Apparently packaging really IS all that and then some

At least I managed to get all the packaging tape off while the little dude had a marvellous time rolling around with what was supposed to be going in the recycling bin.

One for Poppa and Uncle Alex. And a few more besides.

Helping Daddy make gardeny type stuff (ergo, a mess).

Uncle Stu being a bad influence (just as the camera battery went flat, hence the crap picture).

In his boy boy carseat because trying to jam him into the capsule finally just got ridiculous.

Jack's paws are apparently the. Best. Thing. Ever. About 2 minutes later I caught him chewing on said paws though ... not such a great idea.

Holding hands.

Awwwww...

!

He's 6 months old today. Just like that. 6 months. And yet, not just like that. I can't decide if it's been the longest or shortest 6 months of my life. It's definitely been the most challenging, joy filled, fun, sleep deprived time of my life whichever way you look at it.

He's such a dude.

And now, the latest snaps. (I need to do a proper post. We've been up to stuff, I just haven't been writing about it. Very useless)

You'll note that this high chair is not the high chair I told you we'd gotten for him. Turns out, the other high chair is not so practical for dragging around the house and getting him in and out of. Twas not such a good buy dudes and dudettes. It'll be fabulous for when he's sitting up at the table out of a highchair, but for the moment, mocka came to our rescue. My biggest celebration over this high chair is the fact that it's molded plastic and you can just hose the thing off. No blimming cushions/padding for spit out food and spilled mashed up stuff to sit and grow new civilisations in. Love it.

Thankfully, although he's managed to get up on his elbows, and his legs right underneath himself, he hasn't worked out yet that doing the two together will get him places. Long may that lack of knowledge last.

Cheeky is as cheeky does.

It looks impressive, but I can assure you that almost the entire contents went down his front and all over the high chair tray. Especially when Daddy wasn't paying attention and little grabby hands did what they do best.

Meh. This one's just cute.

I can't think of a thing to say

Consequently, I'll blog another day.

Tee hee.

The only news I have to share isn't really news at all - the little dude is most definitely a bottle hater. Even GrannIE had to admit defeat. Bollocks. He'll drink merrily off a spoon and thinks that's a fabulously clever thing to do, but give him a bottle and no way, no how. Ah well, at least I know that if it's necessary at any point between now and when the little dude weans, there is an option. A messy option, but an option nonetheless.

Cos he's BROOOOOOOKEN

Heh.

I have in my possession 1 x exceptionally broken husband. As in, can't even hardly walk. Back gone ping. Very blimming unhelpful of him (nevermind his pain and suffering). I thought was ok ... ish ... until I went out on Sunday morning, and rang him at about lunch time to say I was on my way home and he was stranded as a stranded thing in bed unable to move. Woops. Probably best not to mention to him that after that phone call I still went on a wee shopping detour (for snuggly trackies for the ever-elongating not so little dude). Ahem.

Anyway, thankfully a Grannie was able to be flown to Auckland at very short notice for an extra set of hands to help with the little dude, who, incidentally, thought that 3am was a marvellous time to wake up on Saturday morning after my post celebrating the sleeping through. I was vowing never to post anything celebratory in relation to him ever again in future because it always seems to come completely undone when I do happy dances about something, but lucky for you lot, he went through last night happy as a clam, so you will continue to hear about his awesomeness when he does something awesome. Like taking a bottle ... I've started Grannie working on it. Watch this space.

We have our next osteo appointment tomorrow and I can't wait - Cuinn is a different kid since last week. As different as a kid gets. I think. Unless he gets even more different after tomorrow and the next one. Either way, life is changing and it's awesome. I just need to find my new feet and routine I think, because today was completely bizarre. Where he'd normally only be able to do an hour awake and then be smashed and grizzly and nightmarish but not wanting to sleep, today he spent 3 hours doing all sorts, including, among other things, sitting in his high chair smashing all manner of things up and down on the kitchen table. Love it! Actually did I get pictures ...?

I may have pictures ...

Hang on ...

Theeeeere we go!


Ooooh and PAFT came today, but I might take a rain-check on telling you about it, other than the vaguely embarrassing moment when our educator told us there's a fire station visit this week, and I got all excited, and she had to gently break it to me that Cuinn was a little bit little yet and maybe next time? Apparently 2 is a more appropriate age for fire station visits. Yeesh. Bollocks to that.

And on that note, I'm smashed into a million tired little pieces and that's about all I can manage tonight (can't even be arsed proofing - apologies for any lack of sense), so I'll leave you with spectacularly fab shot. He spent about 5 minutes playing with his toys with the carrot hanging out his gob. Love it. Love him.

Three

The number of nights in a row that the little dude has slept through.

