Category: Zac

Letters to, Zac

Three years of Zac

yannisms

Dear Zac,

Exactly three years ago, at this very hour, I was trying to sleep. And failing. Terribly. Because you were then in my womb and you were preparing to make your appearance into this world. And boy, did you make it known to me that you were READY. TO. BE. OUT.

The contractions, oh, the contractions. They came in waves and robbed me of my sleep. I breathed and dozed and cringed and groaned. Goodness knows where I got the strength to withstand the never-ending torrent of pain. But I did. (And those people who talk of forgetting the pain? LIARS.)

12 hours after you started making your descent, out you came. But first, you had to tear the walls of my interior while you were making your grand appearance. And this, my darling, is our first taste of your personality.

At almost three (because it isn’t the hour yet), you dictate your own pace. You are such a little individual, you refuse to live by our hour. Instead, you choose what you want to do and when you want to do it. Nobody can force you to do anything, instead, you will go about it your own way.

Take a simple task such as getting a shower. Even after numerous warnings in advance, you do not comply. Instead, you will tell me, “I am practising the piano, Mummy” or “I am still building my ship/airplane/train/X-Wing fighter/whatever mode of transport”. I will leave you be and true enough, when you decide that it is time to shower, you will waltz into the bathroom.

It can be extremely frustrating, especially on days when I have to attend to my lessons after you go to bed and things are running behind schedule. But at the same time, I know that I have to let you go your own way. I shouldn’t clip your wings and confine you to a rigid world when you are still in the midst of testing the boundaries of your independence. And in time to come, this streak will serve you well as an adult. In the meantime, I just have to be patient and heave a big sigh inward.

Pace aside, you also have this complete and utter disregard for your safety. You just MOVE, no matter how, no matter what. There are times when I wonder if I had birthed a tornado instead of a child. You are always tearing around the house and I know I should stop you but then you are so freaking cute as you run around on your chubby little legs.

Oh yes, the chubs. Let’s talk about that. I love, LOVE that you are such a squishy pie. I love to hug you, to squeeze you tightly in my arms, to kiss your bouncy cheeks. You are my baby bear. I love that you still fit so snugly into my arms and you still allow me to kiss and snuggle up to you at bedtime.

But do you sleep? Hell no. Again, this thing with going at your own pace. You have perfected an elaborate dance which I have to adhere to. First, you tell me you want to nurse. And then you say that you are done and command me to lie down with your brother. But you will not sleep. Instead, you talk and sing songs and recite rhymes and talk some more (and your grandmothers thought that you were mute at two?!). Finally, you command me down to your bed, tell me you are thirsty, run out to get water, run back and ask to nurse before you drift off to sleep.

Really, I could go on and on about the things that you do and the things that you say but I daresay a post on my blog will not suffice. Nothing but seeing you in person can capture the kind of personality that you are. You are extremely annoying but so damn cute. You are extremely stubborn but so damn funny.

I mean, you are the kid who bursts into our bedroom at 6-freaking-AM and shouts, “I am here! Wake up Mummy! The sun is up!”

But you are also the kid who still wants mummy to carry him, and wraps his arms around my neck so lovingly. You are the kid who rolls on top of me to say “good morning” and to give me my good morning kiss. You are the kid who, when I pretend to be sad, will grab me by the neck, kiss me soundly on the lips and say, “I kiss you! You like?” You are the kid who chuckles so infectiously at the silliest things in the world. You are the kid who is ever so generous with your brother when he demands something that you have (although you are also the kid who will bop your brother on the face like a thug when you are pissed off with him). You are the kid who can play nicely with your brother without us actively supervising you. You are the kid who dances like nobody is watching. You are the kid who eats like a champ and tries everything. You are the kid who sometimes wake up and say, “Mummy I wake up already.” (You are also the kid who wakes up, talks up a storm LOUDLY and demands that we all wake up with you, unlike your brother who could quietly babble to himself until we were ready to be awake.)

