Friday, December 04, 2009

Baby Gaga

Blake is a big fan of Baby Einstein videos. He worked his way towards the more advanced ones for older kids and is already bored with some of them. He gets to watch one or two a day after a meal. It is a delight to hear him giggle from downstairs or see him get excited over a musical segment.

Since he started walking he'd often walk into my room and show interest in what I'm watching on my computer. He instantly fell in love with the end credits music video from  the game Plants Vs Zombies.  Since the song is sang by a Sunflower, that was Blake's first word, only it came out sounding more like "safa". I also made him a seven minutes video based on videos of him that I filmed during his first year set to Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah. He watches one of these two every night just before going to bed, sitting on my lap in front of my Mac.

A couple of weeks ago two new clips entered his list: Poker Face and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. He would often come to me while I'm doing something entirely different on the computer and slap my knees. He knows that I know exactly what he means: put me on your knees and give me some Gaga! Can't blame him, I think Bad Romance is a great song with a fantastic music video.

 Walk walk, fashion baby. Work it, move that bitch ka-razy!

The other day he was playing in daddy's study. I opened the TV on a music channel showing the top twenty singles knowing that Bad Romance should be there somewhere. As expected he pretty much ignored the TV until Bad Romance started playing. He immediately dropped everything and walked to the screen in fascination and excitement. He never saw that on a big screen. I tried putting him on my knees, but he wriggled away and walked closer to the screen. As soon as the song ended he lost all interest and resumed playing with his toys on the coffee table. That Lady Gaga knows what she's doing, getting them while they're young.

He's still not really talking, but I won't be surprised if he'd start saying Gaga a lot soon. Too bad he's too young to go see Lady Gaga at the O2 Arena in February next year!


Thursday, December 03, 2009

Night of the Living Dead Papa

As I mentioned before (as the millions of followers of this blog clearly remember after memorizing every instant cult classic quotable post) Blake is an easy Baby. He sleeps through the night from two months and the bad nights are very rare and often results in a disturbance of no more than an hour or two. So I shouldn't really whine and complain about it, but then again if I didn't what am I going to write about?

We had a bad night on Tuesday night this week. Since I teach on Tuesdays and Wednesdays it means early mornings and long days with no nap opportunities, so I value my six hours of sleep those nights.

So just as my head hit the pillow the cries started. Sometimes Blake cries in his sleep or wakes up for a second unhappy after banging his head as a result of performing somersaults in his sleep. So I waited for a few long seconds, knowing better than to run into his bedroom and pick him up. As expected (otherwise, that would be a really short and dull anecdote, while instead it's a long and dull one) the cries didn't stop. Oh, another one of those nights.

I went to Blake's bed and picked him up in the dark. Immediately the cries stopped. I took him to his daddy's study and we sat down on the sofa. He gazed up at me in the dark as I sang to him Wheels on the Bus and I'm the Music Man with my mesmerizing, beautiful and haunting voice (I'm thinking of starting a new career as a pop singer with the stage name Lady Papa). Actually I can barely hold on to the right note with a lot of considerable effort, but looking at Blake's response to my singing you'd think I was Edith Piaf. If I want Blake to come I can call his name until I am blue in the face, but if I sing he'd beeline towards me from the other side of the house. So as I was going through these two songs for the millionth time he just lay there and smiled sweetly having the time of his life.

Usually when Blake wakes up in the middle of the night, giving him the benefit of the doubt, I used to assume that he was in actual pain from teething, gas or something else he couldn't communicate to me. That would usually result in giving him Calpol and sitting him in the kitchen in front of the laptop to watch Baby Einstein while waiting for the medicine to kick in. Since that worked like a charm it was easy to assume that the medicine took the pain away, but it was more likely that it just knocked him out as a side effect, giving him just the right nudge needed to go back to sleep. The thing was, he only cried in his bed. As soon as I picked him up or took him to our bed, he'd quiet down. Obviously he wasn't in real pain.

It was then very clear that he simply woke up in the middle of the night wide awake and bored to death. He didn't like lying alone in the dark cooped up in his cot so he'd scream and scream knowing that he will be eventually rescued. I took him back to his bed and decided to let him cry it out. I shouldn't help him develop bad habits. There was still some light in his room from the night light and he had a few toys in his bed. It's not as if I buried him alive in a coffin - though you might think that hearing his screams. I waited until his screams subsided and he fell asleep - only to be woken up several times each time his screams started again. Like many other parents I decided to postpone the development of my child's habits to a different unspecified time and took him into our bed.

I stuck him in the middle between Miron and me. He lay there happily for a few seconds, enjoying his triumph. I enjoyed the lack of screaming, so I thought it was a fair deal all around and dozed off into sweet bliss - only to be woken up with a swift kick to the head. Again and again. At some point Miron tried to grab Blake and hold him close which was party done out of sheer affection and partly as a sweet attempt to protect me from the little ninja. It was no good. For the next fifty minutes I kept falling asleep only to be woken up by kicks, slaps and bumps as Blake was having the time of his life. This must be against the Geneva convention: Letting an exhausted prisoner fall asleep only to wake him up abruptly again and again is a despicable form of torture. Eventually I had enough and decided to take Blake back to his bed as suddenly listening to his screams seemed like a great idea.

I carried him to bed and placed him on the mattress and... Nothing. He silently rolled onto his side. I rushed to bed and fell asleep before anything else happened. Four hours were still better than none. Blake woke up extra early the following morning, costing me additional fifteen minutes on the other end  of the night, but who's counting?

Seasoned parents probably expect a twist that takes this to the next level. What, that's it? That's what I'm whining about? Well, yes. Being woken up from deep sleep physically was an immensely unpleasant experience. I guess being so lucky with Blake means that when those bad nights happen they have a more significant effect since I'm no longer used to them.

So I'm not really sure if I'm seeking sympathy or showing off...


Super Awesomeness!!!

I just wrote a long blog post for about thirty minutes and then comes lovely little Dexter with a dirty toy and dropped it on the keyboard just after I marked all the text in order to format it. All the text disappeared and before I could do anything Blogger's helpful feature kicked in: Auto-save! Yay! It's all gone.

All gone!!!

Little bugger is very lucky that he's so cute and beautiful..!