Raising Zane

The Ninth Month

2012-01-22T19:58:00.000-08:00

Body awareness

Up until recently Zane really only recognised andconsciously operated two prime parts of his body: his left hand and his mouth,the former being the lynchpin in the act of getting as much food into thelatter as possible. Everything else seemed to be bodily attachments that were just“there”, doing their own thing, without him paying any real attention to them: hisneck was something that held up his head and collected dribble; his right armwas an occasional assistant to the left when slippery pieces of food needed tobe manipulated; his bum was something that provided cushioning when he sat, andwhich vibrated once in a while; and his feet were strange distant appendagesthat flashed into view whenever he got excited. But this month he made a numberof discoveries...

Now, both of hishands can be used to make noise! With the correct timing and accurate aim,connecting two flat hands together at high velocity creates a clattering sound andprovides immense enjoyment. And clapping does not require kitchen utensils tomake a happy din. It’s even more fun when he can join in with others: when weare watching TV and there is applause on the show that is being broadcast, Zaneclaps along as though he is part of the television audience, producing surroundsound for us. It’s better than Dolby.

He has a belly! After a meal he resembles a bonsai Buddha,with a big round belly protruding from above his trousers and from under histop. Zane now appreciates his stomach, the Collector of Food, by happilylooking down upon his magnificent protrusion and pats it heartily with bothhands after a meal.

And Zane has found his willy. Admittedly, it is hidden fromview by his nappy most of the time, but once when he was sitting on the floornaked, he looked down and noticed a curious new bodily accessory. Naturally, hehad a bit of a fiddle with it to try and ascertain its purpose but once thatminute had passed, he was just content to hang on to it and move his attention elsewhere.

Can you do this?

Try this: sit on the floor with your legs in front of you,and then fold your body over so your head is on the floor between your feet.Too easy? Now go to sleep for several hours inthat position.

Or this: kneel in front of a wall, resting your handsagainst it slightly above your head, arms rigid, and then straighten your legswith only your toes on the floor, keeping your torso from sagging.

Another challenge: from a sitting position grab one foot andbring it to your mouth, while staying in an upright position...at the dinner table

Do you find any of these difficult? If you can do them, youare probably a black belt yoga master, or a baby.

Sound effects

Zane creates some noises that don’t seem appropriate for ababy. It’s funny when we hear them, but then we think, “Where did he get thatfrom?” One of these sound effects would be at home on an alien film, and ourboy achieves with when his mouth is full of excess saliva, which is pretty muchduring his every waking hour. Essentially he sucks air in through a pool ofdribble seated on his tongue, creating a bubbling noise; the first time I heardit I found it disturbing as it reminded me of the sound that Hannibal Lectermade in Silence of the Lambs, and caused me to look quickly at the source: myson innocently combining air and spit for his aural enjoyment.

He also has a giggle that has a slightly evilaura to it, a snigger that he unleashes occasionally when he is a littlehyperactive or over-excited. It’s a low pitched and slightly manic“herherherherher”, a wicked chuckle that says, “Give me that banana now,or the phone gets it”.

In the boy's eyes: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Eighth Month

2011-12-18T04:42:00.000-08:00

Going bananas

As I ate a banana one day, Zane looked at it intently, tensed his arms and made a panicky groaning noise, actions we’ve come to associate with Zane wanting something (mostly food). We hadn’t given him any banana before so I gave him a nibble to see if he liked it. He more than liked it: I never actually got to have any more of that banana! He never relinquished it, and he hungrily devoured it as though he had never tasted anything so marvellous before and that it was the last one he would ever have. I fetched myself another, took a bite, and again Zane looked as though he might explode. I gave him more, which resulted in him simply eating the rest. This was repeated yet again, after which I gave up. From three bananas, I had managed four bites; Zane had eaten the rest.

Since then he has been nuts about bananas, often impatiently gulping two in one sitting. We timed him once: he ate a banana in four minutes. I must check the Babies Banana Consumption section of Guinness Book of Records to see how he compares. And not only does he like to eat the bendy yellow fruit, he loves playing with the remnants. He’ll attempt rudimentary flight with the floppy banana skins, holding one in each hand and wildly flapping them up and down, looking at us joyfully, on a banana high, as though he fully expects lift-off at any moment.

Zane’s banana-eating ability captures attention. The sight of a baby ably holding a banana and consuming it at speed surprises strangers who – I guess – expect someone his age being spoon-fed baby puree. We were on a busy ferry and Zane entertained an amazed audience of fellow passengers who simply could not take their eyes of him as he systematically demolished the fruit. People craned their necks to see the little man in action, and then nudged their friends to take a look. The eyebrows of our captive audience raised further when I took out a second banana, peeled it (perhaps a little theatrically) and gave it to Zane.

Talented and nosey

Zane is getting clever. Handling food is becoming easy for him, so much so that he can multi-task. For example, he can hold food in each hand with his left steadily pushing it into his mouth, while the right gently rotates back and forth as he studies the food item from all angles. At one point he exceeded himself and managed to do three things at once as Jas held him: while he was (1) eating a grape, he had the additional coordination capacity to (2) give her a hug, pulling her face close to his. Unfortunately for Jas, whilst hugging and munching on a grape, he (3) sneezed heavily in Jas’ face. I wish I had videoed the spectacle – it would have provided me with hours of entertainment. Jas didn’t quite agree.

Our boy has a strong need to know what is going on about him. During his morning breastfeed I really have to sit down and do absolutely nothing. If I am busying about doing anything vaguely interesting like putting the kettle on, putting some dishes away or – most importantly of all – preparing his next breakfast course, he’ll de-latch from the boob and watch me. And he won’t bother sitting up to review my actions: he’ll simply stop feeding, throw his head back so his body is arched and he is looking at me upside-down, with one hand on the breast to prevent it from going anywhere. He’ll stay in that position until he is happy with what I am doing, or until I look at him to acknowledge that my every move is being studied. Then he’ll pull himself up and resume his feed.