I could go on and on but oh there aren’t enough words to say how much you mean to me. I love everything about you, from your smelly, sweaty head to your delicious little toes. From the moment I knew of your existence as a bunch of microscopic cells, I have loved you with everything that my fragile human heart can muster and more.

I don’t know if you will ever understand the depth of your mother’s love. But remember that no matter what, no matter where you do, our arms will always be a safe, open harbour for you to return to.

To my baby bubba, I love you to the moon and back. Stay fearless. Stay joyful.

Love,
Mummy

Motherhood, Zac

Zac turns Two

yannisms

Today, my bubba turns two.

Two years on, I still recall every moment of my labour and his birth in great detail. The contractions that came in waves, the nausea that had me running to the bathroom again and again. The relief that flooded my every fibre when the nurses at the delivery ward told me that I was 8cm dilated. The confusion that ran through my brains when I was asked to push. The quiet determination in trying all ways and means to get this baby out of my body. The bubbling joy that removed all traces of pain when they told me it was a boy. The contented love in seeing husband cuddle his newborn. The sense of completion when I held his tiny pink body in my arms and said, hello Zac.

This littlest one of ours, ah, he is everything that we have wanted and yet completely unexpected. The greatest beauty in parenting more than one child is in seeing how they develop and blossom into their own individual identities, despite coming from the same gene pool. Needless to say, Zac is so different from his brother and yet so alike.

Dear Zac,

And just like that, another year has passed. If your first year seemed to have zoomed past at scarily great speed, then this second year has been so much more FUN and ridiculously hilarious.

You, my darling boy, are the cheekiest little person in the world. I cannot believe the things that you get up to – jumping on papa and mummy’s bed as if it’s a trampoline, trying to sit on the cats, tossing your bowl and spoon off from the table when you are bored at the dining table, blowing raspberries with oodles of saliva, demanding more food in your bowl. And yet when we tell you off sternly, you simply crack us your sweetest grin, so wide that your eyes literally disappear into slits. Sometimes, I have to turn away so you cannot see me laugh. You are my THUG BABY, the one whose DNA is devoid of FEAR.

It’s of no wonder, then, that the teachers at your daycare are so in love with you. Yes, that was one of the things that we did, placing you in your brother’s daycare when you turned 21 months. You cried and cried in the first few weeks, and it broke my heart to see you sobbing away when I returned to pick you up.

But you know, we all expected you to be a trooper and you did so good. By the end of a month, you had more or less adjusted and while you would cling to me at drop off, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.

So back to the teachers. They gush about you all the time, and they would tell me how your smile melts their hearts. Once, your teacher Lina told me incredulously that you ate four servings of lunch. I burst out laughing. You do make it my money’s worth, I dare say.

School has been good for you though, despite my initial reservations at putting you there so early. Your vocabulary has increased tremendously and you come home humming songs. When we sing to you, you try to chime in, complete with actions. Even your skeptical grandmothers can see how school has helped you in becoming more verbal – they who were worried that you hardly spoke a word at home. You are such a funny little person, stringing words into short sentences like “I want do!” and “Papa wake up” and “Thank you mummy” and (more frequently) “sorry Aidan!”

You are my little tornado, my little bull. You have so, so, so much energy every single day. From the morning you are up, you are on the go go go. It’s so amazing how much zest for life you have. I wish that you will always have that joy for living, the tremendous love for doing. And that’s one thing I hope we, as parents, won’t go wrong.

I know that we are constantly on the sidelines saying, “No Zac, don’t do this and don’t do that.” We worry about your safety, worry about you getting yet another bump on the head. And yet at the same time, I try to remember that this is what will get you through life, this desire to try new things, to push boundaries and see what you can get out of it. It’s an important trait to have in life, and I never want to see you lose it or be forced to conform.