Good heavens above, 'tis a miracle.

PAFT, bottles, sleeping through the night, and another visit from disease

Bah! The problem with taking an obscenely long time to complete a post is that a week after you start, certain things are no longer relevant.

For example, my bent on decorating the little dude's room with the most awesome wall art available on the market was circumvented by weeks of the little dude getting steadily more unsettled, sleeping less and less and finally bellowing solidly for several days and me therefore making a desperate dash to a cranial osteopath recommended by the little dude and my respective pals Niki and Luca, in the hope that we could do something to make him more comfortable or settle him down again, and in the meantime spent the decorating budget. Doh. Still, I'd rather have a happy baby, even if the monster decal I'd hunted down was the. coolest. ever.

I'd done an entire paragraph celebrating his sleeping through the night, but lamenting that it'd only happened the grand total of once, and was therefore most likely the result of nothing but sheer exhaustion from being decidedly ill (I swear, he's got a little stash of bottled germs under his cot mattress that he snorts whenever he's due for his vaccination jabs so that he can't have them for a couple of weeks. Tricky little ginger) with a spectacularly nasty disease of the ridiculously bad cold variety. Ridiculously bad. Said cold resulted in numerous incidences of projectile power chucking that soaked me to the skin, quite literally. Even changing my undies was required (I know. Too much information. And yet you keep coming back). His room looked like an abandoned haunted house for a few days - every surface was covered in towels, no furniture visible, just a furniture-ghosty look - set out in preparation for masses of flying puke, in whatever direction it should be fired. Poor little dude.

But then he slept through again last night. BOOya! I woke up with a cracker of a headache and my boobs aren't a fan (a fan? fans?), but man was it worth it. Sleep is awesome. I love sleep. Of course right now, I'm less concerned about whether the little dude sleeps through and more whether he'll go to sleep at all. I can hear him having a marvellous time rolling around in his cot with his Ugly Dog ... and I'm wondering to if perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to teach him how to squeal and playing screaming games with him all afternoon. Tis rather piercing through the monitor.

Aaaaand that leaves me with the disaster that has been trying to get him to take a bottle. That paragraph hasn't changed any.

It may never have been a successful thing anyway, but I blame antenatal classes for telling us not to introduce the bottle before 6 week because the kid would get nipple confusion. I guess in a way, they're quite right - he's not at all confused ... Doh. We've tried all sorts and nothing has worked. No-thing. Not a even a hint of working. There was one day where I thought he'd taken 20ml, but what I actually think happened is that I mis-read the bottle. Ergo, thought I'd put 50ml in and I'd put 30 sorta thing. Whatever though, he aint doing it. Aint doing it if we starve him, aint doing it if we give it to him to hold, aint doing it if we slowly introduce the bottle to him empty so he learns to put it in his mouth and be comfortable with it, aint doing it if we clap ourselves stupid and dance around in happy circles if we have even the minutest of success, aint doing it no way no how thank you very much.

I never got around to the PAFT paragraph, so that at least is nice'n'straight forward ... so long as I don't admit that we're having our second monthly PAFT visit on Monday. Woops. Maybe I'll tell ya about it on Monday. After a quick woohoo that there are 7000 babies in Manukau at the moment thereabouts and 400 places in PAFT. Go us for getting in!! PAFT is an acronym for Parents as First Teachers and the basic concept is that from 4 months to 3 years Cuinn will have monthly home visits from an educator who will teach us all sorts in relation to his developmental level, what to expect coming up, what we can do to encourage him, what to look for happening, observe in his development, and how to promote his development and learning. They do various other things such as encourage involvement in Mainly Music (which we'll do once the little dude has settled a bit, is generally more comfy is himself and is in a bit of a routine - otherwise he goes somewhere and basically goes AAAHHHHRRRGGHHHH!! there and then and for the rest of the day which completely negates almost all benefit from whatever it is he's done), and apparently among other things there is an annual visit to an animal farm in the area. Cool stuff. I'll blather more next week.

Right now, I'm going to go and put my feet up, look at my housework, and try to gather myself a bit before Cuinn gets his last lot of vaccinations (for the moment) tomorrow. Vaccination day is not too pretty. The day after vaccination day is just ugly. Ergo, I must celebrate an awesome day today.

Next osteo visit is Tuesday too so watch this space for progress reports.

Until I actually manage to finish the post I've been working on for days

In case you need an indication of scale. Eep!

And a suspiciously cousin-Amelia-erish look if I'm not mistaken (although potentially I may just need to clean my glasses)

What happens when you leave the little dude to sleep.

Investigating the toy bucket. And chewing it. As you do.

Turns out, I wasn't actually needed (!!!) (... although it also turns out I need to vacuum the lounge)