There's the Rat, Krusty, and I am the Monkey, or Snou, so naturally we have been trying to find a nickname for the little Tiger.
I had been calling him "grenouille", which means frog in French, but it sounded a little feminine, so it became "crapaud", or toad. But then as I was saying it while changing him, Krusty asked me why I was calling his son "crapo" and whether it had something to do with what I found in his nappy...
My father then tried to start a trend of calling him "spanky", from the Little Rascals (not to mention the fact that Oscar feeds much better when I am patting his bottom for some reason), but that doesn't seem right either.
For now he'll just have to stay Bambino. Or Bambi?
22 July 2010
20 July 2010
Gone with the wind
Yesterday night we experienced intense parental emotion number three - worry. With full force.
After changing bambino, I picked him up and the noise he made made my heart feel like it was being torn apart by a hundred rabid pitbulls. I had heard the pain cry before (during his vaccinations) but this was in a league of its own. It started with a high pitched wail and then continued with him not being able to breathe from the screaming.
What had happened? Everything had been the same as usual on the changing mat... Then again, perhaps I had seen him bash his leg on the wooden side? Or had I? Was his leg broken? I did a quick check... Was that a bone clicking?!
As I entered deeper and deeper hysterics listening to my son's impression of Aerosmith's Steven Tyler, Krusty proved why he is the man I always want with me in times of trouble. Staying calm and collected while I broke down into tears and somehow managed to bite every single one of my nails in under ten seconds, he did a systematic check of each limb, managing somehow to soothe bambino down in the process.
And then, as Krusty slowly lifted our baby's legs for a final test, Oscar released a slow and steady stream of gas, sighed with relief, and proceeded to coo and gurgle for the next 20 minutes.
How am I ever going to survive it if bambino has a real problem?!
After changing bambino, I picked him up and the noise he made made my heart feel like it was being torn apart by a hundred rabid pitbulls. I had heard the pain cry before (during his vaccinations) but this was in a league of its own. It started with a high pitched wail and then continued with him not being able to breathe from the screaming.
What had happened? Everything had been the same as usual on the changing mat... Then again, perhaps I had seen him bash his leg on the wooden side? Or had I? Was his leg broken? I did a quick check... Was that a bone clicking?!
As I entered deeper and deeper hysterics listening to my son's impression of Aerosmith's Steven Tyler, Krusty proved why he is the man I always want with me in times of trouble. Staying calm and collected while I broke down into tears and somehow managed to bite every single one of my nails in under ten seconds, he did a systematic check of each limb, managing somehow to soothe bambino down in the process.
And then, as Krusty slowly lifted our baby's legs for a final test, Oscar released a slow and steady stream of gas, sighed with relief, and proceeded to coo and gurgle for the next 20 minutes.
How am I ever going to survive it if bambino has a real problem?!
16 July 2010
15 July 2010
Compliments of the Krusty
Yesterday Krusty pointed someone out in front of us in the street and said "you have a very similar build to that woman."
"That woman" then turned around - "she" was, in fact, a man...
"That woman" then turned around - "she" was, in fact, a man...
14 July 2010
I'm so worried about...
Coming in at a very close second to the overwhelming joy that parenthood brings is the feeling of perpetual guilt that has assailed me for the last two months. Am I doing this right? Could I be doing this better? Should I be stimulating him more? Should I be stimulating him less? The list goes on.
And the most recent source of self-inflicted doubt - what did I do to my son that resulted in the big blue ball on his, well, his balls?!
But apparently I have nothing to feel guilty about. Oscar has simply developed a hernia in his groin, and apparently this is very common (why did no-one ever tell me about it then?!).
Once we noticed it and determined that poking it didn't seem to have any effect on bambino's happiness (in fact he spent the afternoon mostly smiling and laughing), Krusty researched it on the internet for good measure. Of course it goes without saying that you should NEVER research medical conditions on the internet, unless you want to go from "Oh I am sure that can wait until our scheduled Dr's appointment tomorrow morning" to "Oh my god we have to rush him to the emergency room immediately on a Sunday night". Those forums are scary places...