Parenting is a strange journey – there is no instruction manual, there is no pause button and more importantly, there is no way that we can ever go back to right the mistakes that we make. With you, we have the benefit of hindsight gained from the experience of parenting your brother but that doesn’t make us perfect parents, because you are so different from him. I can only hope that the seeds that we have laid today will form the foundation of a future for you – one where you are a good, kind, loving, empathetic man with that cheeky sense of humour and crazy love for living that you have today at the grand old age of two.

Ah yes, that’s where we are today. The age of two. You are my squishy bear, the one whom I am still nursing to sleep every night (you will now dictate which side to start first and when you are done). The one whom I am still baby wearing in my wrap. The one who doles out hugs and kisses, and has “conversations” with me when wrapped. The one whom I squeeze and kiss to death every single day because you are just so delectable. The one whom I will gaze upon in the quiet night after you have drifted off into slumberland, listening to your even breathing and then gently kissing your bouncy cheeks while sniffing your hair. The one who makes me smile as you zip down the corridor in typical Zac fashion. The one who is my last baby, who is showing me that the very last set of firsts should not be a source of sadness but a thing of impermanence, ready to be celebrated and cherished.

When you are older, all these may not make any sense to you or mean anything much. But know that these memories matter to your old mother, they will be what keeps me going when I am silver haired and have nothing to live for.

And right now, these are the memories that keep me afloat when times are hard – and they do get hard – and during moments when I feel like I may have failed as a mother.

Because these are beautiful memories that tell me that no matter what’s been said and done, you are happy and laughing and that’s all that is important.

Happy birthday, my darling Zac. I love you, baby boy and know that we will always have your back.

Stay fearless. Stay joyful.

Always,
Mummy.

Zac

12 months of Zac

yannisms

My dear son,

When you were born, we went to the fortune teller to pick out a Chinese name for you. He looked at your ba zi thoughtfully and said, “This one will be active.” I groaned a little and said, “Another active one?” He looked at me knowingly and replied, “Not just active, but very very very active.”

True enough, you have turned out to be a very active baby, and an impish, tenacious one at that.

At the grand ‘ol age of 11 months, you decided that you wanted to walk. By then, you were already pulling yourself up to standing position and cruising quite effortlessly. And then one evening, you were poised to take a step. My heart nearly stopped. But you didn’t. Instead, you continued trying and trying and a week later, when I came back from work, you took your first wobbly steps towards me.

Since then, you have not looked back. You walk everywhere. You hate it when your big brother is running around and you aren’t. There is a reason why babies at this age are called toddlers, because they look so damn cute toddling around. You, my darling boy, look like an adorably drunk penguin. You always walk with that little smirk hanging on your lips, as if to say, hey check out me walking.

With your brother, we went through a long period of practising with him. Those were the days when we had creaky achy backs because he wanted to walk and he couldn’t and so we had to bend over to hold his hand or arm. We let him use the walking wagon quite a fair bit and it took him a while before he finally had the confidence to walk unaided. On hindsight, he does have a cautious streak in him.

You, on the other hand, went from cruising to walking just like that. No help, no extra cheer from us. You just walked. And you are so bloody good at it. So much so that you hate it when we stop you from walking and carry you (when you are dying to walk).

And that’s so telling of your personality. You just grab life by the horns and move, with scarcely any regard for your safety. You just do it, with no hesitation, no fear, no thought. And now that you are mobile, you are almost always mobile. It’s rare to see you still, except during bedtime when you are happily flipping the pages of your board books. And thankfully, you do love your books.

Right now, you are in love with The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You can sit and listen attentively as I read, and then poke your fingers in the little holes. That’s when you are still. For the next nanosecond. And then you are grabbing the book to do this on your own. No help please, thank you very much.

Other things that make you happy are bubbles during bath time. When I carry you into the bedroom and say BUBBLES, a delighted grin spreads over your face and you go AHH. We really need to film it down, it’s quite entertaining.

The person that you adore most right now is mama. And it’s so nice to be so loved by you. Every evening, when we arrive home from school, we’d call for you and you’d clamber over to the door in a heady mix of glee and excitement. Then you’d demand to be carried and you’d nestle your (smelly sweaty) head into mine.

