Liam’s been working diligently on his upper vocal range these days. David is convinced that he’s going to lose a few tones of hearing along the way and I’m missing the days when my alarm clock was my iphone. I’m not sure how Siegfried is faring with this new development, he seems fairly calm with the whole thing, but every once in a while when I look at him, his eyes look a bit wider than usual and he seems to be riding a little high, as if its difficult to really relax with all this racket. How long does the screaming phase last? Really, I’m going to need to have an idea in order to brave this next phase. Yesterday I think that I smelled Liam’s feet. In a bad way. Already? Screaming and stinky feet. Our cute little bundle of joy is only four and a half months old. This has got me thinking of locomotion and the mayhem that will soon overtake my life. I am afraid. It must be possible to convince an infant that screaming isn’t everybody else’s favored form of vocal expression. I’m going to have to do some investigating…..
About 48 hours later
It seems that screaming infants usually applies to unhappy ones. At least that’s when people ask questions on forums and the conversations take off from there. So far the general consensus seems to be that a happy screaming baby is just fun. I’m not completely convinced.
To prove my point about locomotion, Liam is having lots of fun rolling over this morning. In the past couple days he’s done a couple rolls. But this morning he was unstoppable. I’m trying to capture some of his most Pilates-esque movements for my studio new years cards. There’s one move in particular that I’d be overjoyed to capture, but alas, my model has a mind of his own. I kept on putting the happy screamer on his tummy and he kept flipping over. Timing is everything. All this rolling looks to me to be the result of an intense and yet still unfulfilled desire to locomote (new word, I know). As far as I know, the best path to locomotion is lots of time on the floor and on the tummy. I think that I’m reading Liam right when I say that he’s not always keen to be on the floor. Often he prefers to be in his bouncy seat or swing so that he can a better vantage point for surveying our activities. This is especially true in the kitchen. I’m not sure what is so amazing about watching me wash dishes, but thankfully Liam finds it a good view for what appears to be peaceful contemplation.
On the topic of drool and other body fluids. It goes without saying that Liam’s DNA is all over me. That’s normal, right? For me the new normal is that it doesn’t bother me at all. Every once in a while I realize just how strange the new normal is. Somewhere in my distant memory, when my brain is sort of functioning, I remember a time when I found that very thing pretty gross. Wash hands, change shirt immediately, gross. And now it’s just a question of whether I wipe with my shirt or Liam’s. Which really is mote since we’re up close and personal most of the time anyway. Hormones are magical. Now I realize that my actions with respect to body fluids may be grossing other people out. And the sad part is that there isn’t much I can do about it, for a couple of reasons. First of all, there is just so much, it’s near impossible to get a handle on it. And just when I do, out shoots, oozes, sneezes some more. The definition of futility. Secondly, and perhaps because of reason number one and I’m certain because of the hormones, I’m oblivious. So, here’s my apology in past, present, and future tenses: if my kid drools on some part of your property. I’m sorry. If I didn’t notice, I’m sorry. Please, if it bothers you, feel free to point it out to me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind is a tidy person. Now, should I bother to wash my face thoroughly after session of diaper spraying has left a multitude of splatters all over me? Hum…..
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