My time spent with the baby can best be described as me waiting for him to fall asleep followed by me waiting for him to wake up, several times a day.
When you don’t want the kids to wake the baby up so you keep shouting at them to talk quietly.
So far Oskar smiled at the “funny guy with a beard” and the “girl with a squeaky voice”. The “boy with a goofy face” got half a smile. No smiles for the “food container”. I’m not even sure Oskar cares that I have a face.
Oskar’s a very appreciative and thoughtful baby. He expresses his gratitude for everything I do by giving me the only gifts he can.
I feed him – he poos.
I burp him – he poos.
I put him to sleep – he poos.
I change his clothes – he poos.
I change his pooey nappy – he poos.
Sometimes, while I’m changing him, if he thinks I’m doing an exceptionally good job, he pees on me, on himself and on the rest of the room.
Then, to thank me for cleaning it all up – he poos.
We have a newborn in the house!
Learning from my mistakes, I’m going to do some things differently in this recovery period. I’ll ask for help, I won’t overdo it and I’ll sleep when the baby sleeps. Which means from 02:09 till 02:38.
Molly’s new favourite ways of drinking water (or at least getting water in the proximity of her mouth):
a) putting her hand in Klara’s water bowl then licking the water off the hand and
b) putting her water bottle in Klara’s water bowl and trying to drink from it.
I was tidying up the kitchen with my back turned to Molly when I heard her laugh out loud. She was taking sips of water and spitting them back out.
I thought I probably shouldn’t encourage her to play with food but it did seem like a lot of fun so I was torn between telling her to stop and laughing along. I chose to smile with my back turned away from her. Until I decided that her happy, throaty laugh and that moment, in general, were too precious to miss just for a sake of discipline so I took out my camera and filmed it all.
A neighbour commented today on “how big our son was” and the woman whose dog Klara sometimes plays with told me that “our boy has really nice blonde hair”.
It doesn’t bother me at all that people mistake Molly for a boy, but I talked to these particular people about Molly at least 10 times in the last year. Maybe my German’s way worse than I thought.
Klara doesn’t sneak into the kitchen while we’re eating breakfast to secretly eat whatever food Molly’s dropped anymore. She now lies comfortably under Molly’s chair, waiting for Molly to actively throw her the food.
All three of us had toast and eggs for breakfast.
A year ago we woke up in a hospital next to a tiny, wrinkly, helpless baby, feeling very confused about what to do with her. Since then we’ve been watching her grow and learn and change a little every day while learning and changing ourselves.
It was the most challenging and amazing year.
We love you, Molly. You’re great. Happy first birthday!