Packing

We try to get out and about with Zane as much as we can: he loves seeing new scenes and new people. In much the same way as a dog might get madly excited at the sound of its leash being taken off the hook by the door in readiness for a walk in the park, Zane literally vibrates with excitement when he sees me donning the baby carrier, and he makes it difficult to secure him in it as his legs thrash about like a fish out of water. Once he is installed in the carrier (facing outwards), and once we are outside, his eyes hungrily take in everything about him as though he’ll be given an observation test upon our return. And the legs keep kicking.

Any outdoor sojourn longer than a five minutes, however, requires extensive planning and packing. Preparing for an afternoon hike is equivalent to embarking on an ascent on Everest, packing enough supplies and equipment that will meet every potential eventuality, every change in weather, every pang of hunger, and requiring a Sherpa and a couple of mules to lug our luggage for us. One day we went out for an afternoon hike, and our packed food consisted of two sandwiches, two bananas, an apple, a bunch of grapes, an egg, some chicken, some cheese and a few rusks. The sandwiches were for Jas and I; the rest was for Zane.

Little habits

As Zane cannot communicate with words, it is interesting to see how he gets his message across, or expresses his emotions, using his body.

Ever since he was tiny Zane rotated his feet, occasionally rolling his ankles in a relaxed fashion to – I guess – exercise the lower extremities of his body. He now does it when he gets excited about something (normally the prospect of a meal being served) and his hands also join in. When he spies the approach of a plate of food his body tenses, the eyes bulge, his arms and legs extend out straight in front of him and his hands and feet spin at high speed; it’s as though each of his limbs turned into a propeller and the motor has fired into life creating a whirling blur.

As much as Zane likes to eat, we know when he has enough. Most humans merely stop eating when they are done. If Zane were to simply cease imitating a front-end loader when he has a bowl of food in front of him, it would be enough to indicate to us that he is full. But no: he likes to pick up his bowl (normally still containing food remnants), hold it aloft like a champion’s trophy and then turn it upside down, emptying it of all its contents. If he is sitting on a table-top, the scattering of food on the table all around him prompts him to kick his legs about like a pair of possessed windscreen wipers. Unlike windscreen wipers, however, he makes the situation worse and he squashes and spreads the food around even more, creating angel-wing shapes with it. Most of his actions are learned from copying me or Jas, but these dinner distribution actions must have come to him in some food-filled dream.

When adults tire they generally slow down, their energy depleting until it is time to recharge and go to sleep. Why do little ones go crazy and act drunk when they are exhausted? If Zane could walk he would be dangerous when he is fatigued. As Zane becomes overtired he becomes hyperactive and starts flapping his arms and legs frantically as though he is trying to propel himself along the bed on his back. The kicking and flapping speeds up until his limbs become a blur; any toy that is in his hand at the time shakes so much that it starts to fall apart. Faster and faster he’ll flap, his bed shaking and the walls vibrating, and just at the point where the sheets start to smoke from the friction, he’ll suddenly stop, as if he’d just blown a fuse, and he’ll be instantly and peacefully asleep.

The Invisible Parent

Zane is incredibly popular. Wherever we go, people stop and smile and say how cute he is, and maybe tickle his feet. Strangers even ask to take photos of him! Many have the interesting habit of talking to him without even acknowledging Jas or I - the parent who happens to be attached to him at the time of the meeting. They’ll smile at Zane as though he is the only person within eyesight and the first question is nearly always “How old are you, then?” to which Jas or I will say “Seven months”. Still they ogle at our boy: to them, Zane is a skilled ventriloquist operating a large and uninteresting puppet (Jas/me), as they continue to ask Zane his name, where he is from and where he has been.

Zane's perspective: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Seventh Month

2011-11-01T21:42:00.000-07:00

Time flies, eh?

Zane is six months already! So much change in such a little space of time. I recall – what seems like an eon ago – always having to cradle a little baby to sleep, a little baby with an upset tummy who would only welcome sleep when in a very specific position in the crook of my arm. That position was “The Sleeping Leopard”: he would lay face down on my forearm, his head on the inside of my elbow, limbs dangling and he would whimper. Not only was a particular position required, I had also to be gently moving, swaying like a metronome, walking about the house at a slow and rhythmic pace. Anything else would result in incessant crying. Sitting down to rest to support my aching arm was out of the question, regardless of how slow and careful I was; he would always know when I would try to gently lower myself into our infinitely inviting couch and he would bawl his disapproval, as though he could detect when my arse came within close proximity to a comfortable surface.

It’s completely different now. Then, sleep was hard to come by when he had stomach pains, and he would only cry when in pain or hungry. Now, he just doesn’t want to sleep at all! There is far too much going on for him to sleep and miss out on ultra-important developments in the day, like what I’m having on my sandwich, or what colour socks Jas will put on. Not only that, he has learnt to cry not just to satisfy a primal need, but to get our attention, to be picked up and being given an adult view of what is happening in his little world. And he also now has hair. Not just a downy sheen, a trace of fine follicles that barely look like they are there, but the start of a blonde mane that makes him look like a little boy, no longer a baby, that makes it much more difficult to remove porridge from his head.

It’s all about food

A baby’s learning curve is steep when you think about the skills we humans have, such as being able to pick things up of various size, shape, texture and weight, but Zane is climbing that curve as though it has an escalator installed in it. Like any learning, however, there are mistakes to be made. He is getting very good at holding bottles, and we recently let him pick up his milk bottle rather than hand it to him. We put it on the table in front of him, and he launched his body forward, clumsily grabbed the bottle by the teat and gripped it tightly. The bottle comically shot a fine white stream of liquid at his head, which made Zane pause and look at us with a single milky eye, wondering what had gone wrong in his valiant and impatient effort to feed himself.

