The Seventh Month: May
9th
Such a happy boy last night. Sunny Sunday evening, lush garden: lilac blooming, white hawthorn flower. You sat in the breeze, sighing at the wind. You love holding leaves and flowers, twisting, turning and examining them. I showed you the parsley and rosemary and Mia miaowing. You talk to the cats, exclaiming excitedly when they pass – now you can squeal and squeak in a high voice, different to your low growls and babbles.
I've often imagined a film camera filming from your point of view as you lie in the pram in the garden; a view of washing flapping in the breeze as you wake up or sleep, of the sounds you hear as you drift into wakefulness in the garden, the zoom of a scooter pelting up the cycle track behind the house, my voice coming up behind you as you cry yourself awake, the breeze playing with your pudgy feet and hands. I wonder what it's like to be a little one lying in a pram with lots of unknown sounds and new sensations around and big people high above you.
You sit and bounce up and down on your haunches, smiling at your face in the mirror, sometimes taking a forward dive and banging your head on the floor. You love to sit on my bended knees when I lie down. We go up and down and you chuckle away. I love your smiling eyes. I was so happy yesterday – we were at home playing in the house and garden. I held you in the bath while you splashed and kicked, the warm water always calms you down when you are tired and crotchety at the end of the day. Happy willy fondling before bath time yesterday!
16th
You were 6 months old on May 3rd. We put 6 ½ candles in a slice of lemon almond cake! I’ve offered you a few foods in the last fortnight: mashed carrot, pureed sweet potato, avocado and banana. Sometimes mixed with breast milk, but on the whole you’ve not been too interested, spitting out the lumps, although you have swallowed minute amounts of banana and pear. I first gave you pieces of avocado and sweet potato to hold. You enjoyed mashing them between your fingers and spreading them on the table.
We stayed at the Bear Hotel, Crickhowell at the weekend. You slept surprisingly well in the hotel’s travel cot. I went to pick you up at 4am to find you sitting up in the cot – amazing, the first time you’ve done this. You seem to like sleeping on your side or front these days and can wriggle around quite well.
20th
Bottom right tooth came through this week. You’ve been grumbling and miserable, crying inconsolably first thing in the morning and once you’ve gone to bed. Poor little love, you’re not yourself at all – the happy, amiable soul you’ve been up to now. I left you sitting on the floor with the will solicitor today (in our sitting room) and you looked so unsure when I left the room, the first time you’ve complained when you’ve been left momentarily with a stranger.
27th
We played and had a feed in the garden today. You are so lively and grown up these days. You climb on me like a little mammal creature that you are. I love the way you nuzzle your head into my chest when you’re hungry and lie across my cross-legged lap to feed. You put your hand to my breast and pinch me some times or push my flesh, maybe to get the milk to flow quicker. Such a hot day (24C?) You rolled about with your nappy off in the shade next to the bed of rosemary and parsley, chewing the ribbon attached to your mat and squawking at the pussycats. I held you by your hands and you pulled yourself up on your strong legs, as you have for a few weeks. You are so happy and proud of yourself. This morning I helped you stand in your cot holding onto the side. You’re so clever, and not even 7 months yet. You fill me with delight and laughter with all your lovely ways.
The other day when we bathed to together I lay back as you sat between my knees, and you stretched yourself on top of me and started suckling from my breast. It was the most delightful thing and made me laugh. I wish I had a poet’s gift to express my delight and wonder in your special self. You are so obviously your own little person and I read all your ways and expressions as well as I can. You’re always up for a giggle when I tickle you or put my face right up to yours and speak in a funny voice, as I did this morning while queuing in Sainsbury’s, as you lay awake so patiently in your pushchair.
A few difficult nights. P. away paragliding in Austria. T. taking 2 hours or so to settle at bedtime. The first two nights alone I went to bed at 9pm to feed you to sleep (tried to watch TV adaptation of Meera Syal’s novel ‘Life’s not all Ha Ha Hee Hee). I left you crying for 10 minutes while I finished dinner hurriedly to come and sleep with you, to discover you had got your little head wedged in the 10cm gap between the bedside cot mattress and our mattress. Did I feel bad…
29th
How can I describe the delightful presence of your being…the smell of your luscious skin where I bury my face in your neck…your fleshy arms, and little piggy toes, your large dimpled hands (sculptor’s hands Sophie says)…your Cumberland sausage things. When you are asleep I appreciate you in a different way. You are still enough for me to look at your face and study your features; still enough to stroke your downy, smooth skin, to hold your hands and stroke your head – all of which I do when you are in your half-sleep crying state, tossing and turning, on all fours, and from one side to the other, as if you are searching for the perfect state of sleep, bottom in the air, burrowing into the pillow. Tonight you slept for an hour before waking (7.20pm-8.20pm). I could draw you in the evening light that crept through our bedroom curtain. When you awoke I held you in my arms, your head on my chest, rocking and singing to you, before lying beside you and stroking your head.