Oh how I love that baby noggin!

I just have this feeling that you are going to be challenging us quite a fair bit. Your brother has an awareness of boundaries but it looks like you have no care for them at all. I am not sure how this is going to pan out but I am pretty certain that it involves us chasing you down and losing weight in the process.

So you, in a nutshell, after twelve months. A most joyful, curious, determined, affectionate little fellow. It’s going to be so fun watching you grow.

We love you, little bubba, right to the moon and back.

Love,
Mama

12 months of Zac@

Zac

365 days of Zac

yannisms

Exactly one year ago, I was trying to fall asleep as wave after wave of contractions assailed me.

After 12 hours of labour, Zac arrived and stole our hearts forever and ever.

My second-born has been everything I had hoped for and more. He makes me laugh every single day and makes my heart sing. Every night, I settle into bed next to him and give his noggin’ a little sniff before I drift off into sleep. And in the mornings, I wake to his loud and vociferous complaining that he is the only one who is awake. He sees me crack open my eyelid and bursts into the biggest and brightest smile.

You know how some women wonder if they would be able to love their second-born as much as they do their first? I never had that doubt. From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I was already in love. I knew that I would love him the same way I love his brother, and that I would love him in different ways too.

With Aidan, I approached his first birthday with a sense of relief that we had somehow survived parenthood. His birth had been a huge shock to our systems, our lives, and we had gotten through a year without killing anybody.

But now, with Zac, all I can feel is a sense of wistful nostalgia, that time had passed by so quickly. He’s also my last baby so this feels extra poignant.

Tomorrow morning when he wakes, he will be One. Wow.

Zac's favourite spot: the balcony

Letters to, Zac

11 months of Zac

yannisms

Dearest Zac,

I have been your mama for 11 months (well, more if you consider that I became your mama from the day you were made) and I really should not be surprised by the notion of speed when it comes to you. And yet you take me by surprise all the time.

After all, it seems like we merely blinked and you changed from that tiny little mewling newborn to this funny, feisty not-so-little fellow. We laughed and there it was, your very first step. It feels like you are dashing through life, eager to experience anything and everything that it has to offer.

And I can’t slow you down or slow time down.

Let’s talk baby steps. One evening, you were pushing your way up to standing. I smiled at you and you smiled back at me, and then you looked like you were going to take your first step towards me. I screamed “no!” and you plopped back down on your cushy bum, nonchalant and as if nothing had happened. My heart pounded a little, as the first sprigs of realisation that you are zipping towards your first birthday took shape.

A few days later, there it was, your very first wobbly step. And then a few days later, a few more wobbly steps followed the first.

You may not quite know the significance of your first step, bubba, but oh how they mean the world to me. It represents the start of your journey away from babyhood, 11 months after your birth. I am still trying to come to terms with how fast time seems to fly by with you and here you are, walking towards me with that impish smile on that face that I gaze upon every night as you sleep. Your first steps signal the first of many more to come and from that moment on, I will forever be chasing in your footsteps as you grow up and away from me.

How I wish I could keep you in this moment forever – always my baby, always little and always so joyful, always untainted by the world, always unscarred by the challenges and rejections that life has in store for you and everyone else.

But I know I can’t, I have to let you go. All I can do is to prepare you for the road ahead, hold your tiny hand in mine until you are ready to walk on your own, and then let you find your own way. That’s the best present that I can give to you as your mother.

Right now, I am your favourite person. Every evening, I look forward to coming home and calling for you, and hearing the series of loud piak piak piak that signals your arrival at the door. Your excitement at seeing your big brother and me home is so infectious and so amazing to watch – you love to sit on your butt and bounce up and down. And then I’d step in and there you’ll be, at my feet and tugging at legs, asking to be carried. And once you are in my arms, you’d gaze upon our little world, as if to say that everything is right, now.