Zane seems to want to completely skip learning steps at times. I cut a piece of apple for him, a nice sized piece that he would find easy to grasp in his little fist. I put it on the table in front of him, with the rest of the apple just beyond it. He looked at me, and then leant forward and over the piece I had cut especially for him and grabbed the rest of the apple. He dragged it towards him so he could stab his fangs hungrily into it. Clearly I was taking things too slow for him.

Zane’s enjoyment of food normally equates to a great deal of mess. Unfortunately he doesn’t understand what mess is yet, only that food is fun. If he really gets into a little bowl of porridge, for example, it normally results in Zane looking as though he has bathed in a large bucket of the stuff. He gets food everywhere: we’ve cleaned bits of carrot from behind his ear, yoghurt from his eyes, cucumber that was stuck to his back, pasta from between his toes and rice from within his nappy. Not only does he get food all over himself, he’ll spread it on any clean surface within reach. If I’m holding Zane as he eats a bowl of yoghurt, he will typically pause, look at me, smile a satisfying look-what-I’m-doing kind of smile, and then casually and absent-mindedly rest his yoghurt-dripping hand on my arm, affectionately rubbing it a bit, perhaps to thank me for his meal, or perhaps just to ensure that the yoghurt gets deeply into my pores.

We try to give him as big a range of food as we can, but admittedly I shy away from feeding him some foods whenever I can (and let Jas do it). The main culprits are from the food group I call Adhesive Foods, primarily yoghurt, porridge and Weetabix, those that stick to Zane’s hair, his skin, his eyelashes and between his fingers and toes, often requiring a bath and special tools to remove all traces of it from his person. As Zane takes a while to eat a bowl of food, anything that hasn’t made it into his mouth has dried up by the time he is done. Once dried, yoghurt requires a mild paint-stripper to remove; porridge needs heavy duty sandpaper; and Weetabix – the most powerful Adhesive Food - requires a diamond cutter to remove from surfaces it has been applied to.

Then there are the Migrating Foods, those that seem to find themselves in places far flung from whence it was first given to Zane – in shoes, behind cushions, on the ceiling or on the neighbour’s dog. Prime candidates for this group are rice and couscous. We have only fed couscous to Zane once as we were still finding the little balls about the place weeks after feeding them to him. I’ll be prepared to try giving it to him again once we have a house that contains a specially built clean-room complete with special protective suits, a room secure enough that would permit radioactive materials to be handled inside it.

Night classes

Zane normally lets us know what his developmental needs are: he was very clear in telling us when he was ready to eat food by launching himself at an apple I was enjoying; he simply bawled out when he was laying on his back and wanted to practice sitting up. We discovered one night – at around 3am – that he is practicing other things by stealth. We awoke to gentle grunting, a noise that sounded a bit like a thieving squirrel trying to prise open our window. We peeked down on the little man and found him on his belly. This was unusual in itself as he typically slept on his back, and occasionally on his side. It seemed that he was practicing crawling! He was spending a lot of time getting his butt in the air and then resting, with his face in his hands. He’d then lower his butt and then raise it again, grunting with effort with each elevation, and maybe attempting to propel himself forward a little when he had strength in his arms. We have no idea why he feels the need to improve his crawling as we slept, although he does have a habit of surprising us with the speed with which he advances with certain skills. It certainly explains why he always sleeps in.

Smiling rivalry

Zane and I had a smiling competition. Zane smiled at me, as he often does. Yes, it is nice. I smiled back, as I do. He did it again, a little more cheesily, with both of his lower fangs visible. I did the same. He then cut loose in response, and gave a smile so big that his eyes were almost closed with the effort of pulling the corners of his mouth as high and as far apart as possible. Well, I couldn’t leave it there, and produced a sterling smile that I would have thought would have Zane reeling. But no: he pulled out his big guns. He reproduced his squinting-cheesy-toothy grin, AND tensed his arms in front of him, like a body builder showing off his pectorals, AND groaned happily at the same time. Well, I couldn’t compete with that. My sides had split in laughter.

The boy's words: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Sixth Month

2011-10-06T19:48:00.000-07:00

Entrapment

I can no longer relax. I’ve suddenly noticed that – whenever I am eating – I am being watched. And not just with a passing interest; Zane was intensely following every fork-load of food that I consumed, closely observing the content and progression of my meal, chewing air and drooling every time I put something in my mouth. My every meal-time move was being monitored.

Then one day, as he sat on my lap, watching an apple repeatedly pass over his head as I took a bite out of it, he attacked the core with such vigour that I was caught by surprise: he grabbed it with both hands, pulled it to his mouth, planted his two teeth into it and sucked, covering it in dribble as he did so (rendering it inedible for anyone but Zane). It was like something off a wildlife documentary: a lizard waiting for prey to come within reach before ensnaring it with lightning reflexes, although a lizard doesn’t possess a saliva tsunami weapon with which to drown its prey.

It didn’t stop at the apple. Zane has attacked other foods with a zeal that is rather frightening in a person who can’t even sit up without support. We gave Zane an egg: a whole, peeled boiled egg to see what he would do with it. He tore it apart and ate it all, as though he had done it many times before. That, we were impressed with. We began giving him all types of food. Couscous we weren’t so impressed with: little of it made it into his mouth, and he seemed intent on spreading it as far and as wide as he could. I think I spent the following hour cleaning couscous from Zane, his clothes and from all the furniture in view.

Poser

Zane will now smile in front of the camera. It seems to be one of the first things he has copied from us, and obviously finds it important to look good in all photos. However, he will smile whenever I have a camera in my hand, regardless of whether I am pointing it at him, or even if I am not actually taking a photo. Actually, he will smile for any small electronic device I have in my hand. I’ll pick up my phone to make a call, and Zane will look at it with a manic grin on his face, his eyes squinting with the effort of producing the most dazzling smile he can. I could probably hold a can opener up and he would grin at it. And that’s not all: he will smile at a camera irrespective of his mood. I had Zane in the baby carrier on my chest with him facing outward as we were on a hike, and he was very unhappy. He’d been bawling incessantly for 15 minutes, and I’d tried everything to settle him, without luck. I gave up and just kept walking, and at one point I took out the camera to take a picture of some lovely vista. Zane stopped crying. I thought, “What the...?” I couldn’t see his face, and I suspected the camera to be the cause. I turned the camera around, took a picture of his face and looked at the result: it was a big cheesy smile in a face soaked with tears. I put the camera away and the crying resumed.

