A whole new person at ten months

Overnight Bobo has started exhibiting a ‘personality’.

It all began with some solid night-time screaming about a month ago at nine months. D is the one who wakes up whenever Bobo wakes up at night, me having thrown in the towel when I night weaned him. But this series was keeping us both up. After five sleepless nights of picking him up and walking around in the dark while urging him to pipe it down and ruling out all other possible causes (too much a/c, too little a/c, gassiness, thirst, hunger, ear pain), we were tired. I did a quick internet search and found out that he was undergoing ‘separation anxiety’.

Apparently, when babies realize that they are their own person and not an attachment of their mama, they freak out (understandably).

Luckily before I could fall into pieces from the lack of sleep, Bobo settled down.

Around the same time, he also took his first steps and his vocabulary improved from a mere ‘tha-tha’ to include other sounds.

It is now a month later. By the looks of it, Bobo is past the separation anxiety phase and seems to be rather enjoying the fact that he is his own little person.

How does this show?

Bobo has started moving all around the house with his cute duck-walk interspersed with rapid crawling when he needs to be in some place real fast (like before Mommy can shut her wardrobe door or Grandma can close the kitchen door or Daddy can disappear into the bathroom). He would like everyone to keep him posted on what they are up to, thank you very much.

Bobo likes to touch everything at his height to see which one elicits a ‘no’ from the adults. He has learnt that going near the pedestal fan is a big no-no and has decided to avoid it. He knows that going near the door-stopper is a big no-no but thinks anyone saying ‘no’ is just a big wuss. Considering we use the same tone of voice for both, I don’t know how he has decided one diktat is to be followed and the other to be ignored.

He has started playing peek-a-boo with great keenness. He likes to ‘hide’ behind curtains. i.e. ignoring the fact that his feet and chubby legs and sometimes his tummy and chest are still sticking out. He can’t see us, so naturally we can’t see him. Simple, isn’t it?

This thought clearly fascinates him endlessly. We spend a long time having Bobo sitting behind the curtains, Mummy going ‘bobo, bobo where are you?’ and then Bobo delightedly throwing open the curtains to laugh at Mummy.

Look ma, I am my own person.

A variation is when he goes around the tall, rectangular clothes stand with Mummy chasing him. He has learnt that he can evaluate through the railings and the drying clothes when Mummy’s huge form will come towards him and when he has to turn a corner. I was taken aback when I turned a corner and saw he had already darted out of view.

Golly, he certainly is no longer an attachment of me.

Bobo has taken a huge interest in playing and in playing with other kids.

Going outdoors, even if it means Mummy is not accompanying him?

You bet, yes.

Going on shopping trips just to spend time with Mummy?

No way in hell.

Eating idli four days in a row?

Ugh

Eating blueberries four meals in a row?

Yummy yummy!

His vocabulary is not yet quite there but with the sounds he can make when he is Really Annoyed or Really Angry, he can quite effectively convey that he is surprised we did not go to parenting school.

So we have a baby who seems to be developing a personality, complete with opinions.

Life is definitely getting more interesting!

And one year flies by

And just like that a year has whizzed by. Things that used to amuse me, startle me, puzzle me and get me grinning like a kid have all been taken in my stride. 

The other day, my secretary asked me something and I casually said ‘No, la’

That is how Singaporean I am becoming. I can even say sentences like ‘canna do Saturday? 

Can do next week?’

I have become a pro at taking the MRT, displaying that subtle aggression needed in jumping into the train car without actually touching or pushing anyone. I used to scornfully glare from behind my book at the commuters whose eyes used to be glued to their IPhones. The other day I got into the metro with my eyes glued to my IPhone and a man next to me squeezed his Naom Chomsky to make some space for me.

Newbie.

Though I did turn just a wee bit red at having crossed over to the other side.

I have lunch at the hawker’s centre. I love the wide variety of food at affordable prices. I still haven’t gotten around to carrying little packets of tissues to reserve a place for myself at the crowded tables at the hawkers’ centres. It just seems so school girly.

I have realised that school girly is quite in. A lot of the admin staff does school girly when it comes to office wear. Even if they are fifty years old and the varicose veins are popping out.

Equally there are the elegant women gliding about in their Jimmy Choos and lugging their Prada bags. I honestly had never seen anyone wear Jimmy Choo to office in real life before. It is rather cool and makes me feel like I am living in a Hollywood movie.But it is still very much a shorts city.

I have started living in shorts. It is an amazing comfortable piece of clothing. Having lived in humid cities all my life, I can’t believe I discovered it so late in life (But then try wearing shorts in Chennai. Ha ha. It is bad enough you attract eyeballs with mere dresses)

Shorts means not taking the easy way out when it comes to hairy legs. A cheap Indian parlour has been located to do the needful. I have exchanged notes with other expat friends and found that apparently every country has a cheap Indian parlour.

I have not bought a designer bag. Yet. Given my propensity to leave my handbag lying on the floor, it seems like a terrible waste of money. Though I may succumb.

Like the IPhone instead of a book

I have discovered the National Library building and been happily borrowing books. They are a damn sight better than the lending libraries I had to depend on in Mumbai, which primarily stored Mills and Boons (ugh)

I have also fallen in love with the sports facilities in my Condo and in the community centre nearby. What joy is it to get some exercise while playing a game of badminton or by swimming. Infact I have started exercising a bit more given the easy access to facilities. Which compensates a wee bit for all the food I gorge at the hawker centres.

Most of all though, I love the nursing rooms in some of the malls. I considered shacking up in the one in Takshmimaya. It was just so much better than sitting in my armchair at home with Bobo.

