I'm loving being a dad, much more than I ever thought possible. There's no way to describe the sense of pride I have when out in public with him - I want everybody to admire him and think he's as perfect as we do. Silly really...
This will almost certainly prove to be famous last words, but...whisper it quietly... it really doesn't seem to be all that much of a struggle so far, either. Obviously his excellent temperament is a big help in this case, but nothing I thought I'd hate (crying very loudly, puking on my t-shirts, nappy changing, etc) has proved to be anything of a burden.
Even the broken sleep, which is nothing new to me anyway, I'm managing to laugh off pretty easily with a few judicious cups of coffee. Although I must admit the missus' sterling night-time duties have played a big part in this!
There, now I've gone and said it. I'll get home tonight to find he started bawling at midday and he won't stop again for another eight years.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Thursday, October 05, 2006
He sleeps, he feeds, he cries, he poos, he sleeps again.
Babies don't have a lot of variety in their lives at this stage, do they? And neither do new parents, truth to be told.
Junior is going through the aforementioned routine day after day. Of course he's still too young to communicate in any way with us, or to show any visual recognition, affection or any of that stuff. It'll come though.
I'm worried that he might be boss-eyed. If he is, he'll have got it from me, I had to have my eyes operated on as a very young lad, although they're OK now. My only spell as an in-patient in my life as it goes, and even though I was only about five or six years old, it was awful. I can remember one of my fellow patients was in there because he had managed to stick a pencil into his eye - the nurses had to hold him down mob-handed to force some medicine into him, the majorioty of which he used to sick back up immediately afterwards...little sod.
Anyway, I digress. Despite the lack of real action, we still love him of course. He seems a reasonably contented chap, he likes clasiscal music and Richard Hawley, but not the free jazz experimentalism that I'm quite into just now, which causes him to bawl at the top of his voice. I'll have to play that stuff with the headphones on, methinks...
Junior is going through the aforementioned routine day after day. Of course he's still too young to communicate in any way with us, or to show any visual recognition, affection or any of that stuff. It'll come though.
I'm worried that he might be boss-eyed. If he is, he'll have got it from me, I had to have my eyes operated on as a very young lad, although they're OK now. My only spell as an in-patient in my life as it goes, and even though I was only about five or six years old, it was awful. I can remember one of my fellow patients was in there because he had managed to stick a pencil into his eye - the nurses had to hold him down mob-handed to force some medicine into him, the majorioty of which he used to sick back up immediately afterwards...little sod.
Anyway, I digress. Despite the lack of real action, we still love him of course. He seems a reasonably contented chap, he likes clasiscal music and Richard Hawley, but not the free jazz experimentalism that I'm quite into just now, which causes him to bawl at the top of his voice. I'll have to play that stuff with the headphones on, methinks...
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