He Does Like Us!

Zane has learnt how to be affectionate. He always receives kisses and hugs from us, but now he has learnt how to return them, to give us some reassurance that he really does like us. Or maybe it’s a ploy to get food, we’re not sure. Anyhow, it’s beautiful to see: when Jas picks him up, he’ll wrap his arms around her neck (well, about a third the way around), and kiss her on the cheek. I use the term “kiss” very loosely, as it involves Zane opening his mouth wide and sucking Jas’ cheek whilst dribbling copiously. I’ve never seen something so touching that requires a mop to clean up afterwards.

With me, he is a little more aggressive. When my head is close, he’ll grab a handful of hair from each side of my head, firmly pull me close and then cheerfully bite my nose. The meaning in this action is indeed questionable, but I like to think it’s an act of fondness.

Pride

When you become a dad, you start to become proud of simpler things than you might previously have done. As well as getting satisfaction at, say, your own sporting achievements or a promotion at work, you well up at milestones that might seem innocuous to others, but are significant in your child’s development. One such event occurred when Zane woke up recently: he had his very first bed hair! His little blonde fronds had grown long enough to get messed up in his sleep. He woke up and as he looked at me, he had clearly looked like he had been in dreamland for some time, with a clump of hair askew on top of his head. It was a beautiful sight.

Zane recently discovered his hands, and spent a lot of time holding them out in front of him, waving them about, doing little royal waves, seeing the shapes he could create with his wrist and fingers and trying to use them to pick things up. He has now found his feet! They are considerably further away, however that doesn’t stop him grabbing them, shaking them about and pulling them up to his head, just to show off. And it doesn’t stop there: he likes to suck on his toes. I’m very happy that he can’t walk yet, as I’m sure I’d be forever pulling his grubby feet from between his lips.

An ability that I’m not particularly overjoyed about is that Zane seems to be able to project his puke into rather unfortunate locations on demand. The most memorable, yet forgettable, of these was when we were in a rather nice hotel bar overlooking a lake with well-to-do patrons all about. I had Zane sitting on my lap, with one of my legs crossed over the other, so the “cuff” of my shorts was angled slightly upwards. Zane had the apparent need to vomit a copious amount of warm fluid up the leg of my shorts. Barely a drop hit the floor or the chair; pretty much all of it made its way to the top of my shorts – on the inside. It generated a large and unfortunately obvious wet patch from my right buttock all the way down the inside leg. I had to leave immediately, as inconspicuously as I could, though it is difficult to walk normally in those conditions.

From Zane: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Fifth Month

2011-09-21T23:27:00.000-07:00

Milestones

Babies learn many important things as they grow, in their impatient quest to become independent adults. One such skill which is not publicised a great deal in parenthood literature was something Zane suddenly performed brilliantly well: whilst drinking, he can burp, relieving himself of a significant build-up of gas, and - without even pausing for breath or to reflect on the quality of the burp - continue to drink, without spilling a drop of milk. What a marvellous ability.

One other little known check-point in baby development is the ability to be destructive. Zane displayed surprising dexterity in ripping his first page of a book that Jas was reading as he sat on her lap. There seemed to be intent behind it: he swiftly grabbed the paper at his first attempt and then reefed to one side. And he seemed to enjoy it! He looked up at Jas, with the piece of ripped paper in his paw, with considerable satisfaction. Alas, he has begun what will be is many years of objects being dropped from high places, rocks being thrown at things that don’t welcome moving stones and insects being de-winged, all for the fun of seeing what happens.

Zane achieved a number of other – more mainstream – milestones this month. When laid on his front, he can lift himself up onto his elbows to get a better look around; that is, to keep up-to-date on everything that is happening around him. He’s becoming very nosey; he will actually pause from breastfeeding and crane his neck if he senses something interesting occurring nearby. He also now rolls from his front to his back. He has also started to skydive! When laid on his belly, he’ll arch his back and kick his legs and arms with an impish grin on his face, as though he is really free-falling through the air.

Probably the most important development to date is that he can pick up a cup. In fact, any drinking vessel he sees will result in him wriggling impatiently to get near it, grab it and pull it to his mouth, though he doesn’t yet know what to do when it gets there. Interestingly, he shows a great deal of enthusiasm when there is a bottle of beer in front of him; perhaps he can sense my enjoyment of it. Unfortunately that enjoyment is curtailed by the effort of containing the persistent squirming of our little boy trying to take ownership of my drink.

Does he understand?

Zane is nowhere near forming any comprehensible words; he is still practicing on getting his mouth around the easy consonants like ‘m’ and ‘b’. And we don’t expect him to understand us at all either, apart from sensing our mood, or look at us when we make some kind of noise in his general direction. However, on many occasions he seems to respond – immediately - to things we say, regardless of whether we are talking to him or not. For example, we might comment on how well he is picking up small objects, to which he’ll look up and “mmm” appreciatively. We might be talking about our day and mention how fun something was, to which Zane will emit a squeal of delight. Jas would mention that it is time for the boy’s bedtime; Zane might promptly fart with disapproval. He has also grunted and burped with impeccable timing, in concert with discussions that we didn’t think he was part of. Perhaps we need to include him more.

