Three months and two days

I'm being slightly haunted by an uncharacteristically stern comment from Penelope Leach (can't check the exact quote because the book is packed away ready for moving house). Something along the lines of 'don't get cross if your baby wants to be held all the time and cries when you try to put her down; it's not her who's being unreasonable, it's you'.

Unreasonable? Maybe. But only in the sense that human beings ARE partly unreasonable. Show me any person who wouldn't feel 'unreasonable' enough to want to put their baby down when by two o'clock in the afternoon they'd not eaten since the previous evening, been woken twice in the night, not showered or dressed, and not spoken to another adult for hours, and I'll show you a saint/liar. It's not that I want to deny Alice's need to be held, but it doesn't make me a bad mother if I also want to perform the basic functions necessary to my own survival and sanity, does it?

Another writer who I mostly respect, Naomi Stadlen, has also made me feel guilty/indignant with her take on 'maternal ambivalence', which she claims is NOT an inevitable part of the mothering experience. She quotes women writers who describe feeling wretched and angry when they couldn't get time away from their babies, and concludes that it's only when mothers want time to themselves - to read, write, earn a living etc - that they feel anger towards their babies. If they gave up these foolish desires they would be a lot happier and not hate their babies any more - voila, no ambivalence after all.

I don't think I would ever *express* anger towards Alice for crying incessantly. But I do want her to shut up without having to attach her to my person 24/7, and not just because I hate to see her upset (though I do). Sorry Penelope and Naomi, but I'm only human.

Three months and one day

In theory I quite like taking Alice to the clinic to be weighed (10lb 13oz as of Tuesday), as there's toys and beanbags and a chance to chat to other parents. And yet in reality there's always one person there who makes me wish I'd stayed at home. This week, a well-meaning but irritating old woman, who came and looked over my shoulder while her daughter and grandson were in with the health visitors:

WMBIOW: I see you're bottle-feeding - it's taking such a long time...
Me: Well unfortunately she can't breastfeed because of her cleft palate [thinking: even if I was choosing to bottle-feed with no medical reason, it's really none of your business].
WMBIOW: Ooh, no! Aw. But don't worry, they can operate on that these days you know.
Me: Yes, she's having her first operation in a couple of weeks [thinking: oh REALLY, wow, they can operate? Thanks for the info, somehow I'd missed out on that despite being her MOTHER].

I then sat and gritted my teeth through her vaguely pitying noises until she changed the subject to knitting. Sigh.

Twelve weeks and four days

Alice had her first trip to the beach yesterday, which judging by her smiles (not given lightly) she thoroughly enjoyed:

Twelve weeks

Some of Alice's favourite things, at 12 weeks:

Colours: red, black, white, pink
Food: milk, milk and more milk
Music: yodelling, Star Trek themes (TNG and Enterprise), Baroque, jazz
Hobbies: riding in buggy, looking at stuff, sucking, bouncing
Toys: zebra rattle, cuddly elephant, daddy's nose/beard
Places: buggy, rocker chair, anyone's lap

Eleven weeks and one day

I shouldn't laugh, but Alice's latest antics are reminding me overwhelmingly of the 'drinking problem' gag from Airplane - she is learning to suck her fingers but doesn't reliably remember how to do it yet, and frequently ends up mashing her fist into her eye or ear instead, then looking slightly puzzled. I must say it will be a great boon to her parents when she masters it properly, as we won't have to spend hours in uncomfortable postures while holding a dummy in her mouth to keep her happy any more.