duration of flow and make a very low nnnnnnnnnnnnnnggg noise. Peeing is not a trivial thing and has all of his attention for those few seconds. Since we learned the trick of the pee-pee-tee-pee we have no problems with this (The PPTP is a piece of discarded clothing placed over the groin during the changing process that catches all micturations).
He will then get fed and this is when the crying makes its first real appearance. Babies have an internal dial that moves like the second hand on a clock - fast. It has all their emotions on it and because they cannot talk, all of their communication must be done through radical mood change. It can run like this. I'm happy, I'm content, I am enraged, I am happy, I am a screaming ball of rage, I am happy, I am tired, I am happy, I am content..... This could be 10 seconds worth. Its like watching a flock of starlings change direction twenty times a minute. For a baby a cry is just a way to demand things. There is no polite requesting. There is not gentle hint - I'm terribly sorry could you pass the bottle - no, its wwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh and hope someone is listening. It works of course so its being used more. We shall have to work on that.
When the feeding and burping are over its onto the entertainment. Teddies, rhymes, funny faces and rolling over practice are all brought to bear and the smiles between the occasional cry would make proud parents feel like they are on top of the world. It must be an evolutionary thing. That smile is like opium. I will do whatever it takes to get more. I am often found dancing and singing like a deranged budgie on the streets of this and other fine cities seeking an elusive smile. Just one more hit, just one more....
So its crying and smiling and an occasional laugh until the evening - with one exception because he gets tired and needs a nap. That action/reaction interplay is very like the evenig-bed-time one, so we'll do that later.
At about 5pm the raspberries start. He looks off into space and blows raspberries at everyone. I find I can't easily manage them anymore, I suppose the older mouth just can't handle a noise as complex and multifaceted as a raspberries. These are long wet bbblllluuuurrrrrps sounds that ensure another developmental goal and keep passersby amused. When I try to blow one back, my tongue goes numb and I get a tickling sensation in my lips - see what I mean.
Then comes the delighted squealing. This happens during or just after the bath. If is often prompted by a song. He currently likes "I like the way you work it - no gigity" - Blackstreet or "Loser" - Beck. I'm sure his tastes will change. The lower these songs are sung, the more he squeals. He's a drum and base boy for sure.
The last noise I shall talk about in this blog is the sleep whine. Its not really a whine, more of a moan. Could we call it a whoan? He places them a fixed distance apart. Whoan, whoan, whoan, - It conveys so much. Max is saying. I'm tired, put me in my sleeping bag and put me to bed, but please keep the noise to a minimum, turn on the light so I don't wake at four and carry me around for a half an hour now so that I can fall asleep where you stand, where its warm and cozy. The whoan ends with fast asleepness.
All of these interactions must be kept at a high energy level, they must be repeated and they must be interspersed with food, play, kicking time and bath time. If the high energy level is kept up and each day there is a walk or a singing class or a yoga session then the routine will do its job and the whoan session will be short and sweet. He will rest and his parents will stay sane.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Further uses for arms
I have written before about how Max appears to develop before our
very eyes and the pace shows no signs of abating. At the moment he is
working on his fine motor skills. Frankly these have been embarrassing
up until very recently.
At Mini-Music he has steadfastly refused to open his fists for clapping. While others have been clapping and smiling he has been drooling and sitting with fists clenched on his knees. He has not been able to grasp any of his toys without a lot of help and has kicked rather than grasped with his hands. As I said, really embarrassing. His parents have been hiding their faces in shame and the moniker 'very advanced' has been slipping away from him.
All of that has changed in the last week or so. He has leapt forward with manual dexterity and it is worth reporting on. Over the last few weeks he has started to clench, grasp and grab with his left hand and slap and push with his right. He can even flick images on an iphone, though he quickly looses interest and we expect that he is holding out for the iphone 5. His left hand can hold rattles, rings, toys, fingers, and put all of them into his mouth. He can shake his play gym and he can even, when in a good mood grasp his bottle.
His right hand used to just flap up and down uselessly but now he lashes out with unerring accuracy. He can push his bottle away when he has had enough. He can hit all of the rattles on his play chair, he can smack his knees with delight, at the right times and at the same time as smiling and laughing. So the icing on the cake came when he opened his fists at mini-music and while he didn't quite clap, he didn't actively resist. Well he is only four months old. He has also developed an affinity for one of the songs that they sing in Mini-Music. It's called 'Forwards and Backwards' and it calms him instantly. He can be crying and screaming and he will stop when he hears this song. It use to take a lot more work, now its just one song, making the Mini-Music worth every penny and a lot more! He can also shake the rattle properly now, not in beat, or even when there is music playing but progress is progress.
Two other items of note swimming and babysitting. While on holiday in a hotel it was the turn of a local Primary school teacher who we contacted through an agency. The role of a Babysitter is long established and both Ciara and I have babysat in our day. But how would it work in a single room? There was no downstairs to move to or kitchen to raid. The lady was a pro. She breezed in, took one look at Max, they smiled at each other and she turned to us, so much as to say 'off you go'. The only question she had was 'where is the internet connection?' We came back three hours later to a happy sleeping baby.