The other morning, you woke up earlier than I did. Oh heck, you wake up earlier than I do every morning. Anyway, the other morning, you were sitting there grumbling about being the only one awake when you caught sight of me sneaking a look at you. Your face broke out into the biggest grin and you immediately leaned over to give me the sweetest open-mouthed kiss with an exuberant “mmmmm”. And then you did it again.

Oh you just know how to melt my heart.

So, a couple more weeks till you turn one. We’ll be celebrating, loudly and joyfully. For you, my darling Zac, are turning ONE!

It’s going to be one helluva ride, my littlest man.

11 months of Zac

Love you to the moon and back,
Mama

Letters to, Zac

9 and 10 months of Zac

yannisms

Dear Zac,

How odd! Just as I was starting to pen this letter to you, you woke up and started bawling. It’s almost as if you knew. Well. I wouldn’t put it past you actually, you and your brother both. Every time your papa and I make a secret pact to do something together after your bedtimes, one of you would do something to delay bedtime. Like refusing to sleep. Or cry and wake up. We wouldn’t even talk about our plans, instead, we would exchange knowing glances but you guys just know.

Anyhow. Papa is off soothing you now so I shall continue slouching in the sofa and typing this.

Now. As you can tell from the header, this is a combined letter. Terrible, isn’t it? The thing is, I have no excuse. Other than that I am massively exhausted from work and the nightwakings (thanks to you). Words come up empty. I could not write, there was this huge mental block standing in my way. So here we are today. But it’s all good.

I cannot believe that you, my little squishy pie, is all of 10 months now. WHAT DID THE TIME GO?! Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was inhaling in the breathy newborn scent of your tiny being? Why are you suddenly this funny and adorable product of a garden gnome and a potato?

And you are funny! You are at the age where you are actively communicating to us now. Whether it is to express your displeasure at your brother snatching your toy away (your face crumples and you bawl) or to show your joy at having me back in the evenings (you sit and bounce on your cute little butt while flapping your arms vigorously) or to get me to hurry up and feed you your favourite yogurt (again that bouncing on your butt thing with impatient “EH EH EHHHHHH”).

Oddly enough, your favourite book is this Winnie the Pooh board book that I had carelessly tossed into our shopping cart at the supermarket a couple of years back, out of nostalgia (I used to love Pooh so much). It’s an action book that involves some pointing, bouncing and stretching. And you LOVE it. L-O-V-E. You now lift my hand up to point at the Pooh, flap your arms excitedly when it’s time to bounce and can pull yourself up onto your feet with my help when I tell you to stretch to the sky. And then you’d turn to look at me with this “HOLY CRAP WOW” face.

The other day, I came home during lunch to help por por fix the remote control. You were lying on the mattress, drinking your milk. You didn’t pause when you caught sight of me, but you looked at me and tapped my hand with yours. Once you were done though, you launched yourself at me and leaned into my face with your mouth wide open. It took me a split second before I realised that you wanted to kiss me on the mouth! And then you did it again. And again! I love baby open-mouthed kisses.

Also, this shows how much you love your food. You. Love. Food. You eat so much and are always asking for more. And you eat practically everything. I love seeing you wipe out your tray every evening. It could be creamy broccoli pasta or meatball pasta or pan fried salmon or toast soldiers. No worries, everything gets wiped out eventually.

(So your father’s son.)

On the flip side, you think that everything is food, from the soil in the flower pot to the cats’ litter.

You are also a pro at crawling now, although you don’t do it with as much fervour as your brother did. But you do it so very fast. Some days, I would turn for a heartbeat and then you were gone. There are also times when I would find you in the room, in front of the bookshelf and flipping a book. Oh, you have destroyed a book or two, but I have to say that you are pretty good at flipping pages. You have no idea just how much that makes my nerd mama’s heart melt. I hope you will learn to love and appreciate the beauty of words.

You’ve also started cruising (!!!) and you are constantly lunging for something. This evening, it was my dinner (I was sitting at the coffee table). Other times, you’d be grabbing my phone. And all of a sudden, I see that you are not holding on to any surface and standing up on your own. As quick as that moment began, it was over in a flash and you plopped down on your diapered butt, so gleeful.

