Hello little guy
I guess it’s only fitting that, after having penned this note to your big brother, that I put a few words down for you too, right?
Mika … where do I begin with you, my noodle? You are a VERY happy baby. You LOVE to eat – strawberries being item number one on your list of favourites. If babies could pin, you’d have board after board, dedicated to your favourite foods, the most pins on your “STRAWBERRIES” board, naturally.
You do love to eat, but it would appear that you’re a bit intolerant of lactose, like your Daddy. We discovered this whilst on “holiday” in Port Alfred when you were around 8 weeks old. (I use the word “holiday” very loosely, as it was quite easily the furthest thing from a holiday, due to sleepless nights, constant bickering between your dad and I due to the fact that we were both NOT sleeping, and the fact that you were really not too happy with life while we were there). Anyway, after I succumbed to giving you a bottle of formula (we tried you on NAN HA, as your brother had at around 6 months for the first time) after you’d literally LIVED on my boob for the first 5 weeks of your life, never seeming satisfied or full from my milk. I guessed that I didn’t have enough milk, which was what was p!ssing you off. So we started you on the NAN HA, which didn’t work out either: your night-long screaming continued, and you never really seemed comfortable. So, before we left for that fateful December “holiday” I did a bit of Twitter info-sourcing and came to the conclusion that you were a “hungry baby” and that Lactogen formula would work out best. As it always happens with babies, you seemed “okay” on that formula for a couple of days. And then we went right back to square one. You would wake at 2 and scream till 6. SCREAM. Loud. You hardly slept, unless you were lying on your Daddy’s legs. Which is cute, but Dad had severe cramps quite a bit from holding you up so you could catch some shut-eye. So yes, it was a tough 3 weeks away from home, out of our comfort zone and what-not, but what counts is that we (just) lived to tell the tale.
We got back to Jo’burg, where Mommy had a bit of a melt-down, was
declared clinically insane diagnosed with Post-Natal Depression, finally let Daddy hire the late Patricia, who was kind enough to spend a couple of nights looking after you while Mommy and Daddy enjoyed some much needed sleep. Mommy’s clever friend Amanda also pointed out that perhaps you were lactose intolerant and gave us a tin of the NAN Lactose-Free milk, which subsequently CHANGED OUR LIVES. From then on, you were happy, content and you slept … a little bit more than you had been.
That five letter word that’s become sacred to me … SLEEP. You still (at almost 11 months old) don’t sleep through the night. I mean, you’ve managed it once or twice, but there’s no consistent pattern yet. I’ve tried increasing your protein/carbs/strawberry intake, but so far nothing seems to be doing “the trick”. What the hell is “the trick” anyway? So I guess you’re a fan of your midnight and sometimes also 3am bottles? That’s okay. I love holding you close in my arms as you almost desperately glug away at your bottle. I would give (almost) all the sleep in the world to always have you safe and warm in my arms.
You’ve just recently, in the last two weeks, learnt how to crawl. You were doing lots of pulling yourself up onto the table/couch/Luca’s toys but you weren’t mobile until recently. Now, you go a mile a minute – slapping your chubby little hands on the laminate flooring and loving every second of your new found freedom.
You say “Halalaaaa” a lot. Think it’s a combination of “Hello” and your tongue always being stuck out as far as you can get it. I walk into you room and am greeted with rosy cheeks and “HALAAAALAAAAA!” You are SO sweet. EVERYONE thinks you are just THE cutest baby ever, and I’ve got to say that I agree. You’ve got fat rolls on fat rolls, hands that look like they’ve been screwed on and the chubbiest cheeks known to baby-kind.
Your Daddy is your absolute favourite! When he walks across the room, your eyes don’t leave him for a second. You have the sweetest smile that ALWAYS appears when your Daddy is near. You also ADORE your big brother Luca, even though he pushes you away from his Lego models and often shouts “MITA’S TOMING TLOSE TO ME MOOOOOM!” when you crawl up for a snuggle/hair-pull/Lego-demolishing session. I can’t remember being horrible to your Aunty Lolly when she was a baby, although my Aunty Brigie has told us stories about me shoving carrots up Lol’s nose when she was just a tiny newborn thing. Your Aunty Lolly and I are THE best of friends now, so I can promise you that things will only get better
You look like a little owl … with your round face and BIG, dark eyes. It’s amazing because your Granny Sally and your Granny Debbie both collected and adored owls. I always imagine that they were “up there” deciding on exactly how owl-ish to make you because they both loved owls so very much. In honour of you, Granny Sally and Granny Debbie, Mommy got an owl-key tattoo (or, “Taaaah-tooo” as Luca likes to call it) … and it’s beautiful.
Mommy’s actually gone a little owl-mad and your first birthday party (which is in 6 weeks time!) will be owl-themed. I’ve already created this owl board on Pinterest, chatted to Lucinda at Fig ‘n Chilli about some lovely customised Mika/Owl cookies and will be chatting to your super-talented Aunty Lolly to get cracking on some beau-oooooooo-tiful owl invites and other party stuff It will be a lovely, simple day, where the people who love you most will be at your side.
Anyway my little Mika-moo, mommy’s working late into the night tonight … maybe TONIGHT you’ll sleep right through? Maybe? Yes? No? Either, way, I love you little Schnoonkle … and seeing your little face every morning makes the world a better place to be in.
I love you with all of my heart …