The Sleep Challenge

Zane doesn’t like sleeping; he obviously thinks he is missing out on what is occurring in his little world and wants to be a part of everything. Or he just wants to play: sleep is boring! Evenings are the most difficult, and I have attempted a number of little ploys to ease his passage into dreamland. Once I tried to lie quietly next to his bed, to make it clear that I was not doing anything interesting that he was going to miss out on, and that I wasn’t in the mood for playing. He responded by promptly making a little tent with his sheet by draping it over his arms and legs that were all pointing skyward; with his limbs and sheet held aloft, he then looked at me happily, expectantly, thinking that his brilliant creation would convince me that it was time for games. I turned away and stifled laughter.

Another time I‘ve put my head silently close to his, to calm him, his big blue eyes looking at me. He became quiet; so far, so good. Babies like to copy what adults do, so I closed my eyes tightly, breathing deeply, snoring slightly - pretending to sleep - and waited, hoping he would follow suit. Silence. Great, it was working, I thought...Then after a minute or two, I opened my eyes to check: his were still wide open, calmly looking at me, without a hint of sleep forthcoming, probably wondering what hell I was doing.

Sound effects

When I awake, I tend to surface slowly with minimal movement, occasionally stretching to ensure my limbs have sufficient blood flowing through them before I attempt use of them for anything important, like holding me up once I leave the bed. We normally know when Zane is waking up: we’ll hear a repeated whumping – every 5 or 10 seconds – that sounds vaguely like someone smacking a sheet with a broom next door. He produces the sound by slowly lifting his legs up, holding for a second or two and then releasing them, both hitting the bed with a satisfying thump that he does not seem to notice, as he still has his eyes firmly shut. Maybe it is some kind of pre-installed baby pump action that helps force is eyelids to open and let in the light.

He makes particular noises when he is waking up. It’s a noise thay sounds like he has forgotten where he went to sleep and wakes up taking note of all the interesting sights around him, what he is wearing, what’s out the window, and making little beep-like “ummm!” noises as he notes the detail in his surroundings. He sounds like R2D2 attempting a particularly difficult crossword. As his little body is about to shut-down for sleep the noises are far different, almost the opposite; he sounds like a heavy creaky shutter in a gentle breeze. Zane’s eating noises are a completely different proposition still: the urgent grunting reminds me of an Attenborough documentary on a pride of lions enjoying a fresh kill.

This is what Zane has to say: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Fourth Month

2011-08-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

Workout

Every morning Zane is a bundle of energy and enthusiastically performs a regime of exercises. He has developed a series of moves which no doubt could be demonstrated on a baby yoga video. First up is the “Petrified Starfish” where – lying on his back – he stretches his arms and legs out starfish-style and tenses every muscle in his body. Next is the “Pot Belly Bridge” where he lays as straight as possible and lifts his bulging belly as high as he can, so that only his ankles and head are touching the floor. Again, he does this tensing his whole body to the point where his little body is shaking with exertion and his cheeks go red. Then we have the “Spread Eagle” where, still on his back, he lifts his legs and parts them into a perfect little “V”, and holds it for an impressive period. Finally, he has his “Horizontal Squat” move, a pose that looks like he is riding an invisible motorbike up a wall, which doesn’t seem to exercise much apart from his clenched fists around the imaginary handlebars.

He isn’t quite yoga guru level yet; he needs to work on his breathing more. That is to say, he actually needs to breathe when doing these movements: he just clenches everything as tight as he can, grunting like a weight-lifter attempting to lift something slightly heavier than they are able. No doubt these exercises have some developmental purpose, however he just seems to do it all to show off! When he does them, he looks at me, his lips pursed, the blood rushing to his head, his eyes and cheeks about to pop as he tries the hardest to impress. Peculiarly, he knows that he needs to do something special when a camera is pointed in his direction, for which he always performs his Pot Belly Bridge, with extra grunting; it’s quite hilarious, and the effort is admirable, but unfortunately it doesn’t look as nice as his smile!

Planet Zane

Zane has worked out how to grab things with his hands. Once he grabs something, however, the next logical action for him is to try and eat it, like a hungry crab that funnels anything in its path into its ready mouth. It doesn’t matter what it is: his bib, his shirt, his blanket, all objects within reach are dragged into his awaiting mouth, like a dribble-laden black hole sucking anything within its gravitational pull. In fact, any intergalactic material orbiting Zane is likely to be drawn into his gaping saliva factory; I’ve almost lost fingers that were within gripping distance of his strong little claws.

We discovered why Zane has been producing enough dribble to create a large swamp. He has teeth! Two of them! We were expecting such a development at six months, not at three and a half. Jas discovered this by surprise early one morning - her loud exclamation was enough to wake me. It certainly makes breastfeeding more, er, interesting...

Talking whale

Zane has been experimenting more with his vocal range, trying different noises to see what he can produce and what feels good to him. Interestingly, when he talks to his toys, he makes noises that sound something like what whales might produce when in season. His conversation typically starts with a high pitched dolphin-like squeal that slowly descends a number of octaves into a nasal groan. I’m surprised there haven’t been a number of cases of marine mammals beaching themselves nearby. If ever they made an Adults Only version of Finding Nemo, Zane could be enlisted to do the sound effects for it.

Good lad

Zane watches a little TV occasionally. One evening while he was gently swaying in his bouncer and watching the news, some report came on about a girls’ school, which was naturally accompanied by footage of girls frolicking about in their playground. Zane was very quiet until this report, at which point he released a number of enthusiastic “oooh!” sounds. That’s my boy.

Zane's post: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Third Month

2011-07-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

Persuasion

Zane has a growing repertoire of expressions that more or less appear quite randomly, as though he’s still experimenting with his facial muscles, but he has developed one particular look that has clear intent. It’s a hungry, determined look that says: “Give me milk now.” It is so effective that Jas drops whatever she is doing, and immediately feeds him without ado. He can’t even talk yet, but already he can convince someone to give him what he wants with ease! It’s a skill worth cultivating for when he is older...

