I, Hugo, am now one week of age.

My entry into this world was a rather quick, albeit it noisy one. It was only 4.5 hours between the time I popped the ol’ cork on her until the time I was reefed from my home of 10 months.

I quite like it on the outside. Though the muffled noises I have become accustomed to are significantly louder now. One very familiar voice has turned out to be my brother, Darcy. He’s a loving fellow who constantly chants “I will look after him” and “may I touch him” it’s usually at this point I try and open my very weary eyes in time to see his large hand approaching my scalp. It normally starts as a nice pat, I let my guard down and then his grip swiftly turns into a vice-like clasp akin to those coin operated machines that has a crane and a claw for selecting unsuspecting toys. My brother’s head sometimes shakes with the sheer exertion he’s putting into his grip on my head. But thankfully Mumma and Dadda step in at this point. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to hurt me, he just doesn’t know his own strength. He also enjoys showing me his “ittle cars and trains”, usually these are shown at close range and often they perform burn outs on my rather delicate skin. I’m doing my best at becoming more robust and have already moved beyond my birth weight of 3270g to my current weight of 3320g. Not a bad accomplishment for one weeks drinking!

I enjoy a slumber of around two hours now and usually snore my head off. I thought Mumma would like this as I read her blogs from Darcy and she was paranoid about Sid taking him, now she knows I’m right there but she still took me on my first outing alone with her and Darcy to the midwife, which ended up with a trip to the the Children’s Hospital Emergency. Needless to say she was a crying mess and I’m not surprised when you see all the other poor sick kids whom have germs to share, why I myself drew the blanket up over my head to shield me. As it turned out I’m fine, in fact they insulted me and said I had an immature respiratory system, pfft.

Given I’m the second child and my brother’s blog finished rather abruptly, I have no grand expectations for more updates. So I bid you farewell.
Love,
Hugo xx

I am now nine months of age.

I have now been out for nine months, which is as long as I was in (Although Mumma is adamant that I was in for ten months). One Friday Mumma and I went to the library to listen to music, we met a little friend of mine from Mothers’ group and his Mum there too. I love listening to the music-why I can even move up and down to music now, I’m not as thrilled when Mumma takes me to Babes n’ Books as they sing kids at me and read books in strange animated tones. I have a far more refined taste in entertainment. When we returned home I decided to show mum that I could stand by myself, I simply held onto her arm stood up and then let go-no big deal but of course Dad was immediately rung and informed.
Mumma was so thrilled to find that it was recycle week here in Darwin and that you could go to the Tip and learn how to make thongs-for free! She kept telling Dadda about it-I think he’s just thrilled that she enjoys such frugal pastimes. I knew we had arrived at the Tip by the ghastly stench and the scary birds that were circling in the sky. I was again placed in ‘the baby carrier’ which, by the way, gives me the appearance of having a ‘giny’ or camel toe if you will, whilst Mum busily cut bits of old car mats, faux grass and camping mats in order to fashion her thongs. Everyone commented on how well behaved I was, this was largely fuelled by the Tip’s stench and the overpowering shoe glue Mumma was using which was making me feel giddy. Upon our return home Daddy was suitably impressed with what we had made. The next day, who should show up again but Dicky Knee, aka Grandma, at the same time Dadda disappeared to a place called Bali. Whilst Grandma was here we did lots of stuff, we even stayed at Litchfield for the night and got a sausage sizzle-for free! Grandma walked around with me and we saw cows, I showed her how I could make the cow noise. We also went to the Deckchair Cinemas, an outdoor cinema by all accounts, which is where Mum’s waters had broken while she was there with Grandma nine (or ten) months before. Mum couldn’t see why it would be a problem to take me to see a night film there, but she did not factor in that I make a noise of protest when she is trying to get me to sleep. As she marched up and down behind the revellers on deckchairs I made my customary groan “urrrrrrrrrr, urrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” frantically trying to get me stop, she shoved her boob into my mouth, eventually I relented and slept, but I did come to the realisation that my groaning protests were not enough so I have started to shake my head ‘no’ which will no doubt be helpful in getting my point across in future. I don’t think she saw much of the movie. We went to the Darwin Show too, which was rather enjoyable.

Love Darcy
Mwah-Oh did I not mention I can make kissing noises now too?

I am now eight months of age.

