Splintered Reflections

I am very proud to announce two new beautiful additions to our little family.  Yes, two.  It really has been quite a shock for us all.

Sophie and Sam recently arrived through the threshold of our little “Pod of Happiness” here in Villeneuve.

I was against going for a larger family initially, on the basis that although older siblings do “look out” for younger ones, they do not “parent” them, and there is a world of difference between the two.  I have always felt that my two little angels pretty much “zap” all of my emotional, mental and physical energy reserves and that aiming for a third child would mean finding our little family of four wandering off-course into a treacherous stretch of water often known as “Shitloads Of Stress That We Simply Don’t Need”.

However, “relations” have been at an all time high lately (my partner, The Utility, and I both now look like this), and recent exhausted and occasionally boozed-fuelled fumblings and a subsequent record-breaking gestation period have resulted in the dawning of another era of sleepless nights, nappies and regurgitated milk curds.

Feeling very much like a Veteran of Newborns, particularly after the past two years and eight months of squeezing out puppies like they were going out of fashion (come to think of it, tiny dogs are THE fashion), I have been delegating little tasks to Sophie and Sam’s older siblings, for the following reasons:

• To teach them a thing or two about parenthood
• To instill in them the importance of taking precautions, unlike their ignorant parents during their firstborn’s conception.  (Hey, c’mon, it was a great time; falling in love in London, “Hyde Park Calling”, July 2006; a time for personal experimentation…and no, I didn’t mean to drop that guy’s drugs all over our “Rug of Love”…)

My daughter has already shown some amazing maternal instincts and a wonderful style of parenting.  She is favouring the Continuum Concept and will not be parted from little Sophie.

I worry more about my son’s skills as co-parent of Sam, however, since discovering him holding him by the ankles and swinging him around above his head.  I am ashamed to admit, maybe due to tiredness after the birth (or possible baby blues once more?), I found myself being less concerned about Sam’s bruising and more concerned about the scratches on our new Plasma TV).  I questioned my son about it, about why he felt that violence was the answer.  We went through the “Naughty Step” technique (difficult when living in a single-floor apartment) and the importance of removing yourself from a situation before it has a chance to escalate.  My son took it all on board and went in search of some “time-out”, in the form of his favourite yellow hard hat, his sister’s pink party dress and some ABBA.  He is so very YMCA.

We are all extremely happy about this exciting new phase in our no-so-little family’s life.  Thank you to all our lovely friends and family for all of your good wishes so far.

Please do stop by for a hold and a cuddle…and any offers of babysitting are greatly appreciated.