Look, bubba, which part of “TOO FAST” do you not get? Did you not receive the memo that said you need to remain mama’s baby for a whole lot longer?

Oh and guess what is your first spoken word? That’s right buddy, it’s MA. Atta boy! And for the record, I am pretty sure you are referring to me and not to food (“mum mum” MY ASS CAN) or any other riff raff person. I am still your favourite person although it’s a close fight among your por por, papa and gor gor for second place.

Your papa and I were just remarking one morning that it feels like a shock to know that you are already 10 months old. Maybe it’s a second-born thing but we feel like we haven’t really enjoyed your babyhood properly. I feel slightly panicky at the thought of you turning one. You can’t, you simply cannot. I refuse to have a toddler in my household. WHERE IS MY BABY?

Sigh.

I love you so much, my littlest man. Every day, I am thankful for you, thankful that I wished and hoped for another child of my own, thankful that you came along the way you did, thankful for the way you complete our family.

We may not have any money, we may not live in a swanky condo with a fancy view, we may eat simple meals. But you are worth more than anything money can buy.

We love you to the moon and back, bubba, and we will always have your back.

Love,
Mama

Letters to, Zac

Eight months of Zac

yannisms

Dear Zac,

Happy eight months young! And wahey, mama is actually on time with this post. But seriously, bubba, what’s up with you growing so fast? I was just telling your papa that I cannot believe we are already at eight months.

This month has been pretty amazing for you. We have witnessed so many moments of you doing big awesome things, and I cannot recall just how many times I thought to myself, I need to include this in the post.

For starters, you actually started crawling. Like, belly crawling proper. It’s pretty cool because your brother would NOT crawl despite us tempting him with all sorts of things, until he was nine months old. He would kind of roll his way around like a fat sausage. But you, on the other hand, are pretty motivated by material things. We’d put something you want – a toy, our phones – in front of you and you’d drag your body determinedly towards it. You don’t do it for fun though, it’s almost as if you don’t know that you are now certified mobile.

It probably stems from the fact you managed to pull yourself up to a sitting position from lying down. It’s really cute, actually, the way you do it. You’d go into the downward dog position and then somehow shuffle your limbs until you can sort of flop sideways onto your bum. It’s just too damn cute seeing that little butt in the air and those delicious thighs standing up.

You are fast becoming a chatty one and your squawking soliloquy usually takes place in the car. One day, you started babbling in the car. And then it happened again, the next day. And then the day after. It’s a good thing, because it means you have stopped crying in the car seat! Fist bump! You have no idea how much of a relief it is to drive in absolute peace.

There are times when I wonder if you are not given as much attention as your brother. I really try, my squishy one, I do. I treasure the moments we have in the mornings, just you and me. I hate that I have to rush to work and cut short those times when you are smiling sweetly at me and babbling in your breathy baby voice. I love to haul you into my arms and squeeze you tight, even though you usually try to wriggle your way out.

My favourite way of spending time with you, however, is when you are snug against my chest in the wrap. I love baby wearing you. I love looking down at you and seeing you stare up at me. I love it when you snuggle against me as you snooze. I love that I can simply tilt my head to give you a big smooshy kiss just like that.

(I think your papa feels the same way, I have to fight him off during the weekends because he is absolutely insistent on baby wearing you too. Hah!)

Okay bubs, mama’s gotta go. You have been ill for the past week or so, you and your brother have been taking turns spiking strange fevers that disappear in the day. I didn’t sleep well last night because you didn’t sleep well last night.

Dear little man of mine, remember that we will always have your back, no matter what. Love you to the moon and back.

Mama

Letters to, Zac

Seven months of Zac

yannisms

Dear Zac,

Late as usual, I know. It’s not that I don’t love you or care less about your milestones, it’s just that the time seems to fly by so much faster when mama has two littles in the house.

