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.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
finding my feet
Finding ones feet is quite the achievement! Max has managed to fold in half and Grab hold of his toes. If he has socks on at the time, they don't stay on for long. If he is in his gro-bag then the whole bag is grabbed. It's fun to watch. He can really only use his left arm properly. His right arm doesn't seem to reach as far. This could mean that a future of left arm dominance lies ahead for our Max and that a future of smudged writing is also his lot.
The added benefit of the feet finding is the potential for rolling. It is the next natural step. He folds up and rolls over. Now all his has to do is learn how to control this movement and reverse it and we are in real trouble. No longer can he be left for a moment on the changing table, no longer for a second on the bed. I'm going to have to up my organisational game to ensure there is no going back for things. Another developmental step is Max no longer bouncing as well as he used to when he falls.
Teething has begun. There are no red cheeks and dodgy nappies but there is loads of drool and a huge amount of gnawing. Our fingers are kept very clean attempt moment as they are his favourite chew sticks. We have Sofi the Giraffe, a teething ring and several other toys that have plastic bits for exactly this purpose, but no, Max prefers the finger. We tried Bonjella for the first time today and that seemed to work. We are waiting for a repeat to prove its effectiveness, it could have been a fluke.
I have also noticed a similarity between iPhones and babies. They know instinctively which way up they are. Max can be fast asleep on my shoulder and when I put him down it takes two seconds for the internal gyroscope to kick in and he curls his bottom lip and wails. This could be gastric reflux, coldness or just a reluctance to be separated from his parents or grand parents. Whatever the case, it's both amazing and infuriating!
We also invested the little guy into the Roman Catholic church. It was a lovely ceremony with the usual components and some readings that Ciara selected. There are some obvious questions about baptism and whether it's the right thing to do and whether we should support the church with all that went on etc. here is my take on all of that. The church has a very good central message. Be nice to one another and try and do the right thing. This is something that I can sing up to and would like my son to too. There are also many many more fantastic men and women in the church than there are bad ones. Fair enough, the institution handled things really badly but that's no reason to desert it utterly. We shall try and fix from within. well when I say within, I mean near the door, sort of in the porch. I'm not beating a path to the church door every Sunday morning, but then I do manage a prayer or two from Christmas to Christmas.
Max is nearly four months old. As far as I can figure the only important milestone this month is being able to take Bonjella and not a moment too soon!
The added benefit of the feet finding is the potential for rolling. It is the next natural step. He folds up and rolls over. Now all his has to do is learn how to control this movement and reverse it and we are in real trouble. No longer can he be left for a moment on the changing table, no longer for a second on the bed. I'm going to have to up my organisational game to ensure there is no going back for things. Another developmental step is Max no longer bouncing as well as he used to when he falls.
Teething has begun. There are no red cheeks and dodgy nappies but there is loads of drool and a huge amount of gnawing. Our fingers are kept very clean attempt moment as they are his favourite chew sticks. We have Sofi the Giraffe, a teething ring and several other toys that have plastic bits for exactly this purpose, but no, Max prefers the finger. We tried Bonjella for the first time today and that seemed to work. We are waiting for a repeat to prove its effectiveness, it could have been a fluke.
I have also noticed a similarity between iPhones and babies. They know instinctively which way up they are. Max can be fast asleep on my shoulder and when I put him down it takes two seconds for the internal gyroscope to kick in and he curls his bottom lip and wails. This could be gastric reflux, coldness or just a reluctance to be separated from his parents or grand parents. Whatever the case, it's both amazing and infuriating!
We also invested the little guy into the Roman Catholic church. It was a lovely ceremony with the usual components and some readings that Ciara selected. There are some obvious questions about baptism and whether it's the right thing to do and whether we should support the church with all that went on etc. here is my take on all of that. The church has a very good central message. Be nice to one another and try and do the right thing. This is something that I can sing up to and would like my son to too. There are also many many more fantastic men and women in the church than there are bad ones. Fair enough, the institution handled things really badly but that's no reason to desert it utterly. We shall try and fix from within. well when I say within, I mean near the door, sort of in the porch. I'm not beating a path to the church door every Sunday morning, but then I do manage a prayer or two from Christmas to Christmas.
Max is nearly four months old. As far as I can figure the only important milestone this month is being able to take Bonjella and not a moment too soon!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
A big day out
Max's Mum is wonderful, lets be clear about this. Though I blog
about my interactions with Max she looks after his upbringing,
education, nutrition and emotional security on a height that I can only
view from the metaphorical foothills. For those reasons (and because I
went to a big party on Friday night) I took Max yesterday. It went a
bit like this.
