Soppy

DISCLAIMER: The following post is short, badly written and won't make you laugh. 

I just had a bit of an emotional outburst.

I'm all sorts of soppy, me. You may be coming to that conclusion of your own accord, but let me save you the bother with the following tale:

Our little guy is always happiest when he's being cuddled, rocked, walked around, but this evening he was really unhappy with any attempt at putting him down for a moment.

Which is why I found myself pacing our living room, him held close in front of me with his eyes wide open, me sweating profusely, the stereo playing the Beatles.

We did that for about half an hour, something I'm now quite used to. As time goes on his eyes usually start to roll around in their sockets. We call it his Gizmo impression (you know, from Gremlins?)

Tonight, his Gizmo impression had been going for about ten minutes when "Here Comes the Sun" started playing. He dropped off to sleep while it played. At the same time, tears of happiness started rolling down my face. I have these moments every now and then, where I am just overwhelmed by the strength of feeling I have for that tiny boy. 

It doesn't last long, a matter of seconds, then I'm back to normal (which is to say, all gruff and manly, obviously. Like a cross between a bear and a bad tempered crocodile. Grrrrrrr.)

He let me put him down to bed too, and half an hour on he's still sleeping. I should cry more often.

Made me cry. For I am a wuss.

Two Weeks

My baby is two weeks and three hours old.  Amazing.

Fourteen WHOLE DAYS and we haven't managed to break him yet, he hasn't gone significantly wrong and (touches wood, caresses rabbit's foot, eats four leaf clover, nails horseshoe to self, seeks out seagull to entice into pooing on me) having a child actually feels kind of, well, *whispers* normal.

Obviously, I still look at him several times each day and think "bloody hell.  That's a baby, and it's mine".  I don't know when or if that will ever change.  He's a tiny life and, in partnership with Mrs L, I'm responsible for him.  Sometimes I emit an involuntary squeak when I remember that.

I can't quite believe how quickly he's changing.  Every day, in amongst the nappy changes, the screaming, the little bits of sick, the lengthy naps, there are new things.  I know they all do this, but this is my one doing it.

Eyes which are a little wider every day.

Starting to look over my shoulder rather than AT my shoulder.

His hair is already longer.

I'm pretty certain the tiny hands are just a tiny bit less tiny.

His cry has developed; from the steady pitch of the newborn to the incredibly insistent, anger and desperation infused wail he is now capable of.

Demonstrating his crying skills (also uppercuts)

If you're already a parent you probably read the above with a wry smile.  Perhaps you thought "yes, but wait for the tantrums, the colic, the myriad challenges ahead of you.  Just you wait, rookie, remember these peaceful days of teeny tiny baby time".

You're right.  I know there's a bumpy road ahead of me, Mrs L and The Creature.  But we're looking forward to it.