Anyway I'm glad we went in, because apart from the wait between a convict in chains and a man who I am sure was already dead, we got some peace of mind from the doctor, who explained that the hernia was "reducable", which means that it could disappear anytime before his second birthday.
Basically, when babies are born the muscles in their abdomen are not yet closed up, and so the intestine can sometimes poke through and make an appearance in the groin area. As long as it doesn't become twisted, or "strangulated", it is no source of concern.
Of course I am still concerned.
But on the plus side, Krusty was worried about the fact that our baby was the least well endowed among all the babies in our group of friends - now, with three balls, at least he has the advantage on the scrotum front!
And the most recent source of self-inflicted doubt - what did I do to my son that resulted in the big blue ball on his, well, his balls?!
But apparently I have nothing to feel guilty about. Oscar has simply developed a hernia in his groin, and apparently this is very common (why did no-one ever tell me about it then?!).
Once we noticed it and determined that poking it didn't seem to have any effect on bambino's happiness (in fact he spent the afternoon mostly smiling and laughing), Krusty researched it on the internet for good measure. Of course it goes without saying that you should NEVER research medical conditions on the internet, unless you want to go from "Oh I am sure that can wait until our scheduled Dr's appointment tomorrow morning" to "Oh my god we have to rush him to the emergency room immediately on a Sunday night". Those forums are scary places...
Anyway I'm glad we went in, because apart from the wait between a convict in chains and a man who I am sure was already dead, we got some peace of mind from the doctor, who explained that the hernia was "reducable", which means that it could disappear anytime before his second birthday.
Basically, when babies are born the muscles in their abdomen are not yet closed up, and so the intestine can sometimes poke through and make an appearance in the groin area. As long as it doesn't become twisted, or "strangulated", it is no source of concern.
Of course I am still concerned.
But on the plus side, Krusty was worried about the fact that our baby was the least well endowed among all the babies in our group of friends - now, with three balls, at least he has the advantage on the scrotum front!
10 July 2010
08 July 2010
Mr Sandman
Oscar laughed for the first time a few days ago, and he has done it again several times since. Unfortunately each time it has been in his sleep, so I have no idea what he thinks is so funny. And after reading dozens of websites with varying degrees of professional medical opinion, it seems I can't even be sure that he is dreaming of anything at all.
Most doctors agree that because babies go through phases of REM sleep, then they must in consequence dream. They also agree that these dreams must be a silent succession of images that reflect their experiences in life so far.
I can only conclude, then, that Oscar finds my breasts, his bear or his bedroom hilarious. Or perhaps it's his father's extremely expressive eyebrows that crack him up...
Most doctors agree that because babies go through phases of REM sleep, then they must in consequence dream. They also agree that these dreams must be a silent succession of images that reflect their experiences in life so far.
I can only conclude, then, that Oscar finds my breasts, his bear or his bedroom hilarious. Or perhaps it's his father's extremely expressive eyebrows that crack him up...
07 July 2010
05 July 2010
Call of the wild
OK, so not exactly the wild (unless wild means extremely organised and manicured) but I have finally found it– the baby-friendly place where no-one insists you buy a drink, where you can enjoy the water and the sunset and the grass without someone telling you that you are not allowed to sit down and where, at least until now, there are no mosquitoes...! It's called the Sun Yat Sen Memorial Park, and it happens to be located at the foot of our building.
We've been watching this park being built for what seems like years now, and as I watched the lawn being rolled out and carefully watered, never did I imagine that we would actually be able to walk and sit on it.
Hong Kong - at least in my experience - has a habit of keeping people off the grass, when there is actually grass to be kept off. Whether it's an effort to keep the homeless away, a discriminatory action against the Filipina maids who like to hang out together on Sundays, or just a way to keep Hong Kong clean (a likely story), it's just very difficult to find a place that isn't a bar where you can just sit down and enjoy being outdoors.