We dropped Ciara off at the massage parlour (it is actually a massage parlour, not anything else) at about 9am. Then we drove to the school and I took some photos of the tiny students playing rugby against Willow Park. I planned a cunning walk down the drive and circled around past Spar where I picked up the best coffee in Dublin. I know that there are other pretenders to this throne, but the little coffee machine in the Spar in Rathmines is a blessed fountain of sweet ambrosia.
Then back to the car and off to Mini Music. Mini Music is held in one of the many rooms above the main hall in the National Concert Hall. A wonderful and long suffering lady named Rebecca leads a bunch of 4-12 month olds through a bunch of sweet little songs, while their parents look on. At the beginning I was very skeptical about this class. What could Max possibly get from a bunch of songs, he can't sing, he can't dance, all he does when he hears music is drool and twitch. But I was wrong - he loves it. He doesn't take his eyes off Rebecca from the beginning of the class to the end. He follows her every move. He smiles when he is supposed to smile, he rocks backwards and forwards when he is supposed to and he comes out full of smiles and excitement. When we sing the songs to him during the week, his face lights up! So kids love Mini Music, even 15 week old kids.
We dashed from Mini Music much to the disappointment of the other parents who love to make a whole social event of the the affair. The students were in Rathmines right on time and they started to collect for the Irish Autism Society. They were selling bands for €1 and roses for €2. They were wearing their full uniforms and the little old ladies of Rathmines bought roses, left, right and center. I helped by marshaling the troops and by alternating feeding and walking Max. Max took to this strange change in his schedule with ease. He smiled at all the collectors, he grinned at the old ladies and he took the bottle first time, both times. First it was breast milk and the second was formula. The staff and customers in the Kylemore Cafe were simply lovely. They took pity on an overwhelmed father and they carried my tray and got me milk and warmed a bottle. I had a coffee and a sugary bun, that had enough glucose to kill a weaker man.
Max drank, ate, burped and smiled away the afternoon. He talked and he gurgled at everything that went on and made his father's life very easy. The students came and went on the hour and at 3pm we finished up. Max even waited while his dad had a sandwich and a can of coke, though he seemed quite concerned that I didn't need to burp afterwards.
I thought that my working day was hard. I thought that looking after students was tiring. Dear Lord, I was wrong. The energy of watching each twitch and move of Max, the nervous observation of his every breath is exhausting. So the evening went by with my new admiration for Ciara and all of her day to day care for Max. We had a big day out and I look forward to many more. But here is a quick personal memo. Never have a big day out after a big night out. I need another two or three weekends to recover.
We dropped Ciara off at the massage parlour (it is actually a massage parlour, not anything else) at about 9am. Then we drove to the school and I took some photos of the tiny students playing rugby against Willow Park. I planned a cunning walk down the drive and circled around past Spar where I picked up the best coffee in Dublin. I know that there are other pretenders to this throne, but the little coffee machine in the Spar in Rathmines is a blessed fountain of sweet ambrosia.
Then back to the car and off to Mini Music. Mini Music is held in one of the many rooms above the main hall in the National Concert Hall. A wonderful and long suffering lady named Rebecca leads a bunch of 4-12 month olds through a bunch of sweet little songs, while their parents look on. At the beginning I was very skeptical about this class. What could Max possibly get from a bunch of songs, he can't sing, he can't dance, all he does when he hears music is drool and twitch. But I was wrong - he loves it. He doesn't take his eyes off Rebecca from the beginning of the class to the end. He follows her every move. He smiles when he is supposed to smile, he rocks backwards and forwards when he is supposed to and he comes out full of smiles and excitement. When we sing the songs to him during the week, his face lights up! So kids love Mini Music, even 15 week old kids.
We dashed from Mini Music much to the disappointment of the other parents who love to make a whole social event of the the affair. The students were in Rathmines right on time and they started to collect for the Irish Autism Society. They were selling bands for €1 and roses for €2. They were wearing their full uniforms and the little old ladies of Rathmines bought roses, left, right and center. I helped by marshaling the troops and by alternating feeding and walking Max. Max took to this strange change in his schedule with ease. He smiled at all the collectors, he grinned at the old ladies and he took the bottle first time, both times. First it was breast milk and the second was formula. The staff and customers in the Kylemore Cafe were simply lovely. They took pity on an overwhelmed father and they carried my tray and got me milk and warmed a bottle. I had a coffee and a sugary bun, that had enough glucose to kill a weaker man.
Max drank, ate, burped and smiled away the afternoon. He talked and he gurgled at everything that went on and made his father's life very easy. The students came and went on the hour and at 3pm we finished up. Max even waited while his dad had a sandwich and a can of coke, though he seemed quite concerned that I didn't need to burp afterwards.