Such a happy boy last night. Sunny Sunday evening, lush garden: lilac blooming, white hawthorn flower. You sat in the breeze, sighing at the wind. You love holding leaves and flowers, twisting, turning and examining them. I showed you the parsley and rosemary and Mia miaowing. You talk to the cats, exclaiming excitedly when they pass – now you can squeal and squeak in a high voice, different to your low growls and babbles.
I've often imagined a film camera filming from your point of view as you lie in the pram in the garden; a view of washing flapping in the breeze as you wake up or sleep, of the sounds you hear as you drift into wakefulness in the garden, the zoom of a scooter pelting up the cycle track behind the house, my voice coming up behind you as you cry yourself awake, the breeze playing with your pudgy feet and hands. I wonder what it's like to be a little one lying in a pram with lots of unknown sounds and new sensations around and big people high above you.
You sit and bounce up and down on your haunches, smiling at your face in the mirror, sometimes taking a forward dive and banging your head on the floor. You love to sit on my bended knees when I lie down. We go up and down and you chuckle away. I love your smiling eyes. I was so happy yesterday – we were at home playing in the house and garden. I held you in the bath while you splashed and kicked, the warm water always calms you down when you are tired and crotchety at the end of the day. Happy willy fondling before bath time yesterday!
16th
You were 6 months old on May 3rd. We put 6 ½ candles in a slice of lemon almond cake! I’ve offered you a few foods in the last fortnight: mashed carrot, pureed sweet potato, avocado and banana. Sometimes mixed with breast milk, but on the whole you’ve not been too interested, spitting out the lumps, although you have swallowed minute amounts of banana and pear. I first gave you pieces of avocado and sweet potato to hold. You enjoyed mashing them between your fingers and spreading them on the table.
We stayed at the Bear Hotel, Crickhowell at the weekend. You slept surprisingly well in the hotel’s travel cot. I went to pick you up at 4am to find you sitting up in the cot – amazing, the first time you’ve done this. You seem to like sleeping on your side or front these days and can wriggle around quite well.
20th
Bottom right tooth came through this week. You’ve been grumbling and miserable, crying inconsolably first thing in the morning and once you’ve gone to bed. Poor little love, you’re not yourself at all – the happy, amiable soul you’ve been up to now. I left you sitting on the floor with the will solicitor today (in our sitting room) and you looked so unsure when I left the room, the first time you’ve complained when you’ve been left momentarily with a stranger.
27th
We played and had a feed in the garden today. You are so lively and grown up these days. You climb on me like a little mammal creature that you are. I love the way you nuzzle your head into my chest when you’re hungry and lie across my cross-legged lap to feed. You put your hand to my breast and pinch me some times or push my flesh, maybe to get the milk to flow quicker. Such a hot day (24C?) You rolled about with your nappy off in the shade next to the bed of rosemary and parsley, chewing the ribbon attached to your mat and squawking at the pussycats. I held you by your hands and you pulled yourself up on your strong legs, as you have for a few weeks. You are so happy and proud of yourself. This morning I helped you stand in your cot holding onto the side. You’re so clever, and not even 7 months yet. You fill me with delight and laughter with all your lovely ways.
The other day when we bathed to together I lay back as you sat between my knees, and you stretched yourself on top of me and started suckling from my breast. It was the most delightful thing and made me laugh. I wish I had a poet’s gift to express my delight and wonder in your special self. You are so obviously your own little person and I read all your ways and expressions as well as I can. You’re always up for a giggle when I tickle you or put my face right up to yours and speak in a funny voice, as I did this morning while queuing in Sainsbury’s, as you lay awake so patiently in your pushchair.
A few difficult nights. P. away paragliding in Austria. T. taking 2 hours or so to settle at bedtime. The first two nights alone I went to bed at 9pm to feed you to sleep (tried to watch TV adaptation of Meera Syal’s novel ‘Life’s not all Ha Ha Hee Hee). I left you crying for 10 minutes while I finished dinner hurriedly to come and sleep with you, to discover you had got your little head wedged in the 10cm gap between the bedside cot mattress and our mattress. Did I feel bad…
29th
How can I describe the delightful presence of your being…the smell of your luscious skin where I bury my face in your neck…your fleshy arms, and little piggy toes, your large dimpled hands (sculptor’s hands Sophie says)…your Cumberland sausage things. When you are asleep I appreciate you in a different way. You are still enough for me to look at your face and study your features; still enough to stroke your downy, smooth skin, to hold your hands and stroke your head – all of which I do when you are in your half-sleep crying state, tossing and turning, on all fours, and from one side to the other, as if you are searching for the perfect state of sleep, bottom in the air, burrowing into the pillow. Tonight you slept for an hour before waking (7.20pm-8.20pm). I could draw you in the evening light that crept through our bedroom curtain. When you awoke I held you in my arms, your head on my chest, rocking and singing to you, before lying beside you and stroking your head.
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