Thursday, June 5, 2014

Littlest (week four)


Once again, I'm running late with this - as you are now five weeks old. But I'll try to play catch up.
Your fourth week was a blur of you being entirely beautiful and miraculous and the rest of the world being entirely overwhelming.

The sheer relentless rush of looking after all three of you is amazing and I think it must surely be the hardest thing I've ever done. I am beginning to see the words 'school run' as the worst curse words in the world.

But you were beautiful. The way your eyes meet mine, the darling expressions, from quizzical, to red-faced fury, to rapt awe (generally at something I can't quite work out, but on the wall somewhere). The delicate line of your face as you feed and the thoughtful look in your deep eyes, to the rather more jowl-y disdain as you survey the world when you are beginning to think that it's milk time.
The moments when it is just you and I in the world when you wake in the night are my very favourite, and I think the smell of baby (milk and posset I expect) should be sold in a tin, for however bad the day is, it instantly brings joy.

While your Daddy and I were nearly over our sickness, our Poppet was ill all week with a high fever and nasty cough. She stayed home from creche but I still had to bundle her into the car (with her pyjamas, fleece robe and ugg boots on) to drop our Sprocket off at school. She is improving now, but the nasty cough is still there. It seems too big for such a small little girl.

The Big Bad Bold Black Beastie continued to play a major part in our lives. Your brother remained entranced and woke in the dark each morning to let him in to cuddle with him on the couch. I remain less entranced. Of all the cats in all the world, this one had to adopt us? We discovered his owner is a man from across the road who is away a lot of the week, so it is no doubt lonely. But there is lonely and there is seeking world domination, one house at a time. Your brother insisted on feeding it milk, so there was the unfortunate time when I saw it squatting in the kitchen, pounced on it to put it out before there was more mess, it ran, and spread diarrhoea all through the kitchen, the hallway, the living room and up onto the throws and cushions on the couch.

While I was clearing up the mess you started crying and the kids got worried, and took you out of your bassinet to bring you over to me. With my hands full of cat-diarreah-cleaning-stuff, and my thinking processes somewhat slowed, there wasn't a lot I could do but ask them to put you back in your bassinet.

Thankfully, they didn't drop you.

Your Daddy has not got to see you a lot. He leaves in the early hours of the morning in the dark, and returns in the late evening in the dark, often when we're all already in bed. On occasion he changes one of your nappies in the night, but knowing his long commute and long day, I don't like to ask him too much. I feel so sad he's missing your first days, but while he loves you very much, he is looking forward to the time you realise there is a world outside of milk and start interacting with him more. It is interesting how everyone has favourite times.

This was your Daddy's last week at our local hospital. There is something called 'on take' wherein his team deals with admissions. We hates it. Basically it means he doesn't get home till eleven pm. As he leaves the house before eight am, this is a very long day. It is strange to think you won't remember this intensive time of study (he will probably still be studying when he's in a nursing home, and to become a specialist there's at least another seven years of training and exams to go, but this unpaid training). The Sprocket should remember some of it, the Poppet a little less, but you none at all.

I love the little moments of having three of you. When we are all in my bed and I'm reading stories, a little one cuddled to either side and you nursing.  When the kids are in their beds and I sit singing lullabies to them while you nurse (notice a trend here!)  I wonder what will be your favourite lullaby - your brother loves Brahms' Lullaby while your sister loves Mama's Going to Buy you a Mockingbird, although she presently has a strong preference for Frog Went Walking on a Summers Day.

A lovely mother from playgroup gave you a bagful of beautifully knitted little woollens as she'd noticed that you always wear them and her own children are too big. The kindness of it was so uplifting and you look so sweet in them.

You are making noises that signal you are about to wake, and the light is silvering - daylight approaches - I'd better hurry and have a shower before you all wake.

But your fourth week little one - incredibly precious and incredibly hard, and one I never want to forget.

P.S I forgot to say you visited your first university library this week. (Obviously you've already been to a public library - although a small one - your Nana and Grandpa have more books!)  Everyone admired your brilliance properly. I'll be going back to work for a few hours next semester (don't worry, your Daddy will look after you for my weekend shift, and your Nana and Grandpa will train it up from Melbourne for the shift that falls in the week. Expressing is not something I've done before, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it!) 

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