I thought that my working day was hard. I thought that looking after students was tiring. Dear Lord, I was wrong. The energy of watching each twitch and move of Max, the nervous observation of his every breath is exhausting. So the evening went by with my new admiration for Ciara and all of her day to day care for Max. We had a big day out and I look forward to many more. But here is a quick personal memo. Never have a big day out after a big night out. I need another two or three weekends to recover.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Three things that I find remarkable
Max is developing at a rate of fifty new things a second. He is gaining new skills and moves and noises and facial expressions. It is all going at about 400 kph.
I choose these three to titillate you with. Titillate literally as the first concerns the breast. This will require a little background for the non lactating reader. The milk, once the latch has all been sorted out comes naturally. But to make things more difficult, there are two types of milk. The fore milk and the hind milk. The fore milk is kind of an amuse bouche, a taste of things to come, a small sample of what the chef is capable of given the right restaurant and a bucket of cash. The fore milk is tasty and nice, but that is about it. The hind milk is your bowl of spuds with a load of butter on top. It is yorkshire puddings and lashings of gravy. The hind milk develops as the baby sucks and he loves the hind milk. The hind milk release can be stimulated and encouraged by pressing the breast. Max is wise to this game. While breastfeeding he now bashes the breast to make the hind milk come faster. The comedy of this is his lack of coordination and the less than delicate slaps that he gives the breast. When he settles down he just places his little fist high up on the breast and clenches and unclenches his fist. The true hilarity and rolling around on the floor laughing, as it goes, is when he does it to me when he is bottle feeding. I know I am a little overweight but moobs, really?
The second thing to talk about is his words. He can now squeal with delight (major developmental goal - tick) he can say g, o, a, w, h, and now n. He is about a quarter the way through the alphabet. He is very good at turn taking during conversation and he really tries to copy what you say. His Nana and Nanny (either sides of the family, very different to avoid confusion) have great success with getting Max to talk. They click, coo and warble and screech like mad women and he warbles, screeches and coos right back at them. He cant click yet, but it is only a matter of time. He will talk when there are no other pressures on him. When the nappy is empty, the belly full and the mind rested he will be a little chatty man but once the delicate three way balance is upset, it is only whining and then wailing. That's ok though because getting him talking again is a perfect way of stopping the crying. I still try and talk to him in adult language, the EU's English as it were, but the odd wooo and brpppp and woogie woo gets a much bigger and better response.
The final aspect of this evenings blog is "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles". This is a perfect example of Pavlovian science. Ciara worked hard at getting Max to hold his head up while being picked up. Each time she would hold his hands and lift him and cry "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles". He would be told he was a good boy if his head was held straight. Now the child gets twitchy if he hears the number 1. He is tense as a board if he hears the number 2 next and if you get to 3 his back arches and if you are holding his hands he will bear weight on his legs and with your support stand straight up. Try it. It works.
I'm thinking that if he can be trained to do this so quickly, if he can understand this system of complex noises so quickly what else should we teach him. Well the first thing is going to be his name. Oh yes he responds to "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles" but does he turn his head when you call his name. No way. He continues doing what he is doing happily oblivious. Maybe we should have called him "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles" and that would have made life much easier. I hope that he shakes this training off because if his first teacher says 1-2-3 he is going to stand bolt upright and be the laughing stock of the class! I'm sure he'll know what to do, he is very advanced after all.
I choose these three to titillate you with. Titillate literally as the first concerns the breast. This will require a little background for the non lactating reader. The milk, once the latch has all been sorted out comes naturally. But to make things more difficult, there are two types of milk. The fore milk and the hind milk. The fore milk is kind of an amuse bouche, a taste of things to come, a small sample of what the chef is capable of given the right restaurant and a bucket of cash. The fore milk is tasty and nice, but that is about it. The hind milk is your bowl of spuds with a load of butter on top. It is yorkshire puddings and lashings of gravy. The hind milk develops as the baby sucks and he loves the hind milk. The hind milk release can be stimulated and encouraged by pressing the breast. Max is wise to this game. While breastfeeding he now bashes the breast to make the hind milk come faster. The comedy of this is his lack of coordination and the less than delicate slaps that he gives the breast. When he settles down he just places his little fist high up on the breast and clenches and unclenches his fist. The true hilarity and rolling around on the floor laughing, as it goes, is when he does it to me when he is bottle feeding. I know I am a little overweight but moobs, really?
