Then comes a peace

Mr Man returned home but life as a family had an extended definition until today. I heard a saying that visitors are like prawns, after 3 days it is time to throw them out, no matter how nice they are, and I think that is remarkably close to a reliable rule.

That said, for every private moment lost a special moment was gained. So, while Bear's second birthday present giving was not only interrupted but completely and thoughtlessly railroaded to the point where a dad stormed downstairs and banged things around in the kitchen, there was also much bonding with otherwise barely familiar relatives.

In fact, while the visitors were down to meet a Cub, it was a Bear who held most of their attention. Which, given how little she sees of most of them, is probably a good thing.

The Little Man is my Zen child; remarkably peaceful, balanced, and calm (let's skim over some punchy wailing last night as he got a bit out of sorts!).

He has received a few less presents and cards, which I suppose comes from the now-familiarity of the baby thing, but this has its benefits. Being able to buy him a special soft toy will be cute- Bear had a mountain of them so I felt too guilty to add to the sprawl last time. And on that note Cubster will have loads to pick through, much of it still close to new condition.

The house is quiet, we've turned the TV off and are pottering through our space, rediscovering a home. Bear sleeps, book on pillow as she's taken to doing, and Mr Man lies in blissful ignorance of the world in his bassinette.

Minh is curled up somewhere and Mao, of course, is doing ever-smaller circles around the room as he sizes up my lap. It is time to make some space and hang out with my fam.

Can't complain.

Everything's gonna be alright babygirl

Little Mr Man is cradled in my left arm, face against my chest, sleeping. A Bear has slumped into the pillows on my right, curled into my side under my right arm, and is off with the fairies. Beloved chats with her mum, I am lying back thinking nothing, at peace.

I notice Bear stir, a slight adjustment, then her eyes open a little.

Suddenly she is up on her feet grabbing at my right shoulder crying, pleading "No Daddy No Daddy No!!" I squeeze her in, I can't move, can't put the Cublet down or hand him to anyone, can only tell her over and over that I love her and that everything's gonna be alright until she calms, somewhat, and slumps again.

It tore my heart open.

She's been good, actually trying hard not to show her confusion and fear I think, making an effort and being helpful. And I think things are going as well as we could expect with 'the adjustment'. But there's a melancholy in her eyes and it doesn't help that we are living between two homes at the moment.

Poor baby girl, everything's gonna be alright...

A Son is Born

Son. I have a son.

After a rather nonchalant beginning, kicking around for a couple of hours while Beloved's contractions went from 'need a rub' to 'volume=11', a Little Man made an entrance, casually pushing through in about 5, gritting, grunting contractions.

Sunrise over the city behind us and Ben Harper warbling softly in the air.

I took a Cublet as he came out, kissed his messy little mop of velous hair, then passed him to a very satisfied looking mum.

It's a beautiful day.