Fred: Month 6

Dear Fred

This week you turn six months, and whilst I marvel as each month melts into the next, this one has me taking particular stock. It is hard to believe we are halfway to your first birthday; it is hard to fathom all the changes that will occur on the road to that day. It is easy to see what they mean when they say that your children grow up so quickly – I can see, 2, 5, 10 and 18 on the horizon.















This month’s most worrying aspect to our life with you is your sleeping. Whilst I have always been quite positive about how good you are at sleeping and so steadfast in my belief that you will evolve quite naturally into 7 to 7 sleeps, it is becoming increasingly obvious that you will not go quietly. In fact, you will not go moderately loudly. You go earsplittingly. We struggle with settling you, we struggle with getting you into your cot, we struggle with teaching you to not wake up 3 or 4 times in the night. And it’s wearing thin. Whilst it is true that the unsuitability of our home (lack of walls) could be use as an explanation…this poor excuse has also worn thin. Children are incredibly adaptable, you should be able to fit to our home. The undeniable truth is that your father and I have cultivated this situation. For the first 5 months of your life your heavy lids were rocked shut, each cry was shushed and most nights were spent with your hand in mine. This past week we have therefore been trying to fell a whole tree of bad habits and started control crying. Some nights are ok, I feel strengthened with a steely resolve. Some nights are hard, your cries peel away parts of my heart leaving it raw and in tatters. All nights are tiring and have moments of profound frustration. The progress on this control crying (where we let you cry for between 5 and ten minutes) is slow. Two days ago you went with barely a wimper and we rejoiced at having cracked it. But last night you cried for and hour and a half. Back to the drawing board. Whilst I’m not looking for you to be perfect, I just hope we can find some sort of compromise. And if we can’t I’m going to blame your father and the fact he has passed onto you the most stubborn stubborn gene known to man.

































This month has seen you start solid food. At the beginning it seemed as though you dribbled more out than we put in, and we wondered what the point of doing this was. And then when more was going in than out it wasn’t very satisfying as it was apparent that you had absolutely no idea how to eat this squishy stuff we gave you. You decided that you were not going to open you mouth whenever a spoonful was offered, but rather, you would suck it through pursed lips. Which was frustrating and messy for all involved. But yesterday after three weeks of sucking you opened your mouth every single time and it was as though I had a whole new baby on my hands, one who enjoyed eating. My spoon couldn’t keep up with your tiny mouth. But, of course, things can never be simple with you Freddy, and it is obvious that you are something of a fussy eater. 50% of what we offer is rejected and the food that isnt only has a short period of grace. It is not uncommon that day after devouring a food (eg pumpkin) you gag on it the next. The drawing board is running out of paper.
















But it’s not been all hard work with you, not at all. You have exited the grumpy period I lamented last month and become an all-round agreeable little boy. Actually, you are flipping fantastic company. You now dissolve into giggles if I make a funny face or noise and are ticklish beyond belief (you get that from me). And this past week we had a new high. Like the smile and the hugs, something you now do has me literally shrieking with joy each time you do it. It is: shaking your head. Yes, shaking your wee little head. And whist this could be seen as a ominous insight into the toddler years, what makes me so rapturous is that you do it when I do it. Yes - I shake my head, then you shake your head, then we laugh. I shake, you shake, laugh. Repeat. And after two days of head shaking frivolity, you now shake your head at ME! Then I shake it back. Yes, YOU start our shankin’ good times!! I can walk into a room, catch your eye and you smile at me and shake your head. At the same time. A SMILING shake. The cuteness of this should not be underestimated (particularly as your eyes roll up into your head as you do it). You shake your head as you go to sleep, you shake your head when you wake up. You shake your head when George Bush comes on the nightly news. You rock, little man.

Vocally you continue to be the worlds noisiest baby. The sounds change each day, thrilling both of us. I can barely remember the little horse noises you made when you were born because you (literally) say ‘Blah. Blah. Blah’. I could not be more impressed by the fact that you have managed to master the sound of ‘Blah’. The brilliance of this has not escaped me, you must be the wittiest baby in the world (you get that from me).

One of the great things about having friends in the area with babies around the same age is our ability to learn from each other and get glimpses at what lies ahead. Whilst you rule at rolling over (But never to the right. Whats wrong with the right?!?). You are way out of your depth with regards to sitting. Although as I tried to prove my point to the other women yesterday you sat upright for a full 5 seconds (before face-planting) and they all thought me crazy. Then I explained that you had done that deliberately just to make me look foolish and just look at that smug little grin on your face. I later heard one of them dialing the local looney bin and enquiring about vacancies. I somehow doubt this is the last time you are going to go to lengths to prove me wrong (you also get this from me). Oh. And as I write this we are babysitting one of the boys (Leo) and he went to bed at 7.30pm, went straight to sleep and has not woken up. YOU have screamed yourself to sleep at 9pm and woken up FOUR times. I wonder if there is a baby exchange somewhere and we can trade you in for a better model*.

Dad continues to be a cool dude and he has been teaching you to run and catch and kick the ball. We have footage of this which I will put up soon. Thankfully you were not too keen on the golf clubs so there is hope.














It is amazing all the things you are learning. Imitation and perseverance are tools you are using each day. But one thing you obviously have a firm grasp on is love. Your father and I pinch ourselves in disbelief when you interact with us and return our unconditional love with your smiles, your hugs, your dribbles, your cries. I can’t even find the words to do justice to how amazing that is. We love you, Manny.

xxx
your mum

*that is mums poor attempt at humour Freddy. We would never, ever, ever, ever trade you. Besides – what are you doing reading this blog? Not till your 18, we’ve talked about this. Do your homework.