The second thing to talk about is his words. He can now squeal with delight (major developmental goal - tick) he can say g, o, a, w, h, and now n. He is about a quarter the way through the alphabet. He is very good at turn taking during conversation and he really tries to copy what you say. His Nana and Nanny (either sides of the family, very different to avoid confusion) have great success with getting Max to talk. They click, coo and warble and screech like mad women and he warbles, screeches and coos right back at them. He cant click yet, but it is only a matter of time. He will talk when there are no other pressures on him. When the nappy is empty, the belly full and the mind rested he will be a little chatty man but once the delicate three way balance is upset, it is only whining and then wailing. That's ok though because getting him talking again is a perfect way of stopping the crying. I still try and talk to him in adult language, the EU's English as it were, but the odd wooo and brpppp and woogie woo gets a much bigger and better response.
The final aspect of this evenings blog is "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles". This is a perfect example of Pavlovian science. Ciara worked hard at getting Max to hold his head up while being picked up. Each time she would hold his hands and lift him and cry "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles". He would be told he was a good boy if his head was held straight. Now the child gets twitchy if he hears the number 1. He is tense as a board if he hears the number 2 next and if you get to 3 his back arches and if you are holding his hands he will bear weight on his legs and with your support stand straight up. Try it. It works.
I'm thinking that if he can be trained to do this so quickly, if he can understand this system of complex noises so quickly what else should we teach him. Well the first thing is going to be his name. Oh yes he responds to "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles" but does he turn his head when you call his name. No way. He continues doing what he is doing happily oblivious. Maybe we should have called him "1 - 2 - 3 upsie doodles" and that would have made life much easier. I hope that he shakes this training off because if his first teacher says 1-2-3 he is going to stand bolt upright and be the laughing stock of the class! I'm sure he'll know what to do, he is very advanced after all.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A personality emergent
So it turns out that as a baby grows, gets older and all of his relatives tell us that he is getting bigger by the minute, he is also growing a personality.
His behaviour before has had an edge to it, a pattern, a focus so we thought that was it. But now he is really working that smile, really frowning and really talking. So the sounds are gibberish but the delight that he has at being listened to is infectious! He will say something, we will respond and he will say something longer and louder. We respond again that bit louder and the crescendo builds up until he is squealing with delight!
I think it is the success of the character Stewie in Family Guy that his words are heard and responded to but clearly not understood. That's what it must be like for Max. Maybe he is saying things like. I love you guys and I like it here but that teddy bear is giving me nightmares, if you could get rid of that I'd be thrilled. Or perhaps it's as simple as when you put on my nappy you are making it just a shade tight. If you could loosen it a bit I'd be much happier.
We are trained by this experience that nothing will ever be done by people about the hundreds of minor irritations that plague us as adults. Oh yes, they will smile, nod and even respond but they will do nothing.
Max the chatty man. I just hope he is saying nice happy things. I think that he is probably just saying feelings. I'm comfortable, I like that face, that noise, no not that one, the last one, do that again. I am warm and happy. I am getting hungry, I am wet, why?
But it's the cheeky grin that gives the personality away. That grin could win over even the most cold hearted stone of a man. His parents are soppy sentimentalists so unless we play it carefully he will run rings around us!
On a more practical note: the routine is going well but it needs a tweak with an eleven o'clock feed. He is nearly into the 3-6 month old clothes right on schedule and all goes well in the outgoing department!
A quiet week of watching a little man come out from the body of a baby.
His behaviour before has had an edge to it, a pattern, a focus so we thought that was it. But now he is really working that smile, really frowning and really talking. So the sounds are gibberish but the delight that he has at being listened to is infectious! He will say something, we will respond and he will say something longer and louder. We respond again that bit louder and the crescendo builds up until he is squealing with delight!
I think it is the success of the character Stewie in Family Guy that his words are heard and responded to but clearly not understood. That's what it must be like for Max. Maybe he is saying things like. I love you guys and I like it here but that teddy bear is giving me nightmares, if you could get rid of that I'd be thrilled. Or perhaps it's as simple as when you put on my nappy you are making it just a shade tight. If you could loosen it a bit I'd be much happier.
We are trained by this experience that nothing will ever be done by people about the hundreds of minor irritations that plague us as adults. Oh yes, they will smile, nod and even respond but they will do nothing.
Max the chatty man. I just hope he is saying nice happy things. I think that he is probably just saying feelings. I'm comfortable, I like that face, that noise, no not that one, the last one, do that again. I am warm and happy. I am getting hungry, I am wet, why?
But it's the cheeky grin that gives the personality away. That grin could win over even the most cold hearted stone of a man. His parents are soppy sentimentalists so unless we play it carefully he will run rings around us!
On a more practical note: the routine is going well but it needs a tweak with an eleven o'clock feed. He is nearly into the 3-6 month old clothes right on schedule and all goes well in the outgoing department!
A quiet week of watching a little man come out from the body of a baby.
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