Every day and every evening zips past us ever so quickly. You wake up at 530am, 6am and fuss, I nurse you and then you fall back asleep. Sometimes you wake up at 7, sometimes 8. And then I watch as you roll around the bed and try to bat at the IP camera. On some mornings, you just would not let me sleep. You’d roll up right next to my face and thump your fists on my cheeks or on my body. When you see that I am finally awake and ready to play, you break into a gummy smile and kick your arms and legs like crazy.

It is the cutest thing in the world, seeing those limbs of yours move so vigorously.

And come evening, we’d all have dinner together. You, my little chubster, DEMOLISH FOOD. You are So. Good. At. It. We’ve been working on baby led weaning with you as well and you are excellent at sticking the food into your mouth and gumming everything off. Sometimes, you even cry in frustration, because WHERE DID THE FOOD GO? Oh, it’s dropped into the space between you and the high chair, bubba. And when we are just a wee bit slow in spooning the yogurt into your mouth, you get all sassy with us with that OY PAPA! cry.

Thankfully, we seem to have put all the illnesses behind us. Both you and Aidan have been well for a while now and let’s hope you stay that way. It helps that Aidan’s immunity is probably strengthened by the assaults from the bugs and he’s not falling sick as much. You are also bigger and so are your airways.

You have no clue how hard it was when you two were taking turns to fall sick. It felt like we could never catch a break and it was so exhausting, between medicating and nebulising the two of you, and heading to the paediatrician’s. And it breaks our hearts whenever we see you coughing till you turn red or having problems breathing because of a stuffy nose.

You were so little when you fell ill and yet look at you, all sturdy and strong. In fact, you put on 1kg in one month and the doctor was marvelling at your progress. I’m just glad that we have put all that behind us now. Please don’t scare your parents like that ever again, mmmkay?

Okay bubbie, I gotta go. You are crying in your sleep and papa’s gone in to soothe you. Mama’s pretty tired from all those night wakings (and late online shopping). I’ll go in and sleep and then you’ll wake me up, I’ll put you back to sleep and then hey, it’s 6am. And then we wake up, prepare to leave the house and then I say goodbye to you for a good 10 hours. It breaks my heart sometimes, kissing those bouncy cheeks and walking away, but mama’s gotta do what mama’s gotta do. Hopefully, I’ll eventually find a way to combine all my needs and wants and be able to spend more time with you and your brother.

In the meantime, remember that I’ll always love you, right to the moon and back.

Always,
mama

Letters to, Zac

Six months of Zac

yannisms

Dear bubba,

You just celebrated your first Christmas! Not that you know any better or care, really – life goes on for you as usual, with the exception that you had your papa, mama and big brother all to yourself for the past week.

Also, Mama is terribly late with this update but hey, it’s because we have been enjoying your company.

I have forgotten just how delightful this period of babyhood is. Six months is always such a fun time: you can sit upright, babble a lot, smile and laugh frequently and is oh-so-squishy! I love, LOVE squishing you in my arms and stealing a smell from your sweaty forehead. Seriously, someone should just bottle up baby scents and sell them. Suckers like mama would totally buy them up.

And the babbling…so adorable, especially when done in that breathy baby voice. Every morning, without fail, I will wake up to your chatter and early exercise routine of vigorous arms and legs kicking. I CANNOT ignore you, no matter how hard I try to sneak in more sleep. You won’t let me! But when I finally crack open my eyelids and take my first glimpse of you, your face will break out into the biggest, loveliest toothless smile. Tell me, how can I get angry at you?

You are a most physical child, my little bubba, and I fear that my old bones cannot keep up with you once you discover the magic of walking and running. You are constantly on the move and there is never a dull moment with you around. I’d put you on the mat while I have dinner after work and you’d be rolling around and off the mat. I guess that’s why I can’t justify purchasing an expensive (read: pretty) playmat when you don’t quite care for boundaries. You just cannot. Sit. Still. (Exactly like that ants-in-pants brother of yours. EXACTLY.)

