Finn

It looks like a certain someone has developed a severe case of cabin fever. I suspected this when my homebound little man started putting on his shoes and pressing his face against the gate, yelling “GO! GO!! GO!!!” at various points throughout the day.

I think he realised the yelling wasn’t working very well so he figured out a way to get himself some sun while being stuck at home. There’s this little space by the door where the sunlight comes in just right – he found a sweet spot, made himself all comfy and proceeded to work on a tan for his chubby calves.

I took a photo, went off to fix a drink and when I came back to check on him a few minutes later, he was still at it, looking rather pleased with his progress.

Nothing quite like a baby with gorgeously tanned calves.

WIth all the excitement over the new baby around here recently, it feels like this little dreamboat baby has taken one of those super speed growing pills and grown up a whole lot without us noticing.

Look who’s turning 18 months in a week and more importantly, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

He’s like this confident little kid who does puzzles(?!!), sings at the top of his lungs and holds his own while playing with his big brother and sister. He used to tag behind them like a little forgotten afterthought but now, now he’s all in…dude is an afterthought no more.

This one time, he started doing a crazy handstand like it was the funniest thing and before long, I had a whole circus in my living room.

I look at him and I couldn’t ask for a more perfect third baby. He hardly fusses and he’s so unassuming that he’s the ultimate low-maintenance baby.

Like he just finds his place and fits right in.

Sometimes he comes to me with his favourite book while I’m halfway through some work and I stall for time with a hug and a kiss to the top of his head and he’ll turn right around to find someone else to entertain him.

Or he sees his siblings laughing over a private joke and he’ll throw his head back, palm his face and guffaw like he’s totally in on it.

Have I already said that I love this kid? I do. I love him so much I can hardly stand it.

Happy almost one and a half, my sunshine boy.

It’s the prerogative of every parent to think that their kid is a rockstar, which is something I do quite a bit even though the husband has pointed out repeatedly that my mommy-coloured glasses is in fact, interfering with my vision.

But, whatever.

Seriously, look at this little champ show off some fancy footwork. He haven’t even mastered walking steadily without falling all over the place but little dude seems to know his way around a ball.

The husband is so chuffed that he’s working it with his teensy weensy feet instead of picking up the ball with his hands and running away with it like Truett & Kirsten used to.

PS. Notice how I’ve refrained from talking about the state of soccer this season because watching the premier league as a Man Utd fan has been causing me actual physical pain.

PPS. Why I persist in watching week after week is beyond me.

Ever since baby Finn’s introduction to bubbles, he’s been way into bubbles. Like way, way deep into bubble mania. “BUBBAA”, he’ll point to the bubble blower and yell.

“We can’t have bubbles everyday, sweetheart,” I’ll try to explain and he looks at me with indignation like “WHY NOT, MOMMA? WHY NO BUBBLES?” because in his world, bubbles are fun and there should be bubbles every single day.

Finally, he gave up and decided to improvise by making his own bubbles instead. With his mouth. Which would be so gross if it wasn’t so cute and enterprising. He makes some pretty huge bubbles for such a tiny baby and then he thinks it’s the most hilarious thing in the world. Ok, it is pretty darn hilarious.

Video quality isn’t sharp and that is some crazy hair going on but here, here’s a peek.

We finally did it. I hereby declare that it’s officially the end of The Hair.

Everyone meet His Royal Hairness version 2.0.

There isn’t a long explanation to this. We were out yesterday and I turned to the husband and said “I think it’s time.” and he was all “time for what?”

“Time for THE HAIRCUT,” I said.

His response was an enthusiastic YES WE SHOULD.

And then baby Finn cheered a little.

It’s like I have a new baby now. I really miss the old hair but this new look is growing on me.

70% rockstar, 30% beng. I think like it.

Felt like we got an extra weekend yesterday and it couldn’t have come at a better time. It arrived in style, bringing a morning thunderstorm along with it.