This month I saw things from a whole new angle, from my forward facing car seat. Mumma and Dadda made a huge ceremony of it and kept turning around to see what I was doing and whether I was ecstatic about it. I didn’t mind facing forwards as I do like to see what they are up to at all times. I have recently been working on my leg muscles so that I can now let myself down from a standing position gently. I’ve also been working on a new cry, it’s more of a mocking tone, something like “er, er, er”, it will do for now but I’ll have to further develop it as it doesn’t gain much sympathy but rather laughter, oh the irony-who is mocking who now. Mumma’s good friend, her husband and two girls came to Darwin this month for three whole weeks. It was so great to have them to hang out with, except that I soon found I was no longer a big fish in a small bowl, now there was a bigger girl constantly rebuking me “No Darcy!” I could not put a knee right. We went for a lovely trundle to Kakadu, Mumma worked out she could breastfeed me whilst Daddy drove, assisting us in meeting our friends’ schedules. They are far more routine and organised than us, they were so amazed at my ability to function on very little sleep. What can I say I am rather amazing! Kakadu was great fun, we climbed big rocks, went on a boat cruise and even saw a croc on one of our walks. It was strange actually, Mumma was carrying me in this half-baked carrier that she worked out she could face me outwards in, anyway, as soon as she spotted the croc there was an audible ‘frrt’ and a pungent smell lingered. Mumma’s friend suggested Mum was nervous, I really couldn’t work out what had transpired.

I also jetsetted to Melbourne for the first time to see more of Mumma’s family and friends. I was pretty good on the plane, enthralled by the lady’s hair who was next to us. After sometime she fell asleep and her head lolled, the opportunity was too good to resist. I swiftly grasped a hunk of hair and reefed. She awoke swiftly and Mumma had to apologise. Melbourne was so cold- a mere two degrees when we landed! I was surprised to see Grandma there, she’s a bit like dicky knee-popping up everywhere. I have so many more great aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins there, I was passed from pillar to post and I loved it! When we returned home I sprouted two top teeth! You can imagine what my parents thought ‘Maybe that’s why he’s not been sleeping’ pfft, I say!
Love Darcy
xx

I am now seven months of age.

Celebration was in the air along with the intoxicating scent of cupcakes and the sound of scissors fashioning paper into bunting. It was to be a good day and I was looking swanky in my new outfit complete with bow tie. Friends and family alike rolled up to a church and gave me kisses and cuddles and God Parents (very Hollywood sounding) were bestowed upon me. Before long Mumma had me in an awkward grasp, with my head dangling over a bowl. A man in a white cloak-presumably a doctor, began a procedure where very warm, nay hot, water was poured over my unsuspecting head. As if this was not bad enough the doctor then suggested I demonstrate my new found faith by touching the flame of a candle. I previously had faith that Dadda and Mum had my bestest interests at heart but this had since diminished. What on Earth was going on and why was everyone smiling in return to my panicked glances as I scanned for an out? I was not even warned about such brutality. There was no out, I reached a petrified and tiny hand out and touched the lower part of the candle, what loon would touch the flame? This act seemed to please the doctor and I was released from this ordeal, free to go to a park where I was given well-earned gifts and people feasted on sizzled sausages and cupcakes. You may think this turmoil was enough for one month but then swimming lessons began. I know for a fact Mumma did not partake in such sessions until she was 26, but here was I, being told I would have to go. Babies that had survived past lessons, informed me that they were dunked and it was a fearful affair. So I feigned illness, what else was there to do. It was a splendid idea, whilst other babies were being semi drowned I sat on the edge of the pool with Mumma, drinking milk and casually draping my feet in the water. I chose to participate in the last lesson but then Mumma became brazen-pouring water on my head, so I promptly quivered my chin to mimic chill and was reefed from the water by Mum. This grand gesture
amongst other things Mum does for me, made me all the more keen to celebrate her first mothers’ day. In fact the night before I was so keen that I stayed up with Mumma between 10-12am and 4 5am and then pampered her with perfume and a two course cooked breakfast which daddy helped me with.

My physical triumphs for this month include pulling myself up to standing position- Mum and Daddy think it’s so cute now when I cry out throughout the night and they are greeted by me standing in my cot, I can now locate and scratch an itch; which has provided me with great relief and I have sprouted a second tooth-which I put to good use in gnawing meat which I’ve established a taste for oh and sand which I first experienced this month at the beach.

Love Darcy
xx

I am now six months of age.

