They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had,
And add some extra, just for you.
Philip Larkin, This be the verse
It’s been a whole month since Elijah (Eli – said in broad Yorkshire accent) Lewis Sutcliffe entered the world.
In that time, I’ve learned that:
- there is no correlation between food consumed, and sleep achieved;
- there is no correlation between food consumed (either by volume or time) and the contents of a nappy;
- nappies need to be put on securely; and
- you should never stand in the line of fire when changing a nappy.
Also, if I were able to bottle sleep and sell it to new parents, that Gates fellah might start tapping me up for a few quid.
It has been a pretty awesome month. Eli was three weeks early, and weighed in at a respectable 6lb 6oz. I think being early helped us as after a few tricky nights he settled into sleeping for four hours at a time. Bliss!
Unfortunately, he now seems to have realised he’s a baby and being a bit less kind to his parents at night and taking longer to settle. (Please use this paragraph as my excuse for the rambling nonsense I’m writing.)
I’m sure it’ll sort itself out eventually, but I’m not rushing to find weird strategies to help as at the end of the day, he’s a baby and that’s kinda what they do isn’t it? I can’t remember what I was like, but I’m sure I was similar, though probably a bit better.
Now I’m back at work a bit more (using up leave to ease back gradually) it’s cool to get home and give him his feed and ask him about his day. He’s not got much to say yet, but I can tell he’s had fun.
I can’t wait til he’s a bit older and I can play with him properly (at last, a legitimate excuse to go toy shopping!!!), but I’m very aware I need to enjoy this bit too.
I have to admit, it is a bit of a mindfuck sometimes. When I do the last feed of the day I just sit there watching him eat and wonder how the hell this little person can be relying on me to keep him alive.
I try not to dwell on it too much though as then you head into “what if I mess them up?” territory, which is both futile and missing the point – we’re all messed up in some way, but it’s how we react to it that makes us who we are.
Hopefully my messing up of him will help him become something cool like an astronaut or mountain bike world champion, but I suppose that if he ends up working in a jet pack factory, I’ll be cool with that too.
As long as I get to use his staff discount.