I am now seven weeks of age.

On Monday I awoke at a reasonable hour and could not contain my excitement, what I was excited about I have no idea, but laying in my cot, I flashed my pearly gums-grinning and chortling at my parents until my euphoria eased. Making obvious how uneventful our lives can be, Mumma selected this tidbit to divulge at a new Mothers’ Group, which by the way was as exciting as my time in utero when I was but a blind, deaf, limbless fleshy nub. To this a fellow groupie suggested that at seven weeks “a baby’s eyes come in” and that’s the reason I was smiling. Turns out I can’t even crack a smile without being critiqued and pray tell if my eyes have only just come in, what did I have there before? Large gaping sockets or perhaps balls for eyes?

This weekend Daddy went away. It was nice to not have to endure the stomach churning activity he refers to as ‘The Giant Drop‘. The so called Giant Drop occurs when I have let my guard down and engaged in slumber, it starts with a kiss (of death) soon after which I am dropped from great height, at a speed which does not allow my screams to escape me until I have reached the bottom. At this time my screams are audible, the tears that accrued on the way down are able to stream and mum has the audacity to refer to me as the ‘Screamapillar’. I believe the goal of this ghastly act is that I will sleep on the soft landing at the bottom. They fail to comprehend how challenging it is to sleep when my stomach is in my mouth. As an added compensation for Dad going away my Grandma and Aunty came. The minute I clapped eyes on their frazzled coiffures, I knew they were relatives on mum’s side. Having been born into a quiet existence I was scarcely prepared to be reefed from one set of arms to another all the while large foreign lips, wet with anticipation, glaring down at me and slapping, without discrimination, against my every inch of exposed skin. I feel no shame in admitting I feigned hunger and used my trusty nappy soiling technique to get some down time. While here, they recorded a book for me. It was about a nut-brown hare. Grandma misread the text and kept crooning “oh brown nut hair, how I love you” I find this to be a rather interesting take on a child’s novel.

Until next time,
Darcy xx

I am now six weeks of age!

I am lucky to be able to share with you this week as I have sustained two shot wounds-one to each thigh. Surprisingly, mum did cry more than me whilst I was being shot. Dad said I was so brave, he has since laid off threatening to put me down. Not only were the shots against me this week, I came into contact with whooping cough. I don’t know why mum persists in trying to befriend people with babies but she struck yet again. This time she was chatting away to some bird about me whilst I pretended to be sleeping in my pram covered with a blanket. I peeped out to see them shake hands but then the lady said her son had been sick with whooping cough. These words had scarcely escaped the woman’s lips when my pram started to take off. Mumma asked the lady to please move her pram, I soon realised it must have been in our way because ‘bang’ my pram crashed into it like some sort of monster truck. I held on for dear life as wind whipped through the blanket and my hair. We were clearly going at a cracking pace. Mum didn’t stop until we got to the car. When the blanket was finally lifted, even in my woozy state, it was apparent that mum had been wildly wiping her hand with my wet ones and cleaning the pram handle, the wipes were carelessly discarded and before I knew it I was nursing my tiny whiplashed neck in the shower with mum. Mum stayed up all that night listening to my every sound and googling the dreaded ailment, needless to say the sneaky hand from the end of the cot almost stopped my heart many a time that night.
It is with surprise amidst the trauma this week that my vision has improved. I can now lock my eyes on mum’s hair, I find it to be both fascinating and unruly. She giggles when I do this and says “Cut it out, you’ll give me a complex. You have the same hair as me you know!”. Well played mum, guess who has a complex now?!
To my parents’ pleasure this week I have started smiling (for real, not just as a windy hoax) I have also stifled a giggle at mum, it was hard not to-it’s the hair! They were also pleased to hear I am of average (or perfect) weight and above average height.
Well I’m off to be swaddled (not waddled-what an embarrassing mistake!)
Love Darcy xx

I am now five weeks of age!