But I must admit that you are an easy, happy baby nonetheless. I can put you in the cot or your bouncer for a short period of time and you will be contented with your toys or simply looking around. That frees me up to do things, like chores or handle your brother or work on the laptop. Maybe it’s a second-born trait? Whatever it is, thank you very much for your chill nature.

It’s pretty funny but the first thing that almost everyone says when they see you is that you have a lot of hair. And then they talk about your nom-worthy cheeks (VERY! NOM NOM NOM). And then they tell me that you look like me. And I think you do look like me too, but you have papa’s eyes (Most unfortunate, tsk, but we can’t have everything, I suppose). I also have strangers asking me if you are a girl simply because you have so much hair. What is this sexist nonsense?!

Sigh. Like I said, six months is such a loveable age. I love the coos, the gurgles, the sweet baby smells. I love how you reach out your hands to touch my face. I love how you laugh when I toss you into the air. I love the way you blow raspberries. I love the way you kick in your bouncer.

You have my heart, little garden gnome of mine, you and your brother both.

Love you to the moon and back,
Mama

Letters to, Zac

Five months of Zac

yannisms

Dear bubba,

So. Hi. I know that the letter is meant to be written to a five-month-old you but technically, you are 5.5 months old now. And for that, we can blame the weather. You see, whenever I had the time to take your monthly photo during the weekend, it started to rain. We know that rainy days don’t make for good pictures because the light is all meh. So your papa and I kinda procrastinated.

But better late than never, no?

Can I just say that you are such a little darling at five months old? I never thought I could adore a baby as much as I adore your brother but along came you and you stole my heart completely all over again.

All that they say about your heart growing bigger? So damn true.

You, my little bubba, are such a happy little lark. You always reserve the biggest and gummiest grins for your papa, mama and gor gor. We hardly hear you cry and when you do, it’s pretty easy to figure out why – you are either sleepy or hungry. No matter how tired I am after a long day at work, you never fail to light up my day, whether you are simply sitting in your bouncer and kicking your chubby legs vigorously, or when you gleefully kick out in your bath tub.

You’ve also learnt to flip and it’s so fun to see you turn from your back to your tummy, prop yourself up on your arms (AKA cobra pose) and stare at us. That face of yours! Man, you can probably get away with ANYTHING. It’s like, TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT, IT’S YOURS. Unfortunately, you also fell off the bed one morning because of this flipping business. You somehow flipped, shuffled around (SHUFFLED?! Isn’t it too early for that?) and fell off. Let’s just chalk it up as a one-off incident, mmmkay?

These days, you and Aidan are starting to interact and it’s oh so cute to watch. Aidan would fetch you a toy to play with when you are in the bouncer, or he would rattle a toy to amuse you because you are fussing and “mummy eating dinner”. He also loves to help me bathe you, scooping water in his plastic cups over your Buddha belly. When I take him out of his car seat, he would run over to your side of the car just to “see Zac”. And when I started playing peekaboo with you, he would join in, shouting “PEEKABOOOOOOO!” so loudly he could wake the dead. You would stare at him in such wonder.

And then there was this one day, this magic moment. I was nursing you on the sofa and he drifted close to us. All of a sudden, he leaned in, gave you a peck on the head, and said, “I love you, Zac.”

Like I said, MAGIC.

You know, I’ve always wanted to have a second child but I have never thought about how he or she may be like. When I knew that I was pregnant with you, I was so absolutely thrilled because I thought I would have to jump through a thousand and one hoops just to have a child, the way I did before. And now that you are here, it’s like you fit in so perfectly.

Oh, sorry to be off topic, but did I mention your cheeks? Those droopy sacs of skin that could probably hold a winter’s worth of nuts? OH. MY. GOD. I love to squish them. I love to kiss them.

What the heck. I just love you. LURRRRRRVE YOU. To the moon and back, always. Remember that. We will always have your back.

Love always,
mama