So you’re getting stronger, so your mum tells me…. And also bitier, which is apparently not so endearing. But I guess it at least shows you know what to do with your teeth. Unfortunately, during breast feeding isn’t the best time for that experimentation. Although I’m not sure why, but you’re happy to chew on anything. Well, anything except the teething products. Go figure.

This month, however, we went to the Medieval Fayre in Blacktown. I think you must have enjoyed that. You seemed constantly in awe at all the colours, the sparkly costumes, and the jousting. Not that I’m condoning that as a school sport alternative though. It was a great day, and we got to hang out with Josh and Kay. I have a funny feeling that you know there is a baby there, even though I don’t know how.

And you’ve finally started rolling. A lot. Which is great. You can finally move yourself from place to place, although in a slightly unorthodox fashion. But you move fast. It’s not like lightening, although I’ve found myself trying to keep one eye on you at all times. I mean, that could also be because of my slight parenting blunder last month, but we won’t mention that will we???

You’ve also properly found your hands, and your grip. I mean, you always had a pretty mean grip, but now you’ve started to realise that you don’t have to use your fingers all at once. You can use them one at a time. And I have to say, those nails are sharp, little girl! There’s been a couple of occasions where I have had to check my lips or face after I put you down to see if you accidentally caused any permanent damage.

But the best part of it all is your laugh. You really do laugh. And I must admit (and I’m sure your mother will back me up), that I sometimes act a little silly to solicit that laugh. We have had a few sessions on the change table with either your toothbrush or a nappy being placed on your tummy, in which you find great hilarity. I love your laugh, it makes me crack up. I’m sure there have been a few occasions where your mum has come in to find us both cracking up laughing, me to the point of almost collapsing on the ground. You crack me up my gorgeous girl.

We have, however this month, your mother and I, started to discuss routine. I guess we always felt that ‘going with the flow’ was what worked for us, so it would be fine for you. I think maybe we got that one a little wrong. You seem to do better with a little bit of structure. So we’ll try that I guess and see how things play out.

You know, I always had this romanticised version of having kids in my head, and thought that would be the way things would happen and progress. Boy was I wrong! It’s so much better. You are one of the coolest people I have ever been blessed with getting to know. And I’m so lucky to be your dad. It’s one heck of a job, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Be good

Dad

Well, this month started out well. We had a cold, which due to your apparent aversion to brand name pain relief, required a late night trip to the chemist, and then you went and got teeth. Or more appropriately, razorblades in your mouth. Wow, those things are sharp. But it’s kind of cute too. Your little gummy grin, has turned into a slightly toothy smile. And it’s pretty cool to see...

We now have huge stocks of teething pain relief, normal pain relief, and anything else I could find. Which, as it turns out, is a relatively good thing. As you decided the cold had not yet left you, you needed, on more than one occasion, a bit of help getting down to sleep off the illness. Now I know there are some people out there that poo poo the whole idea, but if you’re sick and in pain, then I say you deserve some relief, bugger the nay-sayers.

Now, on to the ‘incident’. Apparently you can roll… quickly… I didn’t realise this (until this month). However, you very kindly, decided that you would demonstrate your new found ability by removing yourself from the couch seat, and quickly depositing yourself on the floor. And when I say quickly, I’m pretty sure even I don’t get off the couch that fast. So that was fun. I mean, I caught you, or at least the sleep sack you were in at the time. However, and I’ll emphasise this again, I’m not a big fan of lycra, so even though it slowed you down, you still had a bit of a knock.

After recovering slightly from my nervous breakdown, we called the night nurse, who ran us thorough all of the testing to see if there were any indicators of anything more serious. Fortunately, everything looked okay. Unfortunately, your dad was still a little wired and anxious. So that night, you slept really well. I on the other hand, didn’t sleep at all, instead watching you in the monitor to make sure you were okay.

So after that exciting experience, I finally realised that you’re a little tougher than I gave you credit for. Not the best way to figure that out, but at least we know.

And you finally got some one on one time with Grumps. I’m glad you got to spend some time with him, as I know sometimes you get stolen by Gigi and the Pussycat when you see them. And your Grumps is a cool guy. And it seems you thought this too. Although Mum said that you had a few screaming fits while he was around, he seemed to take them in his stride, and you calmed down once you figured that you couldn’t seem to stir him up.

But it was great that he came up so that Mum could get some stuff done. I know she appreciated it, and she was probably happier once it had all been done, and she still knew that someone was watching over you.

And the most exciting news (for me anyhow) is… FOOD!!! You’re finally on solids. Well, rice cereal, but solids none the less. And that is a very cool step. You seem to be really enjoying the food, as new as it is. And mum has made you some apple, which you also seem to be loving. I can’t wait until we can feed you even more stuff, and start giving you herbs and spices… Although I think that may be better left for a while.

So all in all, it has been a pretty good month. I mean, dad has been showing off his bad dance moves with you in the lounge room, and we have been spending some more time together, which have both been fantastic, or at least that’s what I will tell you. But you have been growing before our very eyes, and changing every day. You’re a pretty awesome little girl, and I reckon you’re teaching me just about as much about parenting as I hopefully am about being a decent person.

Thanks for the smiles by the way. They make the day better than you could know.

Dad

So, my dear, it has been an interesting month. We had our first family holiday, to the wineries, of course… What a great annual tradition to instil in you while you are so young. People always say to build character while children are young. And what better way to instil character than with a good cold climate Shiraz. Well, maybe when you’re a bit older.

But the holiday was great…..apart from the crying. Apparently you’re not quite over the terror that is our car. Either that or you’re allergic to minivans… Could be either. But we were all good for the first 2 legs of our trip. We got to Goulburn, you had been asleep for most of the way, and by Holbrook, you had only had a little cry. However, that was where we lost you. I think you loved getting out of the car, and seeing your grandparents. Unfortunately, then you weren’t too keen on getting back in the car after that to continue, and you were happy to let us know.