Pudgy

Zane has been packing on the weight, which is a good thing for a baby. But he’s recently developed a double chin. Is that normal? He has pudgy little legs, the belly of a pregnant frog, and cheeks that look as though he’s got a mouthful of grapes, but I consider this part of babyhood. A double chin though? I wonder if I need to call the baby division of Weight Watchers.

My fitness has all but evaporated with fatherhood. No more gym visits or bursts of cycling in the evening. I try to fit in exercise where I can. I climb the stairs at work rather than getting the lift. I walk to a more distant train station than I need to. I recently had a bright idea as I lifted Zane out of his cot as I noted his ever increasing weight: Conan the Barbarian got his physique by carrying a cow up a hill, starting when it was a newborn calf and sticking to this exercise regime until the calf was a fully grown bull, resulting in an epic physique. Perhaps I can bench press Zane as he grows or sling him over my shoulder and trot up the nearest hill. Zane might be somewhat disagreeable to this as he gets older, though...

Pants

Jas called me at work.
Jas: “Zane just did a massive poo! The biggest one he has ever done. It went everywhere!”
Me: “Oh, it’s a shame I am at work and not able to fully appreciate it.”
Jas: “Oh, don’t worry about that, I took photos of it!”
Marvellous.

Zane likes being changed these days. He hated it when he was younger, but now seems to calmly enjoy the expectation of being inserted into a new little outfit. Perhaps he is just happy to have his pants off! On one occasion though I changed him, and then he bawled and bawled. He was clean, he’d been fed, yet he was intensely upset. I did a quick check of his clothes: I’d put his top on back to front! As soon as I corrected my seemingly innocuous error, he was happy. He is quickly creating strong preferences about what he wears and how he wears his clothes.

Raising a baby is like being close to nature. They are a fresh new being, unsullied by anything man-made, unaffected by modern human society. They just act on impulse, according to their primeval needs. They moan when they’re hungry. They cry when they’re uncomfortable. They jump when they’re startled. They sleep when they’re tired. They laugh when you humour them. Nothing in the past, the future, or even out of their sight matters to them. They don’t care what others think of them. They have no needless desires. Nothing is premeditated, political or planned.

Or so I thought. Zane wants a motorbike already. When he lies on his back, he looks at us, and then lifts his arms as though he is gripping a pair of Harley Davidson handlebars. He looks at his hands, checking them out, discovering that he has little fingers that would look great wrapped around the throttle of a two-wheeled motor. He even lifts his legs ready to sit astride a bike seat; you could just pick him up and plonk him on a motorbike without having to rearrange his little limbs. I think he should stop watching Top Gear.

The Funniest Thing Yet

One day I read that at about two months, babies should be able to lay on their front and start to lift their head up. “Oops”, I thought: we’d never actually put Zane on his front! I worried that we were depriving Zane of some essential skill development. Well, no time like the present: I took him out of his bouncer – which he loves – and plonked him face down on the floor, and waited expectantly for some action. Any action. He just laid there, starfish-like, face into the floor, unmoving, looking like a baby superman had just fallen out of the sky. He had no idea what to make of it; he just lay there waiting for us to move him again. It was a hilarious sight – we were in stitches...until he bawled.

The Second Funniest Thing Yet

Zane is becoming more sensitive to his surroundings. He turns looks in the direction of new sounds or a moving object. But he’s started to be startled easily when a loud noise or a sudden movement catches him by surprise. One such occasion was when he lay awake in his cot and Jas suddenly rushed into the room to and – quite loudly - said something. His entire body reacted in shock: his little legs and arms simultaneously shot bolt upright in the air, as someone would if they’d received defibrulator treatment for cardiac arrest. Now it’s not funny to scare a baby, but Zane’s response was priceless. It took us a while to control our laughter.

Zane's view: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The Second Month

2011-05-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

Insatiable

We’ve given birth to a Homer Simpson clone, a being that can eat for days without stopping. Like Homer, he grunts with the effort of devouring his milk. He can even drink when he is asleep. If you pull a bottle out of his mouth, his mouth continues the suckling motion, sucking on air, just like a fish trying to breathe out of water. No sooner have we finished one feed and looking to put Zane down for a sleep and wash some bottles, he is kicking his arms and legs about for more. If a breast or bottle comes within range, the little man starts groaning, his heading bobbing frantically about, his lips and tongue trying to get a grip on whatever might provide some milk. Two boobs are just not enough for the boy.

One evening I thought of a theme song for Zane, lyrics to the tune of the 10CC’s I'm Not In Love:

It’s not enough, so don't forget it

It's just a growing phase I'm going through

And just because I throw some up

Don't get me wrong, you’ve got more milk to make

It’s not enough, no-no

I’ve given serious thought to installing a milk tank on the side of his cot, with a tube feeding into a modified dummy to keep him constantly supplied. And perhaps I can have a milking machine hooked up to Jas as she sleeps to keep the milk tank topped up, though I do have a vague sensation that Jas wouldn’t be up for this. No harm in asking though...from a distance.

Metamorphosis

With all the milk he is guzzling, he’s growing fast. He is constantly changing, leaving more of his newborn skin behind every day. The other day I awoke, looked at him and thought: “He looks just like Zane but with much bigger cheeks!” He’s developed a greater range of expressions, with smiling now in his facial repertoire, although he does “smile” when he farts, so we’re never quite sure if he is enjoying our presence or is trying to push something out. He also often looks like he’s surprised, his lips pursed as though he is trying to whistle, or trying to do an impression of a cat’s bum.

Zane has also become much more active. He wriggles. He does baby yoga, stretching his legs out straight and then lifting them together, in parallel, and holding them up, poised, as though he is showing off. The most entertaining is when he is on his back and frantically flapping his arms and legs about, sometimes so crazily it’s as though he is trying to fly. He pants as he flaps, his eyes wide, in the expectation of lift-off. If he did happen to have wings, unfortunately his portly Buddha-belly would keep him well and truly grounded; an overweight penguin would have a much higher chance of becoming airborne.

