Filed under: The Baby Diaries | Tags: Alps, carollers, Christmas, France, French, infant, mulled wine, Pere Noel, Santa Claus, sprite, vin chaud
“There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.” Erma Bombeck
When my first nephew was a child, I remember thinking that Christmas was definitely for children. He “oohed” and “aahed” at the Christmas lights, the decorations, the colourfully wrapped packages, and his excitement for everything was so palpable that it became infectious for us grownups, making our Christmas truly joyous and warm-hearted.
Now I have a child of my own. And I’m in the French Alps, which is an idyllic setting for the holidays. It’s snowing here as I write, and the chalets everywhere are emitting tufts of smoke from their chimneys. There are Christmas lights along the streets, and a huge Christmas tree in the village square. Moreover, there are all sorts of activities in honour of the Christmas season: Pere Noel (Santa Claus), will pass through the village on a sleigh Christmas Eve and Christmas day; the local community centre hosts animated Christmas films most evenings; there are carollers and little musical concerts with flutes and violins and even accordions; snow “sprites” will ski down the slopes all day Christmas Eve; there is a torchlight ski with the children from the local school skiing in decorative formations down the slopes; there are Christmas story readings at the local bibliotheque (library); and, of course, Midnight Masses in every chapel and church that dots the countryside. Additionally, each of these celebrations provides the additional luxury of vin chaud (hot wine) and chocolat chaud (hot cocoa), courtesy of our local mairie’s office (and our various habitation taxes – fees we pay to live in the province). I intend to take my son to most of these events, even if he can’t quite grasp what is happening. My hope is that some part of his brain will register the festivities, the gathering of people in song, music and celebration, and it will begin his love affair with this season of the heart. At home, I find myself singing the classic Christmas songs to him, such as “Jingle Bells” and “White Christmas” in anticipation for his understanding the pleasure of this season.
But I may be optimistic. Just short of nine-months-old, my wee one is able to pick up a toy and throw it, but not to crawl over and grab it, so I’m not sure if his sensory register is sophisticated enough to make any connections between the specific time of year and the celebration. He’s also eating a mushed up version of Christmas dinner, that doesn’t quite give the same pleasure as loading one’s plate full of gorgeous, especially tasty offerings…ah well, it’s an excuse to attend the festivities and to eat to my heart’s content!
Filed under: The Baby Diaries | Tags: baby POV, baby sitting up, dust, Perspective, POV of baby, six month old baby
Some people see the glass half full. Others see it half empty. I see a glass that’s twice as big as it needs to be. George Carlin
I’ve often felt sorry for my son not having much perspective on things. He’s always carried, lying prone in his cot, or staring at the ceiling. He’s not been able to sit up by himself till now, and propping him up has often led to his slumping to one side or the other like an old drunk. So, when I have had to put him down, I lay him on the floor, where he can only look to his right, his left, and at the ceiling. I’ve purchased playthings that dangle over him so that he can reach up for them, but it’s a rather dull perspective even so. I lie down next to him to see what he sees and am left thinking that I should clean under my couch more…
But, now he’s sitting up on his own! And for the first time in six months, I can take a shower without feeling guilty. Before I had, maybe, four minutes to bathe before he’d cry, and five minutes if I put him in a soft seat just outside the shower and sang to him. I get it. Life can be rather dull when you’re trapped in a body that doesn’t move as and when you want it to. Now, however, I can leave him for an entire fifteen minutes or so if I put some toys and books within his reach. I’ll be able to shave my legs properly again. And I don’t have to lie down and worry about vacuuming in the corners anymore.
Once they begin sitting up by themselves, the experts on various web sites instruct us parents to begin putting things out of the child’s reach. This encourages them to crawl, they say. I can see their point, but I just don’t have the heart to make him yearn for more just yet. I think I’ll let him feel chuffed with himself for having this new point-of-view…
Filed under: The Baby Diaries | Tags: Diptheria, France, HIB, kids in France, Polio, Tetanus, vaccination, Vaccines, Whooping Cough
Vaccines are the tugboats of preventive health. William Foege
Dearest son,
You had your booster immunizations yesterday – five at once – Diptheria, Whooping Cough, Polio, Tetanus, and something called HIB…you were stellar at the doctor’s office, never crying, not when the doctor examined you, placed you on your front, poked and prodded you for your six-month check up (as you’re six months next week) and then gave you your injection. Your father and I had screwed up and placed the patch that would serve to numb the area that you’re ostensibly injected, in the wrong place, so you had to take it “cold” and, as mentioned, other than letting out a bit of a protest (you seem to be chatting and speaking a lot recently, so it seemed more like an ‘awww…”). Luckily, you’ve got really pudgy, lovely big thighs and didn’t seem too bothered. On the way home, you were chuckling and smiling, then suddenly you started crying, then you passed out asleep. The rest of the day you were your normal cheerful self, sleeping, eating, giggling and smiling and you didn’t have a temperature…
But today you’ve been out of sorts – fussy, hard to settle, obviously uncomfortable, not eating as much as you normally do, making us think its affecting you a day later…I went to get my haircut in town (and also got a fresh bouquet of flowers) and you were, according to your father, difficult and didn’t fall asleep for the entire time I was out (and even as you were asleep when I came home). You did watch a few cartoons in earnest and tracked and grabbed your Brio classic bell/cage ball (very impressive) and played with your over-the-head jungle gym, and laughed when I was dancing for you to THE KILLERS. That said, we’ll take your temperature tomorrow and hope that you’re your normal wonderful self. If there’s a temperature, I’ll likely want to take you to the hospital (in Sallanches, where you were born) and let them call me paranoid.
Much love,
Mom
Victoria Jelinek 