Ouch Eina

Six weeks means the first inoculations on that special card I have. Dad and sis Kayleigh took a chance and presented themselves (and me) at the local state clinic in Westville. When they handed Dad waiting ticket No 82 he thought “here we go” but we were soon ushered past all the sick people to the new baby section where they were only two of us. After a short wait a nurse gave me the once over before squirting some stuff in my mouth. I hit the 4 kg mark on the scale and then it was time for the real reason of our visit. Squeamish Dad had to hold my legs and arms while the same kind nurse turned into the Gestapo. Not one but four needles were stuck in my legs. As the first one went in the pain was so horrific that I lost my breath trying to scream. After a few seconds I let rip and by then the next three needles were poking into my tender little thighs. Thanks goodness I will have no conscious memory of this in years to come. As soon as he could Dad gathered me up and held me close and I settled down. In four weeks we return for more of the same. Bummer.

Smoke and Mirrors

Today the powers that be decided that I was to be baptised. They dressed me in a cute white baptisim dress that was bought by granny Elaine's niece. There was a long service in St Pauls Church before Dad carried me to the font and Rev Alvin Sigamoney (another relative) poured some holy water over my forehead. All this is on video as I cannot vouch for any of it. I simply slept through the whole episode. I would however like to thank all those that attended. Oh yes I also gained another three “godmothers. viz Marcelle Robbins (Dads sister) Lorna Charles (Moms best friend) and Natalie Sigamoney whose hubbie  Martin is really not too shabby on the ivories and played the church pipe organ for me. Oh yes nearly left out the "godfather" who of course is my Uncle... Mark Sigamoney.

Papoose

Kangaroos know a thing or two about closeness and stuff. I love manipulating my Dad to carry me around on his morning shift in this papoose. Within minutes of him hooking me up, so to speak, I drift off. He even manages to do boring housework stuff like vacuuming etc. Just when he thinks it is safe to put me back in my crib I let rip with some wails and its back into the papoose again. I just love the morning shift. Now when are we going to hit that new beachfront on the bicycle?

Mom

The most important person in my life has not been mentioned much so far. My Mom..Sometimes I wonder if she did not give her life so that I could live. I know it sounds dramatic but until Dad gets the autopsy results it is looking more and more that way.
Mom liked to go by the name of "Wildflower" she often used it as a password for various applications. So when Dad spotted this wild Cosmos growing on the side of the road on the way to Splashy Fen he screeched to a halt and got Mom to pose with her favourite subject.
I just know Dad will put together all the photos and videos he has on Mom so that one day when  I am big enough I will learn to love and know her as all those that knew her did. We will never forget you Wildflower…

“Two birds with one stone”

OK I know it’s two days in a row now but I just had to show you this nifty sleeping place I discovered. Pretty comfy for me and allows Dad to do some computer stuff at the same time. For some reason when he does the morning shift with me I refuse to sleep when put down. As soon as he holds me I doze off and when he puts me in the crib I wail until he picks me up again..and so it goes. This way we both get to do what we want.

4 Weeks and growing

Every two weeks I get to go out. Not far mind you , just to the local chemist to use his baby scale. I weighed in at 3.5kgs today which is almost  two blocks of butter more than last time.So a steady rate of about 200g per week. This means Dad can now carry me in the “papoose” which has strict instructions for a min weight of 3.5kgs. Of course in his excitement he forgot to bring his camera and anyway I slept through the whole weighing thing while the staff oohed and aahed . When we got back Dad took this shot of my foot complete with his dirty fingernails. Not too sure how it represents being weighed but it will have to do.

Seeing eye to eye

What can i say. Cheryl is my half sisters mom so I guess we are related. Anyhow she has stepped into the breech so to say and somehow between work and with all the other family members we manage.  We have a lot of fun except in the wee hours of the morning when anyone would be grumpy except our cat and bunny who love the midnight hours. I am hoping to sleep a little longer through the night as I grow a little more. Tomorrow is another milestone as I hit the four week mark so we are off to the weigh scale to see how much of that fatty stuff I have added to my girth. Will report back soonest.

Damn Cheek

I spoke earlier of boundaries being drawn between myself and Tink Tink otherwise known as Mr T. Seems like he has just stepped over the line.My fancy car seat especially for little babies has been commandeered by this furry creature. Just because the temperature has dropped a little he felt this would be a cosy place for the next few days. Well I got news for him,  come next Wednesday I am off to the clinic for a weigh in session and I don't want no fleas in my newly washed French (nogal) car seat. See to it Dad!