But this park has it all - a big lawn, as mentioned, a playground for when bambino grows up a bit, and soon there will be a swimming pool, too. There is also "Four Desperados Corner" (not sure what that is), a "Reflection Pool" (actually just a fountain) and... a breastfeeding room! Not that I checked it out - despite my years of being prude as a teenager, nowadays nothing can stop me from whipping out the mobile milk fridges so that I can feed my son without missing a minute of the action. I don't want to sit in a tiny room on a stool for half an hour while everyone else enjoys life without me!
Now I just have to wait for the stifling Hong Kong summer to fade away, and then the park will be our hq until the winter...
We've been watching this park being built for what seems like years now, and as I watched the lawn being rolled out and carefully watered, never did I imagine that we would actually be able to walk and sit on it.
Hong Kong - at least in my experience - has a habit of keeping people off the grass, when there is actually grass to be kept off. Whether it's an effort to keep the homeless away, a discriminatory action against the Filipina maids who like to hang out together on Sundays, or just a way to keep Hong Kong clean (a likely story), it's just very difficult to find a place that isn't a bar where you can just sit down and enjoy being outdoors.
But this park has it all - a big lawn, as mentioned, a playground for when bambino grows up a bit, and soon there will be a swimming pool, too. There is also "Four Desperados Corner" (not sure what that is), a "Reflection Pool" (actually just a fountain) and... a breastfeeding room! Not that I checked it out - despite my years of being prude as a teenager, nowadays nothing can stop me from whipping out the mobile milk fridges so that I can feed my son without missing a minute of the action. I don't want to sit in a tiny room on a stool for half an hour while everyone else enjoys life without me!
Now I just have to wait for the stifling Hong Kong summer to fade away, and then the park will be our hq until the winter...
01 July 2010
Scorchio
Continuing with my categorisation of unfriendly baby places, the latest culprit on the list is: the ENTIRE city of HONG KONG (at least in the summer).
The last two weeks (more or less) have seen me stay at home because of the torrential monsoon rain, and the last two days have been scorchio. Of course I couldn't resist leaving the flat at the first glimpse of blue skies, but the unbearable heat – coupled with Hong Kong's uneven, steep streets and endless staircases that make life with a pushchair impossible – saw me crumple into a pile of sweaty milk-stained clothes on Wednesday, leaving me just a shell of my normally composed and rock solid self.
In fact I got so desperate and panicky (and guilty that my child was drenched in sweat) that I did the unthinkable and... called Krusty to come and rescue me. Ever the knight in dull grey suit, he swiftly arrived in his red Toyota chariot to save me from myself, and soon I was under the air-conditioning, swearing that I'd never set foot outside again.
Of course today we couldn't resist repeating the whole affair, taking advantage of the handover holiday to visit Hong Kong park's Aviary, an entertaining landmark that would have been on the baby-friendly list had the sun piercing through the giant netting not created a burn hazard at every turn for poor bambino.
And so my quest for the perfect baby location in Hong Kong continues. And I don't mean one of those playgroups where everything is bright plastics and crinkly cubes. I want both of us to be able to enjoy this city together...
The last two weeks (more or less) have seen me stay at home because of the torrential monsoon rain, and the last two days have been scorchio. Of course I couldn't resist leaving the flat at the first glimpse of blue skies, but the unbearable heat – coupled with Hong Kong's uneven, steep streets and endless staircases that make life with a pushchair impossible – saw me crumple into a pile of sweaty milk-stained clothes on Wednesday, leaving me just a shell of my normally composed and rock solid self.
In fact I got so desperate and panicky (and guilty that my child was drenched in sweat) that I did the unthinkable and... called Krusty to come and rescue me. Ever the knight in dull grey suit, he swiftly arrived in his red Toyota chariot to save me from myself, and soon I was under the air-conditioning, swearing that I'd never set foot outside again.
Of course today we couldn't resist repeating the whole affair, taking advantage of the handover holiday to visit Hong Kong park's Aviary, an entertaining landmark that would have been on the baby-friendly list had the sun piercing through the giant netting not created a burn hazard at every turn for poor bambino.
And so my quest for the perfect baby location in Hong Kong continues. And I don't mean one of those playgroups where everything is bright plastics and crinkly cubes. I want both of us to be able to enjoy this city together...
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