All in all though, it wasn’t a terrible trip. There was no poo-splosions, or spew, and everyone was fine on arrival (physically anyhow). And I must admit (because others may not), that the place I picked out for us turned out to be fantastic. It was a great house. Big, spacious, fireplace, and decent kitchen. And you seemed to like it too. Which is good, because we may be seeing it each year for a while.

The weekend progressed well. Everyone was enamoured with you, as well they should be. We had a great weekend, and you made a few new friends. Ones that I hope we get to see at least a few more times over the coming years.

Now, for the good stuff… Teeth!!! (almost) Wow, I don’t think your mother and I were expecting teeth this early. However, my mother told us that you didn’t start any differently than me, so I guess genetics comes into play?? And you didn’t seem to be over grizzly, or cranky, but you did seem a bit out of sorts.

I think you had a pretty rough trot this month. With teething, a virus, and what seems to have been a fairly violent reaction to children’s panadol, it was on for young and old apparently. But we got through it. That is to say, your mother got through it, and I tried not to get in the way too much.

But by far the best part of this month is how aware and interactive you are. You found your hands a bit more, and your feet. And girl, are you obsessed. You know, to your credit, if I could get my feet into my mouth, I would probably find that pretty cool too. You have also started to smile a bit more when I ‘entertain’ you (or act like a fool, as your mum might say).

You are a very cool little girl, and I love the time we’re spending together. Almost as much as I’m sure you do.

Many hugs and kisses

Dad

Ok, So I might have started a little late...

Genevieve,
You know, it's hard being your dad, and your mum's husband, and trying to keep my s@#$ stuff together.

I try, I really do... But sometimes I kind of get so far towards the end of my tether that I find myself grasping at thin air...

But now that that's out of the way, let me tell you about the first couple of months;

It's been an experience, that's for sure... You came out, spent a day in special care, then the rest of the week ensuring that we weren't being too heavy on the sleep. But you know, it wasn't so challenging (for me) in hospital, it was when we got you home that I had that 'OH S#$@!' moment.

So it's been here and there since then. I always had this intention to write letters once every week or two to you and your mum. That may, or more likely may not, have succeeded. But I thought about it the other day, and realised that these may be the things from your childhood that you treasure later in life, and whether you choose to use them as a memory or a fire lighter, I wanted you to have them none the less...

Parenting isn't as easy as people make it look. It isn't until you have kids of your own that you realise that the 'I have it all together' face, is carefully crafted in what I am pretty sure is a volatile combination of No-Doz and red wine. Saying that, there is a joy and undeniable happiness that having a beautiful little girl brings.

To be honest, I had no idea what was going to happen. You ask your mum, I'm (shall we say...) not the most relaxed of people. That would be the PC way to say it anyhow. So coming into having you, I'm not sure that either she or I really had a lot of faith that I wasn't going to lose it, and become fully mentally unstable (it was always a precarious balance). But, to my surprise (and the dubious looks from your mother), I seem to have relaxed (slightly) into it.

So how were the first few months, when I was too busy procrastinating to write any of these posts? They were great, busy, intense, amazing, terrifying, and a number of other things that would start to make this a little too long winded for anyone's good. I couldn't have ever imagined being a dad, but it's awesome. I mean, projectile poop, lots of gas (still can't put it past your mum when i try and blame mine on you), lots, and I mean lots, of crying (sometimes). But apart from that, everything has been super easy. That could of course be because mum has done a lot, or most, of the work. And she has done a heck of a job.

It was a fairly impressive occasion when you first smiled. I think it was gas, but we'll take what we can get. It did, however, get better from there. There were more smiles, definitely more gas, but some of them even came without the inevitable sound effects of previous attempts. We have tried to catch you every day for a photo (when you play ball) so that we have a record of you growing, and smiling, seeing as it goes so fast. I do, however, love the fact that you smile at me (or is that laugh at me?). Either way, thanks for making me feel better sometimes.

I made this fantastic decision to take another job before you were born (well, I thought it was fantastic, apparently your mother thought that it turned me into a complete sod). I wanted to bring in a little more cash to help out. Unfortunately, it seems that more cash also creates a slightly less helpful husband. And seeing as I'm not bringing in enough money to pay for a full time (or even part time) housekeeper, I cut back my hours. But, on the plus side, I get free coffee, and have met some great people (some of whom you have already met).

Now, to address something... The car seat.

We were told, by so many people I can't even remember now, that if nothing else worked, we could always put you in the car seat and go for a drive, and that 'always' works to calm down an upset child. Uh-huh. Sure. Always huh? Not so much for you. By the sound of it, I swear there is someone in the back of the car trying to give you a tattoo every time we put you in the car. Now, I'll give it to you, you have started to be better, when the car is moving, although as soon as I brake, you seem to notice, in a very uncomfortable way. So, I've finally figured it out. You're either going to be a F1 driver, or we're going to have to invest in a pair of good industrial ear plugs. Guess we'll wait and find out.

All this aside, I just want to let you know how incredible it is to have a daughter like you. When you smile, you make me smile (you must get it from your mother). I had all these great plans to not spoil you. FAIL! You get a lot of great things from both your mum and I, and I'm hoping that you can avoid the other (shall we say less desirable) traits. Although I guess I'm just going to have to live with the eyebrow raising and nostril flaring. I love you with all I have, and I just hope my feeble attempt at parenting you is enough to give you what you need. You'll always have my support, and love, and I'll always be here for you.

So here's hoping my penchant for procrastination has waned enough to keep these letters coming for you.

All my Love
Dad