Who is this dude?

So cousin Ian Robbins from Cape Town arrives today. Him and his two long haired mates have all their band gear with them in a strange looking bakkie (pick up). Apparently long hair is required when the head banging parts of the song arrive and they all thrash up and down together as one.
Ian seems to think that if I leave my already abundant hair to grow they might consider a guest spot for me on one of their tours.Check out “A walk with the wicked” on the net where you can see how wild these innocent young boys can be. Other than that I am still gulping down Nan by the bucket load and my neck muscles are now strong enough to turn my head from side to side at the mean old age of three weeks. Actually I was meant to be born today but you already know the story of my early arrival.

Clothes and Stuff

Everyone has been so kind to me sending me masses of baby clothes. I have decided to open a special baby boutique and sell from the gate of my house .Only kidding… but I do want to thank everyone for the cute outfits they have sent me from all over the world. I had to buy some special plastic storage boxes for the the stuff I still have to grow into... Can’t wait to strut my stuff.

Last Wednesday was my first outing since coming home. So here I think I’m off to an ice cream parlour and my Dad bundles me into this clinic place, Here a nice lady weighed me (3.1kg) prodded me and stretched my little legs to see everything works.  Sister Elizabeth has vast experience and gave me full marks. She even said don’t bother to come back unless there are any problems. Dad can just weigh me on the scale outside the clinic when my diapers start splitting from all the extra weight I am putting on.

Don’t you love my Mandela outfit? I think I will send him a photo of me for his album.

 

Sisters are doing it for themselves

I nearly forgot to mention my other sister Kayleigh. She is fifteen going on twenty one. Hopefully dad will foster her all being well so that’s one more family member to take care of me when I scream and yell as I am wont to do at times. The first thing Kayleigh does when Dad brings her home from school is kiss and cuddle me which is nice except if I am half asleep and need a new nappy. One of these days we will head for the beach on a cycle tour which should be nice if its not too hot.

Bottle is best (no option)

So this is what a teat feels like. Nice and squidgy and soft almost like the real thing. This Nan formula isn't half bad as well. Seems to agree with my system with just a few hiccups and a few burps after sucking in this high tech bottle with its special valve to prevent that awful colic stuff. Everyone has been wonderful giving me food clothes and support. I have never had so many hugs and kisses in so few days. What a pity my mom could not hold me, I’m sure she would be happy if she could see all the attention I am getting. I need to feed every three to four hours and I sleep in between. All I do is make some sucking sounds and stuff and they have a bottle ready for me in a flash…cool hey. Oh yes if you want to see more of me just click on the image for a full size high def shot. (Thanks Dad)

Day 08 Coming Home

At last. It seems like forever and not one miserable week. My Dad came to collect me from hospital and take me home. The first creature I was introduced to was the family cat would you believe. We just had to make sure that the boundaries were set here and Mr T would not be sharing my cot for now. Then it was the turn of the builders working on the house and finally I got to see my room. I have now grown from 2.6kg to about 2.8kg so still have to catch up a little but I am working on it. I can't wait to suck on a real teat and not slurp from those plastic cups anymore..yuck

Day 05 Getting Better

Ok here is my big sister Roxanne. She knows a bit about babies being a final year student of nursing at varsity. That's why I let her hold me and didn't cry. They still had some tubes in me and would you believe we aren't allowed bottles and dummies to suck on. We drink from cups like adults. Something to do with hygiene they say. I am now tired of these antibiotics they have been giving me as they said my white blood cells were too high or too low I can't remember. I mean my father is white so what's the problem here. Is this not the new South Africa or what! When can I go to my new home?

17 August 2010 My First Day on earth

Ok It wasn't exactly the best start to my life. They actually had to cut me from my mothers womb and give me oxygen and all those other strange tubes that they poked into me. I was three weeks early and really needed to get out of there as I knew something was not right. When my heart started to go at odd speeds the doctors got all worried and said they must get me out at once hence the C section.The worst bit is that I never got to see my mum as she passed away thirty hours later from liver failure while they had me in an incubator while she was also on various tubes and drips. It turns out that my name "Cesira" means one who was cut from the womb and has a lot of hair. Google it for yourself!