Babyhood

Our Christmas Eve spent with P.’s parents wasn’t an unqualified success, with poor Kevin feeling so grumpy and off-colour, but thank goodness it didn’t actually develop into an illness, and by the second day of our holiday he was fine again and his appetite was back to normal. Well I shouldn’t really say normal, because on holiday he ate even more than usual and he ate things off our plates that he won’t eat at home, i.e. mushrooms, quiche and slices of banana. And he’s now getting a lot of fun out of his Christmas presents and the “New Baby in the Family” book you sent is his absolute favourite at the moment. He studies the pictures with great concentration, even during meals, and the bath-time page is the one he turns to most often. The blue plastic aprons Mum made are so useful, especially as they protect the sleeves of his sweaters. He looks like a surgeon in them, as they go right down to his ankles! And funnily enough, he enjoys wearing them (perhaps because of the rustling sound), unlike the rigid plastic catchment bib I bought, which he refuses to wear.

P.’s mother prepared us a splendid feast as usual, with foie gras, venison (wild doe in fact) with purée of potatoes and celeriac, salad and a chocolate and chestnut charlotte to finish, instead of the traditional chocolate log. The venison was okay, but I felt like I was eating Bambi’s mother. I think I prefer poultry. Anyway, we drove home with stomachs groaning and I really had overdone it. This new baby is taking up so much room already that I’m already experiencing the same kind of indigestion I had towards the end of my first pregnancy, so I’m going to have to take it easy and eat very light meals, especially in the evenings. So Christmas Day was spent packing for our holiday. In contrast to last year we didn’t have to take folding cot, bath, high chair and big pram for Kevin, but a whole wagonload of his favourite toys filled up the Mondeo’s boot nicely! The trip down was slow and long with traffic jams for the first few hours out of Paris. It started snowing even before we got to Lyon and there were a lot of hold-ups caused by accidents: stupid drivers who will not slow down even when their visibility is hampered. We had to stop twice for Kevin’s meals and stretch legs, but the trip home a week later was two hours shorter as we only stopped once. He was so good, and easy to entertain with cassettes, songs and toys. When he fell asleep I was able to listen to my cassettes on the Walkman, which made a nice change, as he doesn’t allow me to play them at home very often. He’ll only put up with my kind of music if I dance with him at the same time - the Hokey Cokey sends him into fits of laughter.

The holiday itself was very enjoyable, although our “apartment” consisted of two bedrooms and a shower room, so we were a bit cramped. We took him out to the kids’ playroom a lot and he loved running up and down the corridors of the hotel. We were on the first floor and there were no lifts, so he quickly learned to walk up and down the stairs, holding on to his Papa’s hands. There were four other children around his age, and although he was quite shy with them at first, after two days he was itching to be down from the highchair at mealtimes to run up and down with them between the tables in the dining hall. Their favourite game was stealing the mustard pots and bread baskets from other people’s tables, but everybody was very tolerant, even the two waitresses, under whose feet they always seemed to be. People, especially teenage girls, were constantly telling us what an adorable “petit bonhomme” he is. P. and I got quite a laugh out of watching various teenagers sitting sullenly with their parents at meals on the first day and then getting together into big rowdy groups thereafter. I suppose we were like that too and no doubt Kevin and little Sprout will do the same in fifteen years time.

Snow fell on the first three nights, so we woke up to a beautiful winterscape each day. Unfortunately Kevin didn’t enjoy his first walk on the slippery stuff, as he kept falling over, but it all started to melt by the third day so we were able to let him walk up the hill on the sanded road. He laughed a lot when P. and I threw snowballs at each other, and even more when we threw them at his own feet.

There was a small crèche on the premises, run by a young woman called Anne, who seemed very competent, so I took Kevin along for a few hours every morning. I had no intention of leaving him there, but by the third day he seemed to be enjoying the toys and games so much, and was much more relaxed with Anne than with other strangers, so I left him with her for 10 or 15 minutes at a time. He didn’t panic, so the next day I sat writing letters in a little room next door where he couldn’t see me, but I could hear if he was going to get to upset. He didn’t, so the next day P. and I were able to leave him for a whole afternoon and go for a walk together, which was so nice. Although Kevin wasn’t 100% happy, he sniffled a bit when he woke up from his nap and wouldn’t drink his milk or take his biscuits from Anne, I thought it was very encouraging that he didn’t actually cry and vomit like he did at the crèche last year.

So I wanted to try taking him to the crèche again as soon as we got home to Veneux. The first two days I stayed with him for half an hour and he played quite happily with all the toys. The fact that he’s walking now meant he was so much more confident. There is a small enclosure filled with blue plastic balls into which he launched himself with great delight, so I was very hopeful that it was going to work out. But the third day when I left him for the first time, he was very upset. He cried the whole time I was away and the two carers were unable to comfort him. He refused his fruit juice, favourite book, etc. He wasn’t sobbing and screaming, but dry-eyed and moaning, with his poor little chest heaving up and down. After 10 minutes or so I was able to comfort him and he drank a whole bottle of juice without stopping. Then he ran around again quite happily and didn’t want to leave! So I’ve got the message and I just won’t try again until he’s old enough to reason with and to make his own wishes known. I guess also that he remembered the crèche from last year. Also, the two carers there tend to just watch over the children without really getting involved in their games, whereas Anne on holiday played with Kevin and sang to him which he enjoyed. He obviously liked her better.

The Little Stirrer is not a rugby player, as I previously imagined, but a sumo wrestler. That’s what it feels like! I don’t remember Kevin kicking so strongly or so frequently. It’s not keeping me awake at night yet, but ... Please Mum, can you arrange to come over in May? It would be good if you could be in London by mid-May, assuming C. can put you up for a couple of weeks. You would be able to get cheaper Eurostar tickets by booking 2 weeks before coming over here, and if I actually go into labour earlier than expected, you would be able to come over even at short notice. Baby’s due on 6th June, but I’m sure it’ll be induced or Casareanned 2 weeks before that.

I’ve been having a busy social life lately: dinner at Anne & Etienne’s (Kevin and Alexandre played together really well), playgroup twice a week, two new friends over for coffee, and my Australian friend Hilary came for lunch today. For once Kevin stopped acting shy, when he and Charlotte (22 months) had eaten they went off and played together, leaving us to eat in peace. Eventually we heard them screaming with laughter and found them in my room playing hide and seek in the blankets!

Two weeks ago I started Aquagym for preggies at the swimming pool on Friday nights. The first session seemed like hard work, all the muscles got a workout, but the following week it was good fun and my backache has miraculously disappeared. It’s so lovely to be in the water and very nice to see tummies even bigger than mine.