It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Oh, Ergo, how I love thee

I have a new baby. (I know, I KNOW! I haven’t yet named the old new baby! I’m behind before I even start.) New New baby comes three days a week. After a week of so of visits, he has now begun his first week in Daycare. Mummy and Daddy are both back at work. This is the real deal now.

He’s not doing badly, all in all. In fact, he’s doing very well. The key to his adjustment? Unlike many newbies, he’s turning to me for comfort.

This, ladies and gentlemen? This. is HUGE.

Virtually all babies, for that first week or two, are sad and disoriented. They are in a strange environment (a week or two of visits does not make it familiar), and mummy and daddy, their sources of comfort and security, are nowhere to be seen.

No wonder they cry.

But until they view me as an alternate source of comfort and security, they are ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD!!!!

They are all alone, and VERY VERY LOUD.

Poor mites.

Now, this is normal. This is what I expect when I take on a new baby. (Remembering that babies, when they start with me, are a year old, well old enough to have expectations of the world. Expectations in which I most certainly do NOT figure. Expectations which I am, not to put too fine a point on it, royally forking up…)

But New New Baby is not that way. From the very first minute alone with me, he knew my purpose in his life. “OH! You WONDERFUL not-mama! You are HUMAN! You have ARMS! You can PICK ME UP AND HOLD ME TIGHT!!!”

And by tight, I mean tight. This boy clambers up my torso so as to bury his face in my neck, and clings like a little baby ape whose mummy is swinging through the tree-tops. It’s rather endearing. Sweaty, but endearing. The moment he has achieved full-body cling, the tears cease. Instantly, and for as long as he’s in my arms.

After a while of uber-clinging, he’ll sit back on my lap, start to take in his surroundings, and even make cheerful commentary on it.

“Dit! Dit, dah! Dah, dah, dah, dzat!” (‘D’ appears to be the consonant of the week.)

This, too, is very endearing.

However.

New, New Baby is a Big Big Boy. I don’t know his weight for sure, but I’m guessing a solid 14 or 15 kg (30 pounds). The boy is a TANK.

A cuddly, needy tank. Who wants — needs! — to be held all.the.time.

And so I say again, Ergo, how I love thee. I’m still sweaty, but I can move. I can interact with the others. And my home? Is howl-free.

I am a happy, albeit sweaty, woman.

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July 14, 2011 - Posted by | daycare | , , ,

9 Comments »

  1. Oh! That sounds tiring, but lovely too. I could use a sweaty baby “uber-cling” right about now. They have a wonderful way of making you feel so loved and needed!! But you must be quite happy to see the last of him at the end of the day too, LOL!!

    It is both: lovely and tiring, and yes, sweet as he is, I am glad to see him go at the end of the day. In fact, this first week, his mother’s been coming for him mid-afternoon, after his nap, which has been lovely all round.

    Comment by Patti | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  2. Everything I’ve read says that babies who can accept that kind of comfort are well attached to their parents, so kudos all around. But please be careful. Ergo or not your back is still vulnerable. So if this is New Baby is the other one Not So New Baby?

    Point taken. I did my back in a few years ago by tripping over a baby gate. I don’t want to go through anything like that again! It’s next to impossible to do the job with a bad back, and being self-employed, if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. That’s not a happy possibility!

    So far, they’ve been “New New Baby” and “Old New Baby”, but I really need to put some focussed thought into it and NAME THEM. Or at least, name Old New Baby. 😀

    Comment by jwg | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  3. I had to laugh at the description “tank baby”. I have one of those, too. 14 months old and 30 lbs. He’s just… huge. And really needing the cuddles right now, because he has a three week old sister at home (!!!) so I am a perfectly acceptable substitute mommy.

    It’s tough to manage with my pregnancy progressing. Hopefully he relaxes again soon, because I don’t have an Ergo (although clearly I should!)

    As I said to Rayne, my son was 30 pounds at a year. What I didn’t say was that he didn’t walk till he was 15 months old. I’ve always claimed that’s because it took those extra months to develop the muscle to shift that bulk! And now he’s long and lean. Oh, how they grow!

    Comment by hodgepodge | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  4. That’s the size of my second. We named him Quinn which was a good choice because of the Mighty Quinn song. We decided he was lucky not to be named Henry because we couldn’t help but call him Hank the Tank.

    With Quinn baby gates must be screwed into studs otherwise he’ll just knock them down. At two years old we are down to a single surviving gate.

    I’m laughing at that picture. My son was 30 pounds at a year. Big boy. Now he’s six foot tall and 150 pounds. From ‘brick shithouse’ (to quote one of my grandfather’s many pithy expressions) to ‘beanpole’ in a mere 20 years… 😀 Though he seems to have filled out some lately. I’ll have to ask him what he weighs these days.

    Comment by Rayne of Terror | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  5. It is so hard when I have a baby that age start care with me. Thank goodness he is seeking comfort from you. I love my Ergo. Is he comfortable enough that he lets you “wear” him on your back? For some reason, at least it seems less sweaty for them to be on my back and I have an easier time attending to the other children, wiping bottoms, cutting up fruits and veggies for meals, etc.

    I only wear them on my back. I’ve never had a baby so small that I’d put them on the front. Of course, I haven’t had it very long, but the babies I get are bigger anyway.

    Comment by chantelle | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  6. You’ll be a strong woman, too! I never had better biceps than when my daughter was 1 and 26lbs.

    Oh, I am. I can carry a twenty-five pound toddler on each hip up a flight of stairs. Done it any number of times. (It’s my knees that feel the strain, not my arms!) My left arm is appreciably stronger than my right, though, because you almost always carry kids on your left side. Ever noticed that?

    Comment by morecoffeepleaseobyn | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  7. I just want to point out what the first sentence sounds like to someone who reads this blog and doesn’t realize that you’re a daycare blog right away:

    “I have a new baby. (I know, I KNOW! I haven’t yet named the old new baby! I’m behind before I even start.)”

    I’m having a quiet laugh at your expense.

    Carry on.

    And now the Wonderful Husband is sharing in the hilarity. Mwah-ha.

    Comment by IfByYes | July 15, 2011 | Reply

  8. Oh, good. I was just wondering the other day if the Ergo was working for you. Aren’t the clingy babies so much easier to hold? The tank of a 26 month old that I spend my days with loves to be held but he is a leaner awayer, not a clinger. Leggy big brother is the monkey of the family. The only way to convince the little one to hold on a bit is to let go completely. As soon as he has an arm under his bum he is no help. Sigh. We have just about outgrown the Ergo. He’s a tank, I’m 5’3″ and when he would do his enthusiastic happy wiggle side to side while on my back I would just about fall over. It’s easier (and more useful and kind) to have him walk than it is to convince him not to do a happy wiggle.

    Comment by Samantha | July 16, 2011 | Reply

  9. […] tank. The boy is SOLID. – blond. Really, really blond, with the skin and eyes to match – cuddly. He likes to be held. A lot. I assume this will recede as he becomes more comfy at my home, but he does love his […]

    Pingback by Baby Naming #3… and 4 « It’s Not All Mary Poppins | July 22, 2011 | Reply


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