Parasites: The Next Generation

Hamish at Three Months

Corbin at Three Months

Dear Hamish, 

For the past three months, we have looked at you and believed that we have cloned your brother.  And, judging from the pictures on the left and right of this text – can you blame us?

But, here’s the thing.  Over the last 15 weeks you have slowly been showing us who you are and this is what we have learned.  

You have an amazing sense of humour.  Yesterday, I buckled you into your car seat and as the last click was heard so too did I hear your diaper being filled.  As you filled it, you looked up at me and smiled.  And, so it was out of the car seat and onto the change table to get you cleaned up and in a new diaper while you continued to coo and smile.  You appear to be ticklish and it is not that hard to make you giggle – your Dad is especially good at it.  As a rule, when you are not hungry, tired or needing a new nappy – you are contented and smiling.  The evening fussiness seems to have gone and left us with a very happy baby.

On the move is what you like to be.  Whether you are standing up on someone’s lap, riding in the car, the baby bjorn or the stroller.  As long as you are on the move.  Sometimes when we stop at a traffic light, you get agitated but as soon as we hit the gas pedal you are quiet once again.  I love to take you for walks because it is so easy to see that you love the outdoors.  You lie snuggled in your buggy marveling at the simple things – the trees and the sky.  This is enough to both stimulate you and keep you content.

 It is easy for us to see that you love your brother.  It is amazing to watch the two of you ~ especially in the bath.  You sit next to him and look over at him with wonder, excitement and admiration in your eyes.  You watch him studiously as he plays with his toys or pretends to make a cake using the bubbles as icing.  I will be very surprised if the two of you don’t end up being the best of friends.

We know the cues now and this makes everything so much smoother.  When you want to go to bed, you get niggly and don’t want to be held.  You are still sleeping in a bassinet next to our bed and when we put you in your ‘bucket’ you settle down.  Sometimes you will like there for 45 minutes or so just looking around and indulging in your own zen moment.  And then, you are asleep.  It breaks my heart to think of moving you away from my bedside.  We put Corbin in his crib when he was only three weeks old, but you are harder for me to let go of.  Perhaps because you are my last baby.  Soon, however, I will have to let go.  For now, I am simply starting by putting you down for naps in your big crib.  You seem to be adjusting though I swear that every time I put you in your crib your pouty face seems to be telling me.  ”Mom, this isn’t my bucket.”  When we are on the go, you sleep a lot.  When we stay at home, your naps are short.  Your brother was – and still is – such a regular and predictable napper.  Maybe you are not.  Time will tell and we will figure it out together.

For now, though, we are settling into a good routine.   You go to bed at 8pm when your brother does and the two of you get up at 7am.  The past three months have been amazing.  It seems like just yesterday that you came to us and at the same time it also feels like you have been with us forever. 

Right now as I complete this post, your Dad is making you laugh.  Listening to the two of you makes me feel alive, complete and content.  We don’t want you to grow up to fast, but we also can’t wait to see more of your beautiful personality shine through.

Lots of love,

Mama.

The thing I dreaded the most before I even became a parent happened on New Year’s Eve. My son puked – a lot. And, I’m the kind of person who upon inhaling that acrid smell, I begin to wretch myself. The evening started out in fine order. Our family braved our first ever outing for an evening at a friends house. The kind that I remember as a child where the parents pack up the kids – pjs, favourite blankies and all – and head over to a friends house with the intention of staying late. Corbin was even excited that Auntie Naomi had a bed he could retire to when he was tired. We arrived to a warm house full of food, fine beverages & friendship. I fed Hamish while sipping on a G&T and Loch got Corbin settled in front of the television with snacks and a DVD of a train documentary of the Flying Scotsman. After Hamish was fed and happy, Naomi and I puttered around her kitchen getting more appies ready, listening to Christmas music – which is still allowed on New Year’s Eve – and chatting. She even made me a fancy – but small – martini drink. I felt deliciously carefree.

At about 9pm, poor wee Hamish – who had a cold – became really unhappy. Suddenly, managing both him and 2.5, who now was up one and half hours past bedtime became a challenge. So, we packed it in and headed for home. I was feeling a bit off and not long after I tucked Corbin in, I lost all the appies and the martini. I felt better afterwards, but completely chilled to the bone. I pumped some milk for Hamish and then decided to head for bed. I quickly became achy as well as cold and was trying my best to warm myself with a heating pad and lull myself to sleep with a bit of Handel when I heard Corbin cry and Loch yell, “I need some help!” In that moment, I knew two things. 1. That it wasn’t the booze and 2. That Corbin was also throwing up.

My poor lad was standing in the bathroom covered in vomit having puked on his bed, on the bathroom floor, in the toilet and in the sink. He had never really thrown up before and stood there with a sad look of shock and dismay on his face & jammies covered in chunks. I got him out of his wet clothes and ran him a bath. Once we had him in clean PJs and back into bed, I myself crawled into bed but not before being sick again.

Then, not 45 minutes later it all happened again. This time, Loch had got Corbin a bucket – well the roast pan to be precise. There are many things we, as parents, have to teach our children. And one of them is how to puke in a bucket instead of all over the front of your Thomas the Tank Engine jammies. Having already been sick myself, it didn’t make me feel any worse to be around him. His puke did not make me puke. And, interestingly enough, when he puked the next day I did not have the urge to lose my cookies. Perhaps it is true that when you become a mom there are things you can do that before you were incapable of.

Be that as it may, I was still feeling ill and had to take care of Hamish. So, Loch took up residence on the couch so that he could hear Corbin’s first cry and get to him to help the wee man learn to puke in a roast pan.

Somewhere in all of this the clock struck twelve and we swiftly moved from 2008 to 2009. Corbin was standing on the bathroom counter looking green with fluiids dripping down his face – tears, snot & vomit. Loch said, “Happy New Year Corbin – you look awful. Perhaps you’ll look better when 2009 ends.”

Poor Corbin was sick every 45 minutes or so throughout the rest of the night. I was cold and achy and not one of us – except Hamish – actually got to sleep before 4:30am. It was a dreadful night. We divided and conquered. He watched over Corbin and I took care of Hamish.

As I lay in bed in the wee hours of 2009 curled around my heating pad, I thought about my family and how in a crisis we pull together perfectly. Loch was amazing that night, completely attentive and so caring. He wiped Corbin’s sweaty brow and he held my hair back when I threw up in the kitchen sink and in the midst of it all I found myself feeling completely and utterly grateful for my family.