Babies are born with cute little button noses for a reason. If Zane had a sizeable snout, with the number of times he has uncontrollably head-butted my chest, it would have been broken more times than Steve Waugh’s kitchen window.

Some nights I wake thinking I’m in an old creaky house, as though someone is sneaking about, stepping on century-old floorboards. It’s the little man, groaning in his sleep. Sometimes it becomes a rattled snort, a bit like a Jurassic Park raptor; in extreme cases he sounds like the pod-racers from Star Wars.

Interaction

We’re still trying to understand what Zane is trying to “say” to us, with his multi-tonal, multi-volume crying, though sometimes it becomes startlingly obvious. After one feed he began bawling and Jas was struggling to work out his issue. Bum clean? Check. Warm? Check. Not tired? Check. She put her forehead gently against Zane’s and asked, “What’s wrong?” He promptly opened wide, took Jas’ nose into his mouth, and vigorously sucked. Ok: he was still hungry.

One evening Jas and I walked into the room when Zane should have been sleeping. As we opened the door we noticed he was awake, his hands clasped to his chest, and had been looking at the spot where we stood, waiting for us to come in. He just looked at us, with a serious where-have you-two-been? expression, as though he had been waiting silently for some time for us to come in and attend to him. We cracked up at the look on this face...and then so did he! It was as though he was just messing with us. He can’t quite belly laugh yet, but his face scrunched up in a noiseless laugh and his arms flapped joyfully about.

Dads will do funny, even slightly embarrassing, things to keep their little offspring settled and entertained. Things such as putting their grizzly bub into a baby carrier and walking the streets for two hours in the evening in an effort to lull baby to sleep, quietly singing 80’s ballads, as people make their way home from work. Or doing slow-motion star jumps in front of the baby as they sit in their bouncer. Or having their kid on their lap while they do inventive things with stuffed toys for amusement, such as humming the Mission Impossible tune and having the toy re-enact Tom Cruises’ face-down abseil/freefall towards the little one’s face. I’m not saying that I’ve done these things, of course; I’m just merely speculating....

I think Zane will be a roller-coaster kind of guy. He’ll go to sleep in the pram if the ride is rough. Perhaps it’s like being in the womb when mum walks. If I am trying to settle him, I need to find a potholed path to travel over.

Etiquette

Babies get away with anything. We were on the train with Zane, in a crowded carriage full of London commuters, and unfortunately he’d had enough of the day and started screaming. Thinking he was hungry, I signalled for Jas to throw me a bottle to try and becalm the little chap. He duly emptied the bottle, and as he did so, commuters stole little glances at him - something different on their journey home. Then I sat him up to burp him; as I patted his back, there seemed to be a tense expectation in the carriage. Pat, pat, pat. Seconds passed interminably, everyone waiting. And then it came, cracking the silence. Now, normally if one was to belch on a busy London train, many would shoot glances of disapproval at the perpetrator; however, when little Zane let one rip, several passengers audibly sighed in relief. One chap quietly said “Good one!” in admiration.

Can anyone else but babies be introduced to friendly neighbours and get away with promptly belching and then bringing up a little lunch? Our neighbours have been marvellous with the arrival of Zane and been keen to meet him, and Zane has enjoyed their company. But on one occasion he didn’t seem to be in the mood, unfortunately responding to an introduction with a burp and a follow through.

During a spurt of pre-summer sunshine, I had to nip down to Mothercare to buy Zane a hat. There weren’t many options: only pink ones or white lacy ones. The white one was least feminine, but it wouldn’t be a good look. It was a difficult choice: have him wear something girly or not have him sun-safe. I went with the former of course; he won’t remember!

Houdini

Zane has a unique skill. When he has a nappy on, he can soak his back with pee, and somehow keep everything else dry. Including the nappy! Go figure.

The boy's view: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).

The First Month

2011-04-01T12:21:00.000-07:00

Knackered

I felt like I had jetlag, yet the only travel I’d done was walking outside to put the rubbish out; I had, however, journeyed into fatherhood. Ever since Zane descended gracefully into the world, everything Jas and I did and thought about for the first few weeks was for him, looking after a little person who was unable to do anything but fill nappies and sleep. Even when he was asleep there was something to be done. And when we were asleep, well...it wouldn’t be for long!

Our first look at our little man was amazing; finally meeting our blue-eyed bump was something unforgettable. He didn’t cry as new-borns do on TV, but he calmly looked about, looked at us, probably wondering what the hell was going on and who we were. I held him, almost disbelieving what I had in my arms and then thought: “He’s beautiful. Er, what do I do now?!”

So we were a bit zombie-like in the first few weeks. At one point I was so tired that I didn’t notice the blue hippopotamus that had appeared in the spare room. I walked in to get something, turned around and walked out. Sensing that something was different, I walked back in and looked at the new erection in the middle of the floor: Zane’s bright blue hippopotamus-shaped activity mat that Jas had unpacked. I had walked right past it without giving it a glance.

Who is this person?

It was hard to believe he was ours. There were times when I looked at Zane and thought: “Is he mine?” Not questioning Jas’ fidelity of course, but I think I was expecting the little chap to look somehow different, perhaps more like me, though perhaps with a less prominent snout. Sometimes it just felt like someone had visited our house and forgotten to take their baby with them. In the first days I even had moments of forgetting I had a son; I’d sleepily walk into the room, pass the cot and not look into it, momentarily forgetting the little person who had entered our house and taken over our lives.

Ok, ok, so there were times I would look into his cot and just gaze at him in wonder, at the perfectly formed being that had filled our home. There is something mesmerizing about just watching babies sleep, eh? Something that is even more captivating than the hypnotic action of the head forming on a Guinness. But as a parent you worry about sleeping new-borns: he hasn’t moved for a while...is he breathing? I can’t see his chest moving. Zane? Poke. Hmm, I can’t hear his breath. Zane? Poke. POKE. POKE. He flings his arms up and bawls. Oh, he’s fine. Good. Ah, but now he’s awake. And crying...

