If last week was the week when we first started to see the new newborn look fading, this was the week when we knew it for certain. They say there is a moment when babies start to ‘come into themselves’, when all the unscrumpling is finished, and this week we’re definitely unscrumpled.
And it’s not just that he’s stretching himself out more; those gorgeous soft little cheeks are round and plump and incredibly snugglable, with a suggestion of a little baby double chin on the way, and while his legs still seem incredibly long, they’re not quite so skinny as they first seemed.
Pip has always seemed quite an alert little baby, but even that is coming more to the fore; he’ll curl up in your arms quite contentedly just staring at your face or watching me make patterns in the sunlight with my fingers, just gazing back at the world with big eyes.
He’s over a pound more than his birthweight now, still tracking up the 91st centile, and still growing out of his clothes at a vast rate of knots. I haven’t quite had to go and buy the next size up in my favourites yet, fortunately they’re on the generous side, but it’s only a matter of time before I popper him into a fresh set of clothes and realise that I’ve trussed him up like a banana.
It’s been quite fun looking back over the girls’ baby books and seeing when they hit the same weight milestones; Kitty was three weeks before she hit his birth weight and Elma at five weeks was still a few ounces shy of Pip at three. It just makes them seem so dinky in comparison, and they weren’t exactly tiny babies.
I suspect there’s a very good chance that this boy of mine is going to be way way taller than his Mama, which probably means taller than H too, and we’re not exactly short, coming in at 6’0″ and 6’1″ respectively. We’ll get a rough guess at his six week check up when we see what centile he’s on for length but looking at this little man in his pram, or his Moses basket or just in my arms I’m going for at least tall enough to pat me on the head and call me ‘little Mummy’. I used to do that to my Mum and she was at least 5’8″ which I’m reliably informed is considered tall for a woman – just not in our family it’s not!
Last week I mentioned that was going to cut down on my dairy intake to see if that helped with Pip’s posseting; I’ve not always been as strict on the no dairy as I might have been – the notable lapses all involving birthday cake – but I have cut down a good deal and it seems to have helped, I don’t feel quite so permanently damp for one thing.
And as for the rest of us, and family life with our still blue eyed boy; well it’s wonderful, it’s hard, it’s full of laughter, there are moments when it feels like someone is always wailing, moments when you feel like you’re competing in a very bizarre version of the Generation Game (can you get lunch on the table including cutlery and drinks before the baby (a) wakes up (10 points) or (b) starts to clamour for his own lunch (5 points)), and moments when time seems to slow to a standstill and everything seems so perfect that you know all you can do is stop and drink it in before another squabble breaks out over whose turn it is to play on the scooter and life moves on.
In short it continues to be extraordinarily ordinary, and that in itself is a very wonderful thing.