Another non-typical set up was last Saturday. Grandad flew solo and looked after Max for the whole evening. He walked up and down with him on his shoulder, he peered in at the cot and listened very closely for the proof of life. His dedication was admirable and his unflappableness remarkable. Max enjoyed the whole experience and slept very well. He has been consistently good for babysitters. Though in fairness they have been very good for him. From Ennis, Dublin and Cork they have all been professionals. They have not brought their boyfriends around, they have not smoked drugs, they have not eaten all the food in the fridge and they have looked after our little man wonderfully!
On holiday I also got a chance to swim with Max. It was amazing. He has no fear of water and will swim (supported) on his back and front. He even goes under water and his face is delightful. He scrunches his mouth into a pout and closes his eyes so tight that it looks like he is bowing a massive bassoon or contemplating a particularly difficult bowel motion. Ciara has done fantastic work with Max and he knows his floating from his swimming and his gripping the side of the pool from his diving in. Key lessons. He was very popular in the pool, one small girl with a pair of floating arm-bands bigger than her head came up to me and asked very sweetly could she play with Max. She explained that she like babies and that she liked swimming and saw no reason why she couldn't marry the two likes. When I explained that Max was a bit tired and had to go, I could see her look of skepticism and disbelief. Here was another adult telling her things she couldn't do. Max then solved the problem of breaking a small girl's trust by rubbing his eyes and yawning. I had plausible deniability and he did sleep long and hard that afternoon - almost all the way through his visit to Fota Wildlife Park.
At Mini-Music he has steadfastly refused to open his fists for clapping. While others have been clapping and smiling he has been drooling and sitting with fists clenched on his knees. He has not been able to grasp any of his toys without a lot of help and has kicked rather than grasped with his hands. As I said, really embarrassing. His parents have been hiding their faces in shame and the moniker 'very advanced' has been slipping away from him.
All of that has changed in the last week or so. He has leapt forward with manual dexterity and it is worth reporting on. Over the last few weeks he has started to clench, grasp and grab with his left hand and slap and push with his right. He can even flick images on an iphone, though he quickly looses interest and we expect that he is holding out for the iphone 5. His left hand can hold rattles, rings, toys, fingers, and put all of them into his mouth. He can shake his play gym and he can even, when in a good mood grasp his bottle.
His right hand used to just flap up and down uselessly but now he lashes out with unerring accuracy. He can push his bottle away when he has had enough. He can hit all of the rattles on his play chair, he can smack his knees with delight, at the right times and at the same time as smiling and laughing. So the icing on the cake came when he opened his fists at mini-music and while he didn't quite clap, he didn't actively resist. Well he is only four months old. He has also developed an affinity for one of the songs that they sing in Mini-Music. It's called 'Forwards and Backwards' and it calms him instantly. He can be crying and screaming and he will stop when he hears this song. It use to take a lot more work, now its just one song, making the Mini-Music worth every penny and a lot more! He can also shake the rattle properly now, not in beat, or even when there is music playing but progress is progress.
Two other items of note swimming and babysitting. While on holiday in a hotel it was the turn of a local Primary school teacher who we contacted through an agency. The role of a Babysitter is long established and both Ciara and I have babysat in our day. But how would it work in a single room? There was no downstairs to move to or kitchen to raid. The lady was a pro. She breezed in, took one look at Max, they smiled at each other and she turned to us, so much as to say 'off you go'. The only question she had was 'where is the internet connection?' We came back three hours later to a happy sleeping baby.
Another non-typical set up was last Saturday. Grandad flew solo and looked after Max for the whole evening. He walked up and down with him on his shoulder, he peered in at the cot and listened very closely for the proof of life. His dedication was admirable and his unflappableness remarkable. Max enjoyed the whole experience and slept very well. He has been consistently good for babysitters. Though in fairness they have been very good for him. From Ennis, Dublin and Cork they have all been professionals. They have not brought their boyfriends around, they have not smoked drugs, they have not eaten all the food in the fridge and they have looked after our little man wonderfully!
On holiday I also got a chance to swim with Max. It was amazing. He has no fear of water and will swim (supported) on his back and front. He even goes under water and his face is delightful. He scrunches his mouth into a pout and closes his eyes so tight that it looks like he is bowing a massive bassoon or contemplating a particularly difficult bowel motion. Ciara has done fantastic work with Max and he knows his floating from his swimming and his gripping the side of the pool from his diving in. Key lessons. He was very popular in the pool, one small girl with a pair of floating arm-bands bigger than her head came up to me and asked very sweetly could she play with Max. She explained that she like babies and that she liked swimming and saw no reason why she couldn't marry the two likes. When I explained that Max was a bit tired and had to go, I could see her look of skepticism and disbelief. Here was another adult telling her things she couldn't do. Max then solved the problem of breaking a small girl's trust by rubbing his eyes and yawning. I had plausible deniability and he did sleep long and hard that afternoon - almost all the way through his visit to Fota Wildlife Park.
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