Allow me to begin by airing my disgrace that mummy and daddy did indeed indulge in eating little boys on Saturday night. They thought I wouldn’t know, having been put into bed asleep, but I awoke from my slumber to the noise of them eating. They dipped them in sauce to mask the smell, but I knew. I lay in my cot in a state of panic ‘what if they finish those ones and come for me?’. Come to think of it, I’m often in this state, particularly at night as mum is always saying she is worried that a bloke called ‘Sids’ might stop me breathing in the night. I don’t know who this Sids character is, but because of her concern, at random times throughout the night, mum jams her hand through the bars at the bottom of my cot to touch my belly, presumably to check that Sids hasn’t got to me. I tell you, the fright of this is enough to stop anyone breathing-who needs Sids?! No wonder I need my nappy changed so often during the night. As if I don’t have enough reasons to be scared, this week mum and dad keep talking about how I will be getting shot when I am six weeks, that’s next week!! Mum wants dad to come as she said she’ll cry more than I will. Really?! Pretty sure I’ll be crying a lot if someone is shooting at me! And, in case the shots aren’t enough to end my meagre life, dad often says “Just put him down” to mum, fortunately mum replies with a smile “Already? But we’ve only had him for such a short time!”, thankfully someone is batting on my team. But through all this worry I have managed to stifle a smile or two, I only do this when it’s possible that I have wind so it keeps them guessing as to whether I find them mildly amusing or if I just need to belch. With regard to wind, I find it rather difficult to burp this week, dad and mum have employed many a technique but sometimes nothing works, that’s when the wind goes south. In the quiet of the night, mum and dad chortle when I stealthily fluff, then I hear them say things like “thats a big fluff to come out of such a tiny bottom” or “That’s my boy!” I guess my fluffs weren’t delivered as stealthily as I’d hoped.
During the past few weeks I’ve been working out my neck muscles, I’ve felt these exercises to be paramount as dad and mum constantly wrap my arms up tightly in a blanket, I believe this is called waddling? Anyway, in this state I have no way of defending myself against bugs whilst in my cot or getting my parents’ attention whilst being held, apart from rapidly moving my head back and forth like a tiny head banger or wood pecker, if you will. My commitment in this area has paid off and to my credit, I can now lift my head with ease, even whilst on my stomach. Soon I’ll be able to shake my head in disappointment like daddy does to mummy when she says jokes that don’t hit the mark. Like in Mothers’ Group this week mumma asked about how one finds the schedule for mums and bubs movies at the cinemas, someone replied “You look on the website and under the movie title it says ‘babes'”, mum said “Well obviously that’s for me then, I’m quite a babe!” as you can imagine you could have heard a pin drop, at this point I decided I needed to be able to shake my head. Well that’s it from me, there may be no more entries in the future if the shootings and plans to put me down are successful,
Darcy xx

I am now four weeks of age!

To my friends outside of this territory. I wish to share my reflections of each week with you starting this week. Sadly, I rely on my mummy for recording my insights. So you will probably not receive these in a timely manner, but nevertheless, will get them. I am now four weeks. Daddy went to work half days this week. Mummy panicked the first day and kept touching the soft spot on my head saying “I think it’s sunken!” and asking “Why has he been drinking for two hours straight?!” she then did what she calls ‘googling’ and whisked me back to the hospital where it all began. Turns out I was just very hungry and my soft spot had sunken because I’d been sucking for two hours-your head would sink in places too! I’d also put on almost half a kilo since last week!
When we got home daddy came home, all of a sudden mum and dad started racing around jamming things in cupboards and shutting doors, changing clothes and bantering about journalists coming and baby bonuses. Two strangers then showed up and chatted about how mum cuts costs-well it turns out mummy is rather thrifty. I then had copious amounts of photos taken of me and some with mum and dad, this became monotonous for me, so I decided to get cranky to put a stop to it. This didn’t work, the camera man just kept snapping, at this point I decided I’d have to work on making real tears to help mummy and daddy feel more sorry for me in the future. It took me some time but by Sunday I cried in the car and tears were streaming. When mummy and daddy saw, they felt so sad for me-job done!
The next day, all three of us appeared in the paper. Now when people say “congratulations on your baby, we saw you in the paper!” mummy and daddy fight the urge to ask “which time?”, having already appeared in the paper in the birth announcement section. As a family we are kind of a big deal!
On Wednesday, mummy and I went to mothers’ group. Mumma kept saying “we’re going to make some friends!” but I’ve heard daddy say that I have lots of friends waiting for me back home that we can go camping with, so I wasn’t too worried with these other screaming okes. I decided to drink for the whole 2 hours, except when I got tired of that and I decided to shit right up my vest. I didn’t want mum to have time to befriend anyone because I’d be lumped with their baby whilst they have coffee and discuss my feeding, sleeping and toileting habits. Surely I deserve some decorum? Furthermore, one mother said her baby girl kept pulling her hair so her husband shaved the baby’s hair off! I pull my hair, I hope my parents don’t get any ideas as my hair is pretty close to my scalp, really who are these barbarians?! Speaking of barbarians, I also question my dad, can you believe he asked mum if she’d like to eat some little boys for lunch?! I think I best make a plan to get out of here, the heat is clearly affecting them! So far the most I can do is roll on my side and then I’m so plumb tuckered out that I fall asleep, I wonder how long it will take me to roll to Brisbane? Well that’s it for now, love Darcyx