I am still not completely enamoured by the weather. I am out and out a coastal-city-with-humid-weather girl. But even I find the daily downpour a bit bothersome. The one week when there was no sign of rain, my colleague explained that it was because it was summer.

Huh.

Long ago when I had visited the city for the first time, I never thought I would live here. The newspapers seemed insipid, the city is a bit on the tiny side, there is no really architectural or other wonder to speak of.

Yet, I have realised that as long as the nuts and bolts are ok, then you just settle into a city. In this phase of life, with my time tightly squeezed between work and motherhood, I am happy with what’s on offer.

So far, so good. 

Travelling with a Baby - Part 3

The return trip had been booked for Saturday night to give us a day to recover on Sunday. This was just as well since the holiday had turned out to be so tiring that I was rather looking forward to my ten-hour days at work and the once-a-night wakeup routine. It seemed more relaxing!  

On the way back, we decided to play it safe. Bobo slept off at his usual time as per routine. Then with the sound levels of a bunch of robbers stealing into a house in the middle of the night, we left for the airport and successfully reached the gate. Unfortunately a last minute redirection to a new gate, accessible by only one elevator meant a long wait, jostling unruly crowds and finally an awake Bobo.

Our struggles with Bobo’s sleep may make it seem like we are rank amateurs and don’t have a clue about Bobo’s routine or how to put him to sleep.

This is partly true. We don’t spend quite enough time during the daytime to be comfortable with putting him to sleep.

Besides, Bobo’s routine is sort of stable but not entirely so. And when you are travelling across time zones, it gets messed up even more. Bobo also goes to sleep following a routine that looks like we are trying to violently kill him off. It involves covering him with a thin muslin blanket and producing our own ‘white noise’ by saying ‘Ooooo’ loudly and continuously as he registers his protest at being forced to sleep by wailing loudly. This is clearly not an action that can be reproduced in public. So we were forced to use untested methods throughout the trip with mixed success.

This time though, D had had enough. Once inside security, he went right ahead doing our conventional ‘yelling like a banshee’ method. I sat and squirmed a few seats away, acutely conscious. Except it turned out no one batted an eyelid and could not care less.

Bobo fell asleep.

Once in the plane, we took no chances with the bassinet. Instead I held him and both of us slept quite ok.

When we landed, it was bright and early and morning.

We took a cab home where I deposited Bobo into the eager hands of my Helper and then finally slept like a baby.

Travelling with a Baby - Part 2

D was wearing a baby carrier, had a backpack on his back, a diaper bag slung around his shoulders and two groaning suitcases in each hand. He was taking the steps two at a time. I was right behind, running with a puzzled Bobo in my hips and my handbag swinging behind me. We stopped on top of the stairs and took a quick look around the railway station and spotted Platform 3. Then it was back to running.  We reached Platform 3 and jogged alongside the sedately parked train, dodging the crowd scattered along the train.

I am never ever late for trains or flights.

So, how did we get here?

It all began when we had to go to Andhra Pradesh for a wedding and it involved a car and train trip while going and a train journey on the way back.

Bobo did the first leg in the car quite well, alternatively sleeping and alternatively looking out. We did our scheduled stop at D’s uncle’s house and set off to the station as planned. Except as we left, D’s uncle looked worried and told us that the train would leave earlier than what we had assumed.

Thus all the huffing and puffing. This turned out to be useless exertion since the train left at exactly the time we had thought it.

Once we had recovered our breath and shoved away our luggage into various nooks and crannies, we decided we needed plenty of sustenance to get over this traumatic experience (and ignored the fact that had we been fitter, we would have not cut such sorry figures). So began the gastronomic journey into Indian Railway’s culinary offerings, starting with hot and peppery tomato soup.

Bobo, meanwhile began to attract attention.

Indians love kids. Everyone wanted to make faces at Bobo and play with him. (I also think that Bobo is really cute with his silky hair and big eyes. But that is probably just smitten-mom-speak).  In return, Bobo put up quite a show, shooting dazzling smiles at perfect strangers. Before I knew it, one of our co-passengers grabbed him and started showing him a movie on her giant phone. I am ok with strangers making faces at Bobo but not really holding him. Besides, I could not think of a polite way of telling her that we thought he was too young to be watching TV, let alone the crap she was showing him. Finally I took him away and informed her that it was time for his dinner.

It was indeed and he ate his packed food. The station rolled in a little later and we had done quite ok. Hopefully Bobo shares my love for train journeys in India.

For the return leg, we reached the station 45 minutes ahead of schedule to take into account both the actual timing and the guestimates provided by various relatives.

However, there is such a thing as reaching too early with a baby who can’t walk yet. D walked around with Bobo. Then I walked around, holding Bobo in my baby carrier.

If I had been moonwalking, I could not have attracted more unabashed, open-mouthed attention. Everyone in the station paused to watch the baby carrier. And to think, I had specially remembered to pack proper Indian clothes to make sure I did not attract any attention.

Finally the train came, our coach stopped three coaches away from where it was supposed to stop and we repeated the running episode all over again.

We reached our seats and the first thing I spotted was a cockroach. One of things I wanted to do with this trip was to give Bobo a chance to build immunity and get used to Indian conditions. We were clearly getting more than we had bargained for.

I immediately cleared up all the food junk left behind by co-passengers and then cleaned the entire area with wet wipes. Then we spread out a blanket on the seat for Bobo and let him play and watched in resignation as he lovingly licked the blue chrome seat covers.

Yup, we were going to be building lots of immunity…