In truth the above title is not entirely accurate. Baby Vick is a placid, peace loving, smiley smiley baby (except when in front of an iPhone). Wherever we go people remind me of this with their complimentary words about his nature. I take it, but I know it is the truth for only the daylight hours.
Come night time he gets connected with his inner grizzlelator. I don’t know what’s happened to my dreamboat boy but he seems to think night times suck and he raises his voice about it. About 4 times a night or so. Yeah, so, what’s that about? I wouldn’t mind some answers, but as a second time Mummyo I know I can forget finding a straight forward one. Although I have a few sneaky suspicions (allow me to list):
1. Teething – those white little feckers are just sitting there ready to cause reeking havoc. I can see them. They’re hardly hiding anymore, so what are they waiting for? A few more months of torture?
2. Perhaps he’s hungry – this Hulk baby seems to always be starving despite 3 solid meals a day, numerous snacks and breastfeeding slurps in between. I have to wonder if I’m breeding a Sumo wrestler? That or he is mid growth spurt. One of those two seem more realistic but I’ll let you be the judge.
3. Separation anxiety? What can I say he’s one big fan of Mummy. Who could blame him? I’m a great chick AND I have an endless supply of built in milkshakes. I can see the appeal. I wouldn’t want to wake up and think I’d lost me either.
4. Developmental business – Perhaps he is waking up wanting to practise his new coolio tricks ie. sitting up high and proud like a King on his throne and/or rolling over and over across the lounge like as if he’s been launched down the biggest mofo hill you’ve ever seen.
5. A snippet of all?
I’ve consider some nasty pasty sleep training. He probably needs a little showing who is boss but then I think, what if he is really actually hungry??? Or scared of the dark or something?? and then I feel sorry for the little Hulk and then I know I’ve been completely Mummy manipulated. I’ve been wrapped around a little 7 month olds finger. So seemingly I’m just his boobing slave. A boobing slave who has to surrender my mouth as well for where he likes to keep his fingers during the feeding event. ‘Cos where else would they be comfortable?
The kid is making me feel like some crazed zombie/psycho/bitch face due to the night time shenanigans but I will admit his recent preference for little snuggles, although they only be 10 seconds long, are OK with me. They were long reserved for Daddy who seemingly deserved them more than his boobing-night-time-slave-old-pal-me, but he’s been swayed. He’s seeing I’m an alright sort after all and a sneaky snuggle is now allowed. Perhaps he can sense morale is low?
Baby Vick has such a love hate relationship with his big brother. I get a little warmth inside when I hear them giggle at each other. Generally it’s when Little Vick is doing something a little daring or naughty and Baby Vick somehow knows it and cackles in cahoots. They’re naughty for sure, but they’re cute and at this point not too much danger. The potential of the future duo however frightens me…. they’re going to have a long history of breaking windows, screeching noise, damaging furniture, ripping shit, drawing on walls and cutting each others hair. I know it now.
The only time the duo is fractured and the grizzlelator turns on is when his big brother is playing with his mohawk. Yes, the babe is precious about zee hair. Little Vick seems to have sensed that so goes out of his way to brush his fingers through it, rub it or like yesterday put his lollypop in it.
Baby Vick has started the funniest little jibberish filled chats. Oh they do make me smile. He really thinks that I can understand gah-gah-gah-gah-da-da-da-gah-gah-gah-da-da-da- da- da- da -da-da-dadada….although I’m starting to understand what his first word might just be and it ain’t going to be celebrating this boobing slave. Typical.