It’s the cutest thing, watching my tiny son wake up, his hands come to his face, his curled up body slowly unfurling, his legs straightening and stretching...and then pushing out a little fart. There’s something highly humorous about babies boffing, it’s so innocent and unintentional. What is funnier is that, as we laugh at his bodily functions, he maintains a serious look on in face, as though he is a teacher looking at a couple of immature children. One day, he will learn the funny side of the fart.

Bonding

“Skin on skin” was a term we’d heard much of during pregnancy, it being the best way for a baby to get to know its parents by laying on their bare chest, finding comfort and security in feeling mum’s or dad’s heartbeat and becoming familiar with their scent. I found this brilliant; it was very enjoyable to have tiny Zane napping contentedly on my chest, feeling his breath and his sleepy little grunts. I made sure he always had a nappy on, though: baby boys have a propensity for getting erections and then peeing. I didn’t want that kind of business putting a dampener on our bonding.

I was momentarily worried in one of our early bonding sessions. I suddenly felt I had a huge sneeze coming on as two-day old Zane slumbered on my chest: an image of the uncontrollable convulsion ejecting him onto the floor flashed though my mind, and before I could do anything it came, and Zane was airborne. He landed back where he was. Phew; I froze. Looked down at him, and waited for the scream. And then he sneezed! Before I could do anything else, I sneezed again. Zane bounced again. And he sneezed again. The sequence repeated once more. I looked down at him, and wiped my chest down. He was happy. We were sneeze bonding.

You can lead a horse to water...

“My boobs are mountains.”

There had indeed been some pregnancy-induced seismic activity in Jas’ chest. Yet when Zane arrived he didn’t know what to make of them, or perhaps he was a bit lazy and couldn’t be bothered sucking. We had to spoon-feed him in the first few days! We learnt that babies lap like a cat, and Zane thankfully didn’t disappoint when presented with a teaspoon of milk. He soon learnt how to help himself though, and now has a very healthy enthusiasm for boobs that probably won’t be surpassed until he’s about 13 years old.

He doesn’t quite know what is good for him yet, though. If I hold him and he’s hungry, it’s a bit hilarious. His head bobs about clumsily, as he snorts and snuffles around my chest and arms, trying to find a milk supply, a bit like a crazed little piglet hunting for truffles. And if he finds something he can get his little gums around, he’ll give it a go; he actually bruised my upper arm when he managed to find a soft bit of flesh, and sucked on it with enough power that could have sharpened a pencil.

Input = output

What comes in must go out. Life throws up many anxieties, but all fade in comparison to making sure one’s newborn is healthy, and producing the right output in his first week. Given that Zane wasn’t able to speak yet, the main indicators of his healthy development were that he was eating enough, and that what filled his nappy was of the right quantity and colour. Our priorities had drastically altered to the point that our primary concern had become the hue of Zane’s poo. To go into some (perhaps too much) detail, it basically had to change from black to brown after three or four days. Zane kept us guessing...

Meconium was first. Essentially, for the first day or two, it looked as though Zane had filled his duds with the contents of a jar of vegemite. I’d never liked vegemite, thankfully; if I did, Zane would have surely put me off it.

Secondly came what seemed like muddy, algae-filled pond water. I don’t think I’ve ever smelt anything so bad, perhaps even surpassing the occasion that I shared the back seat of a car with a large and very flatulent dog.

Finally he produced what we were waiting for: the satay. It was a relief to see it as it represented a fully operation digestive tract; however...I used to quite like satay. I think now it’ll be easier for me to make a choice the next time I see a Chinese take-away menu.

Zane dislikes clothes and nappies intensely. He bawls whenever they go on, and quietens when they all come off. I’ve heard that dressing a baby is like putting a live octopus in a string bag and then trying to keep all the flailing legs inside it.

I think a major parenting challenge for us will be to ensure that the internal surfaces of our home remain free of pee, poo and spew. This was illustrated none too vividly during one of the early midwife visits. During Zane’s weighing – for which he had to be naked – Zane piddled. He didn’t just quietly moisten the blanket he lay on, oh no: as he slowly rolled from one side to the other he peed, creating a delightful golden arc, an impressive fountain that marked his territory several feet from the scales, somehow keeping himself completely dry.

Fluid dynamics

Zane has yet to discover the purpose of the bath. He loves them, he becomes relaxed being naked and wet; as he floats, he unfurls and stretches out his little bowed legs so that – with his bobbing fat white belly - he looks like a frog in a pond. Unfortunately, he also likes pooing in the bath, which defeats the purpose somewhat. I think we’ll wait until he develops the right etiquette before we take him to a public pool...

One of the few things I recall from University physics is work of Bernoulli. He was a chap that studied fluid dynamics, and one of his theories was based on the increasing velocity of liquid when passing through ever narrower channels. During one of his regular nappy changing sessions, at precisely the moment I had removed the used nappy, Zane projectile pooed on me. As if to make a point, he then pissed to the side, covering the wall next to his change table. A spectator to the event would have found it hugely comical; unfortunately, Jas was a spectator and she duly collapsed in laughter at the hilarity of the situation, as I stood in shock and in splattered clothes. I’d never seen projectile poo before, and certainly hadn’t thought a week year old child had the ability to do it. But then I thought of Mr Bernoulli: that satay was being forcibly squeezed through a very small orifice.

Communication

What does he want? Is he thirsty? Parenting a baby is mostly about trying to decipher his movements and his sounds. When Zane wildly flails his arms and makes noise like a bat, what does it mean? What about when he kicks his legs like crazy and sounds like a dolphin, or like one of those ululating raptors from Jurassic Park? To be honest, I’ve little idea. If he’s not hungry, his duds probably need changing.

He may not be able to speak yet, but he is quickly developing into a good little writer with his own blog: Being A Baby (being-a-baby.blogspot.com).