Monday, 16 July 2012

That is my sunshine. That is my summer.

The gloomy weather during this summer-that-never-was has ensured us plenty of face to face house time.  Rukai is a learning machine - like a giant Chia Baby sprouting a new crop of skills just by adding milk and a play mat.  His progress would amaze the skeptics and I'd be lying to say it did not amaze me.  But this last bit also pisses me off.  Severely.  Because I should not be amazed at my son growing up like all babies do.  I need to learn to expect it.  I am severely pissed off that the bods planted those seeds of doubt that I've accidentally watered somewhere along the way.  Like the bad gremlins, multiplying and raising hell.  I need to smother those seeds in slug pellets, kill the weeds, plant a butterfly garden.  I need to do these things but the sun won't bloody come out and it is not helping my mood.

The only thing I should be amazed at is the mere fact that we actually created this boy.  Our precious squidge.  I look at him sometimes and just cannot believe that we made him.  I can't even make instant oatmeal without it boiling over half the time and here we created a person.  This magnificent person, full of promise, gunning to shatter the status quo.  And he will.

But I tell you what, this bloody SYNDROME is a pig.  I hate it and it just keeps grunting and rolling in the mud.  I am constantly obsessing about milestones, consulting Dr Google after Rukai's in bed to see if things are fairly common amongst other babies.  You know, the 'normal' ones.  And sure enough, they pretty much are.  I know clearly what I see and what he is capable of.  I know he is getting on just fine but still that negativity festers thanks to those aloof medical bastards.  Blue day, I'm afraid.  Tired of frowning.

Deep breath, work it out.  One day at a time.  Baby steps.  Any other motivational clich√© to pull my head out of my ass.

I'm kicking myself furiously for not giving him more tummy time earlier, since his neck is still pretty weak for five months.  But maybe I'm just being neurotic - of course Doc Google came into play on this one but it sure seems this too is pretty normal for many his age.  Nevertheless, he now owns a bubba sized chair and he is probably more determined to be able to sit upright in it than we are for him.  Our daily sessions of 'roly poly' followed by those glorious press ups that make me grin ear to ear when I see the elated expression on his face in discovering this new amazing view of the world.  The important thing is that he's clearly cognitive of what he is learning and equally curious about the world around him.  I doubt very much that any syndrome is going to bring this to a halt.  Ever.  Nothing has a snowball's chance in hell of bringing this to a halt.  Take your stats and shove them up your collective ass.

The latest skills also include recognition that his left arm is attached and his efforts to control it.  So stretching his arm out and shouting at his clenched fist has become de rigeur.  Maybe he's practicing for the podium.  For Wimbledon.  For St. Andrews.

He's also figured out that he can fit his thumb in his mouth alongside the bottle, which has me in fits of laughter every time he does it.  What the hell, two for the price of one.  He loves his Mr Bumbles, his billy goat and his tiger rattle, having gummed them all to within an inch of their fabric lives.  He gets bored easily and is very particular about which activity he is interested in undertaking at a particular time:  want to look outside, want a cuddle, want to lie on the sofa, want to eat, want a clean nappy, want a cuddle, want to lie on my play mat, want my chair, want a cuddle.

Note how 'want to nap' is not in that list.  Doesn't come up unless we get him in the pram and go walking.  Damn.  The only way I can get him to sleep is to exercise.  Where have they put the hidden camera because this is surely some kind of practical joke?

He laughs and converses with the ceiling fan every evening before going up to bed.  We have tied a red bandanna around one of the blades which he thinks is hilarious.  I wish I was so easily amused.  He is getting used to the breeze outside and - now that he can bear to keep his eyes open outdoors - is becoming more interested in looking around.

He is five months old and doing just fine.  Now to convince my subconscious.

And other things are growing with him.  I'm not sure I can survive watching his father with him any longer, because my heart is going to explode.  The way they look at each other.  Rukai's expression says 'my hero, my teacher, my comfort'.  More.  The quiet cuddles, the conversation-free strolls in the back garden.  So much to say and so often not requiring a sound.

Dear lord, I could not love someone any more.  Some two any more.

That is my sunshine.  That is my summer.

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