Mmm…morning thunderstorms and midweek holidays, they’re a perfect pair if ever I’ve seen one.

Baby Finn was up at 6 for his milk and there’s usually a 50-50 chance that he’ll drink up and decide it’s time to play. I’m trying to rehabilitate him because let’s be clear – there’s a time to play and 6 in the morning is not it. This morning, he sat up (bad sign!), listened to the sounds of the thunderstorm raging outside the window (good sign?), started clapping?? (super bad sign), then just as suddenly flopped down onto the bed beside me (phew, great sign!!).

This would normally have been my cue to go back to sleep but it felt so perfect lying there listening to the long, deep, contented breaths of my baby next to me. I must have listened for over an hour, playing with his hair, running my fingers along his cheeks, whispering “mommy loves you” and draping my arm across his chest to pat him ever so lightly.

Moments like these were so rare because he’s the definition of restless. When he’s awake, I have to do my snuggling in 15-second instalments. I only get to clock in extended snuggling hours when he’s out cold and even then, his subconscious gets annoyed when I kiss him too many times.

So finally, after I got my fix, I slowly pulled out my hand to get out of bed but as I did, he grabbed hold of it and made me put it back across his chest to resume the patting. He was awake and wanted me to do my overly affectionate mom thing.

It was like being bestowed a great honour by a restless baby.

Best feeling ever. 

PS. In unrelated news, we also went to the playground for a little bit after the rain cleared up later in the day.

Baby Finn gave us all a bit of a scare over the weekend. It all started with a mild case of the flu so I handled it like I usually do – with a tried and tested formula of fluids, rest and extra doses of tender loving care. Good ol’ TLC, that always works.

Then late Friday evening, he woke up for his night feed and as I picked him up from the cot, I saw a spot of blood coming out from his tiny baby nose. It was totally a slow-mo, cue ominous score in the background kind of moment. Ever so slowly, the trail of blood made its way down towards his tiny baby lips. Having never seen any of my babies bleed from the nose, I did the only thing I could think of, which was to absolutely freak the hell out. I held him and ran out to the husband like BLOOD!! NOSE!!! HELPPP!!! OMGOMGCALLTHEAMBULANCE!!!

A fair bit of panic and half a blood-soaked piece of tissue later, we managed to get the bleeding under control. Baby Finn, though, was strangely calm and he fell right back asleep after his feed.

Saturday morning, we brought him to the nearby clinic for a consult. The doctor seemed unperturbed by the whole nosebleed episode. “It’s due to the thinning of the blood vessels, it happens to some babies, nothing to worry about,” he said. He gave Finn some antibiotics, taught us how to stop the nosebleeds and sent us on our way.

The nosebleeds continued intermittently throughout the rest of Saturday and by then, we were getting quite good at the nose pinching technique.

At 4am on Sunday, baby Finn woke up crying and when I picked him out, I almost fainted because there’s nothing quite like waking up at 4am to what was basically a homicidal crime scene. There was a pool of blood (like the size of a dinner plate) on the sheets and Finn’s face was covered in blood. Like blood everywhere, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his lips, his nose and even his hair. My poor baby looked like he had just spent 15 rounds in the ring getting face-punched by Sugar Ray Robinson.

We brought him in to KK Hospital, where the doctor identified it to be a case of bronchiolitis + a somewhat sensitive nose. Finn was such a little gentleman the entire time, waving at doctors and smiling as they did all their tests. He even sat for his x-ray on the big scary machine like a champ. Right up to the point where he had to be on the nebulizer.

Sigh, nebulizer time – the most traumatic experience for any parent. We had to hold him down in a stranglehold for all of 300 seconds while he pleaded and pleaded and pleaded for us to stop with his tear-filled eyes. *heartbreak*

Thankfully, that seems to be the last of it and he’s back home recovering nicely. There’ll be extra huggles and snuggles these couple of days, doctor’s orders.