This month I went to Brisbane again which turned out to be a God sent. You see since Mum and Dad have been dabbling with this solids lark I have developed a taste for food, but they are rather stingy (unsurprisingly) in their portion sizes. Grandma took one look at the morsels being offered to me and told Mumma to “feed the child”, so Mumma did-sweet potato mainly, I literally had it coming out of every orifice whilst Mum continued to jam more into me- cooing that it’s a super food. Speaking of orifices, I recently passed my first nugget. Mum and Dad found this to be momentous, which is crazy considering I can do far more interesting things like sit up all by myself, bunny hop everywhere (which I perfected to become a more efficient and socially acceptable crawl right before Grandma’s eyes) and my first tooth at the front, down the bottom, has erupted from my gum (This we celebrated with pancakes). In Brisbane, Grandma looked after me a couple of times whilst Mumma and Dadda went out, I must say I do not care for this new found freedom they seem to have adopted. On the topic of freedom, I had my first car ride without a car seat whilst on Stradbroke Island. I thoroughly enjoyed being held as the wind streamed through my hairs, however, it turns out that this was merely an oversight on my Mother’s behalf and my new found freedom would be quickly seized when we returned to the mainland. Dad suggested that Mumma deserved to receive some kind of Mother of the Year Trophy for this oversight but she is yet to receive it. I also met my Great Aunty and Uncle who lovingly labelled me an opportunist, I assume due to my nimbleness when it comes to touching things that I shouldn’t.
Love Darcy
xx

I am now five months of age.

I decided to give up nightly sleeps for Lent. I thought Mum and Dad would be so proud of me for being so selfless, but strangely they didn’t seem to be. They both have very different strategies to try to get me to sleep. Dadda marches me from one end of the apartment to the other with great stamina. When he gets to the end he swiftly turns and I feel I must turn my head too, Dad will sometimes make slight noises to get Mumma’s attention so that he can whisper “How’s he looking”, usually at this point I like to shoot mum one of my bestest grins and mumma says “Yes, he looks close to sleeping” thus, the marching continues. Mumma prefers the jiggling method, I personally don’t care for either but sometimes when I let my guard down I fall asleep- validating their methods. I was moved out of Mummy and Daddy’s room in the hope I’d sleep better, I did for a couple of nights but then decided this too was not for me. I thought my sleepless nights damn near broke Mumma as she kept crying on and off for two days straight, but thankfully it turned out she had some other baggage to contend with, I did go a little easier on her after this however.

On a brighter note, I can do a fair amount to entertain myself these days, I can blow bubbles, touch my toes-occasionally dabbling in sucking these, reach for my toys and stockpile them all in front of me-just in case someone has the audacity to utter my most disliked phrase “You’ve got to share”, I can kneel on all fours and rock back and forth, plank and I can eat food-referred to by my parents as solids (Though I have been secretly sucking on mum’s thongs and other found solid objects for sometime now). I don’t especially like food, Mumma wants to try baby-lead weaning which means simply that whilst other babies are eating rice cereal, I was offered a ginormous slimy steamed snow pea. I really can’t fathom the thinking behind this, but I guess I’ll continue to politely decline.
Love Darcy
xx

I am now four months of age.

I must begin by saying that getting mum to write my memoirs is akin to flogging a dead horse, not to mention, by the looks of things the old donkey has been ridden hard. A small portion of mum’s appearance could possibly be attributed to the fact I became as angry as hell for no reason at all. Could I have spoken, I would have cussed like a truckie, but instead I channelled my aggression into tensing every muscle in my tiny body and screaming like an infant possessed. I could see the toll this had on Mumma, so I gave her a break and let her feed me whilst she was standing. As we approached our first plane trip I could tell Mum was anxious but it went well. As we ascended, Mum said I must drink or my tiny eardrums would blow up. Though this thought was worrying, I simply wasn’t hungry. Mum, becoming increasingly flustered, eventually got her way by inserting her digit between my clenched gums and jamming in her, now exceedingly exposed, nipple. Such a scene was enough to make the hung-over lads beside us evacuate their seats in haste.

We landed in Brisbane to find Grandma of all people waiting for us. Mum started buggerising around with a new car seat as I got cuddles. By the time she put me in the car I was visibly shocked by mum’s appearance-a damp, limp shadow of her former self. We drove to God’s country to meet my future wives, dependent not upon my wants, instead, upon the dowry offered to me thrifty parents.

The next couple of weeks were a blur of friendly cuddles, kisses, photos and the aroma of people’s coffee breathe as they cooed to me in breathy tones. I decided if I could quietly roll away I could seek reprieve, but when I did roll for the first time you should have heard the squeals from Mumma and Aunty Lolly, my ears near bled!

Soon we were back at the airport after several teary goodbyes, Mumma said we were flying to see Daddy. Home here I come! I took one last breath of air conditioning prior to disembarking into the inevitable steamy heat that fuzzes one’s hair and moistens one’s pits when it became apparent the ol’ coot had boarded the wrong plane as this place was not Darwin. However, my long lost Daddy was there, perplexed I found out we were in Sydney. In the distance I could hear the ding of round two kisses and cuddles beginning- from more of Daddy’s friends and family this time. On Australia Day we went to fireworks at The Entrance, my word it was cold. Adorned in socks, pants, two tops and a breast feeding cape, I could still scarcely feel my limbs. I slept through fireworks more out self preservation than good sleeping habits, in these climates one must conserve one’s energy.

Upon our return to Darwin I became aware that I was unwell, many had tried, but it took those dreaded southerners to succeed in taking me down!

Love,
A snuffly Darcy xx

I’m now a quarter of a year old.

Now that I’m a quarter of a year old I’ve decided to reinvent myself and become a hippy. I’ve started turning my hair into dreadlocks, I do this by rapidly moving my head from side to side and throwing in a bit of lint which I’ve been collecting. I’ve had a spot of cradle cap which assists in my ‘unkept’ image. I’ve also been growing my nails rapidly, I will need these for playing my banjo. I can now blow bubbles and dribble which will add another dimension to my busking routine. Mum is not a fan of my new image, she cuts off or combs my dreadies, cures my cradle cap and cuts my banjo pluckers weekly, but I will persist. Strangely enough mum would prefer I be a Christmas pudding and dressed me as one on Christmas day! Dad wasn’t so keen on such an idea but I thought I was pretty ‘pucker’ as far as puds go.

Christmas was very fun. On Christmas eve we drove around to strangers’ homes and looked at their lights. On Christmas morning I awoke to mum and dad telling me Father Christmas came in the night, my brow furrowed like Benjamin Button’s, was Father Christmas like Sid? Turns out he’s much nicer as I got a little red seat given to me. We went to my friend Harrison’s for lunch and everyone kept saying what a great baby I am. Hmm, great baby doesn’t fit my image, I”ll have to rectify this.

I’m feeling more weary in my old age, I now sleep from about 8pm until around 4.30am and the go back to sleep until 7ish when daddy gets up and gets my bath ready. In fact on the day I turned three months I snoozed until 10am. I also love a good ol’ chat with my olds, I babble and gurgle at them to keep them entertained and quiet.

Well happy new year y’all!
Love,
Darcy xx

I am now ten weeks of age.

Although I don’t recall requesting that mummy and daddy pimp my ride, they recently purchased a fan for my pram. I was very grateful for such an addition in this humid climate and would often spy other babies checking out my green and yellow fan with bee detail. Mummy also said how safe the fan is, as it stops upon contact, daddy illustrated this point by jamming his finger into it-it didn’t stop. My concern then turned to the clip which is dodgy as the fan has fallen on my person after going over a bump, fortunately it was off at the time. I have found it challenging to put my hand out the side of the pram and shout to other babies “Yo dog, check my ride!” whilst keeping one eye on the fan.

This week mum decided to show me off at the school she worked at. We went to her old classroom, it was quite fun seeing loads of big kids and hearing familiar voices from when I was on the inside. Several names I already knew off by heart, turns out these children were of a boisterous nature! One such boy was very taken with me, he held my hand the whole time and played with my fingers, toes and looked at me with admiration. Mum was busy talking to other kids so I sat on her lap and lapped up the attention. Soon the boy said “Mrs Caddy he has no teeth, only gums!” Mumma said “That’s right” and looked down to see why I was wiggling so. The reason became apparent- I had a tangy finger inserted in my mouth. Mumma thankfully said “Oh don’t do that, you shouldn’t put your finger in Darcy’s mouth” to which the boy happily said “Ok!” and removed it. Next thing my singlet was jammed into my mouth and swirled around by mum and we made a hasty exit to the staffroom where mum cleaned me off with wipes and revealed to fellow educators that of all children’s fingers to enter my mouth, his was the dirtiest! Super! When mum told dad he was ropable and indignately spat “What kind of a bloody muppet puts his finger in a babies mouth? I’d love to do that to him!” mum said he was in love with me and did it out of love, not to be naughty. I must say it is a strange existence when one must insert a digit into a virginal orifice to demonstrate one’s affections.

Another outing we had this week was when Mum took me to a baby signing workshop, to which Daddy refused to go. I understood after watching grown men sing ‘Old McDonald’. The idea behind baby signing is that if your child can communicate, pre talking, with hand gestures it should avoid tantrums. Ironically, the whole time we were there (One and a half hours) one baby was in his bedroom screaming his frickin guts out, coughing and moaning. The baby’s parents didn’t even bat an eyelid, they did look in on him however and said to one another “He’s fine”. Mum kept looking around but no one else seemed to care either. I looked at mum and giggled-I can think of one sign that baby will give his parents. Later mum spoke to another attendee who declared she felt so uncomfortable she began lactating, had I noticed I would have urged her to boldly stand with drenched t-shirt and declare “This my friends, is a sign of child cruelty”.

In the early hours of Tuesday morning, dad and mum’s anniversary, I awoke to my cot swaying from side to side. Scared of what I might see I kept my eyes clamped tightly shut as I heard even the door of our room vibrating and Mum saying “What is that? I’m scared!”. Curiousity got the better of me, I sprung my eyes open to see Mum was tightly gripping Dads shorts and Dad looking concerned. They then both slowly walked to the door and opened it, I slammed my eyes shut once more if someone was out there daft enough to shake the door for ages before coming in, what would they do to me? I played possum quick smart! Mum said maybe it’s because it’s so hot out there and cool in our room and … she’s a teacher. Dad said it’s nothing but thought it was an earthquake, he was right. At least for me it wasn’t as scary as what I thought I’d woken up to.

I believe in my next edition I’ll be 3 months old and will have endured my first Christmas.
Love Darcy
Xx

I am now eight weeks of age.

This week I graduated from Early Birds Mothers’ Group. I approached this event with mixed emotions, on one tiny hand I’d be revered, perhaps don a small mortarboard, but on the other, we’d no doubt be traipsing back to the incredibly boring mothers’ group aforementioned. To my disdain, I was far from revered I was instead stripped naked and placed on a very hard surface covered in a cheap piece of paper whilst a lady oohed and aahed about the numbers beneath me and how I’d ‘filled out’. They then measured my head, moved my legs into uncomfortable positions and finally scared the living hell out of me by almost dropping me and cooed ‘he has a good startle reflex’. I reckon, I wet myself. Saddened and embarrassed I fell asleep and awoke to being put into the steaming car. I had obviously slept through the ceremony where everyone claps and I get a certificate. At least we further celebrated with another mother, by going to a cafe. Mum and the other mother were talking about different sorts of contraptions. The other mother said she met a girl that didn’t use a contraption and now she has a 3 month old and is pregnant. Mum asked if she could breast feed to which her companion offered “Well I know a kangaroo can be pregnant, have a baby in its pouch and still feed so I guess so”. By the look on Mumma’s face I could tell I wasn’t alone in thinking this lady was a tit short of an udder.

The following day mum said she’s taking me to a pediatrician, I mistakingly thought someone would finally rub my small, tired feet. Alas, we drove up the road it was in only to turn around at the end and repeat. When finally mum located it-even in my giddy state I could see why it was hard to find. It was a house with boarded up windows. I tried my best to resist being taken from the car, I held the harness with whitened knuckles, I did the banana and finally went boneless, but mum won and took me into the ‘surgery’. As we approached the ‘desk’ (a sideways bookshelf) my fears were confirmed, this place was indeed shonky. The doctor was apparently still in hospital, so was running late, I let forth a prayer “Please God at least don’t let it be a psychiatric hospital”. After some waiting an old man of Indian persuasion with his pants hanging down like a veteran puff daddy and broken shoes staggered out of a filthy-looking, creaking door and ushered us into a room. I was placed upon a bed, to again be stripped of my clothing and dignity. This was too much, the paper was bad, a frayed sheet was worse. Again they did all these bizarre tests culminating in again frightening me and as compensation the ‘doctor’ all the while whistled at me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, my prayers clearly unanswered, he had escaped the nut house.

On Saturday, I heard Mum say to Dad “Now that Darcy’s shots have taken effect, we can take him to Casuarina. My tears began to well ‘Oh, will the fear and fallout of being shot ever subside?’ As it happens, Casuarina is a lovely, cool building crammed with people whom each possess a different number of teeth and hold a vast array of props whilst doing the can-can. Evidently when you proceed to the front of your respective can-can line you click your tongue, shake your head and wave a plastic card around at a young, vague, spotty looking reveler who points to numbers on a machine. Absurd, I prefer the chicken dance. Dodging and weaving our way through the dancing hordes, out of nowhere a gypsy appeared, wanting to take me into his shanty, I smiled smugly ‘Mum and Dad would never go for this’ turns out I know very little of them. Before long I was in his shanty, wrapped in a no doubt parasite ridden blanket, whilst a bright light sporadically burned into my retinas and the gypsy poked at my chins. When I was able to focus my now blood-shot, glaring eyes I could just make out daddy and mummy condoning such torture by watching, waving and smiling at me from behind the gypsy. Worse still is we have to go back to collect something, after this stunt I can assure you it’s not the trust I had in my parents!

I appreciate this reflection was a long time coming, I don’t like to push things as it is clear that these folks have a number of unpleasant consequences to draw upon.
Love,
Darcy xx