Impy-love
Forgive a barren old fool's rhapsodizing -- I need to write a tale of love about my boys. One of the advantages of having a new blog with no readers: you shamelessly can write things that no reader except possibly those closely related to you could possibly be interested in reading. So, on with my Impy-love. Scampy-love will come next.
How I love my Impy. My first-born, by exactly half an hour. Impy was my Baby A -- the little uterine pistol on the left who spent many months kicking and punching his way to annexing my liver.
When Impy was born, he YELLED. It surprised the hell out of me, because I had no idea he was so close to birth. I remember my first look at Impy -- hubby held him by my side in the OR, and lovingly told me to look at his eyelashes. As I'd hoped, Impy had my hubby's eyelashes -- dark and thick and long. The part of me that just wanted to gaze, lovestruck, at Impy right there had to make way for the part of me who was busy laboring with Scampy. I remember telling hubby "I have to focus." It was surreal.
As a newborn, my Impy had that little old man look. Many people commented at how wise he seemed. He was very vocal about his needs, too. Right from the start, when his brother was spending most of his time sleeping, Impy would be awake and keeping his eye on things.
In new social situations, he will still sit back and take in everyone before interacting with them. Once he gets comfortable, though, he gets incredibly energized by the give and take of the social scene. He will fight napping for hours, just to spend a little more time squawking it up with Grandmas, Grandpas, Uncles, Aunts and friends. He loves to invent games, such as the classic Pick Up my Toy(R) and the Impy House of Fun Screech at Grandpa to Try to Startle Him(R).
We're learning that Impy is fearless with Xtreme baby feats such as climbing, walking with his sports car, etc. Last weekend we had to purchase a crib tent, because the child has begun hooking his arms over the crib sides and pulling up both legs. If he were a little taller, he would undoubtedly topple right out. Yikes.
It looks as if he may not be so fearless with new foods, much to his father's dismay. He seems to have some very strong opinions about what he likes and what he doesn't. Textures, especially, seem to meet with his distaste. We're hoping that will change, and that he has not inherited my weird food aversions and affinity for processed crap.
My Impy has the cutest little crooked smile. It will flash on in an instant, dimples, pointy chin and all. His eyes just sparkle with joy and mischief, and he sometimes gets so excited that he will pant (especially when he has a cold). When he feels that way, he will crawl over with such exuberance that his gait has as much upward movement as forward momentum. Early on, he had an unruly shock of mohawk hair. Now, he looks more alterna-rocker, with silky, straight hair in front that's almost long enough to fall into his eyes.
Impy isn't possessive. His brother often takes things from him, and more often than not, he'll blithely move onto something else. When he takes something from his brother, one gets the sense that he doesn't want the object itself -- he just finds the getting hilarious. I've seen him bait Scampy, too, by holding something tantalizingly close to his brother. The child has initiative. Channeling said initiative ought to be fun.
On the relatively rare occasions that he's upset, he will sometimes stick out his lower lip far enough that it is in danger from the proverbial bird. When he was a newborn, his chin would even tremble. Awwww. His cry is insistent, very much like my kitty's. If you pick him up, it stops as quickly as it started. He'll wrap his little arms around your neck so tightly that you could probably let go and he'd still be attached -- a hands-free baby.
No epistle about Impy would be complete without mentioning how he loves to bounce. Oh, how he loves it. Hubby tells the story of going to his company picnic, where Impy wore out four healthy adults by bouncing on their laps until their arms gave out. He was trying to stand almost from birth, doubtless because he wanted to make with the bouncing.
If Impy were an element, he'd be liquid mercury. If he were a bird, he'd be a sparrow, or possibly a hummingbird; an animal, maybe a Capuchin monkey. If he were a drink, he'd be something fizzy. That Impy, how I adore him.
How I love my Impy. My first-born, by exactly half an hour. Impy was my Baby A -- the little uterine pistol on the left who spent many months kicking and punching his way to annexing my liver.
When Impy was born, he YELLED. It surprised the hell out of me, because I had no idea he was so close to birth. I remember my first look at Impy -- hubby held him by my side in the OR, and lovingly told me to look at his eyelashes. As I'd hoped, Impy had my hubby's eyelashes -- dark and thick and long. The part of me that just wanted to gaze, lovestruck, at Impy right there had to make way for the part of me who was busy laboring with Scampy. I remember telling hubby "I have to focus." It was surreal.
As a newborn, my Impy had that little old man look. Many people commented at how wise he seemed. He was very vocal about his needs, too. Right from the start, when his brother was spending most of his time sleeping, Impy would be awake and keeping his eye on things.
In new social situations, he will still sit back and take in everyone before interacting with them. Once he gets comfortable, though, he gets incredibly energized by the give and take of the social scene. He will fight napping for hours, just to spend a little more time squawking it up with Grandmas, Grandpas, Uncles, Aunts and friends. He loves to invent games, such as the classic Pick Up my Toy(R) and the Impy House of Fun Screech at Grandpa to Try to Startle Him(R).
We're learning that Impy is fearless with Xtreme baby feats such as climbing, walking with his sports car, etc. Last weekend we had to purchase a crib tent, because the child has begun hooking his arms over the crib sides and pulling up both legs. If he were a little taller, he would undoubtedly topple right out. Yikes.
It looks as if he may not be so fearless with new foods, much to his father's dismay. He seems to have some very strong opinions about what he likes and what he doesn't. Textures, especially, seem to meet with his distaste. We're hoping that will change, and that he has not inherited my weird food aversions and affinity for processed crap.
My Impy has the cutest little crooked smile. It will flash on in an instant, dimples, pointy chin and all. His eyes just sparkle with joy and mischief, and he sometimes gets so excited that he will pant (especially when he has a cold). When he feels that way, he will crawl over with such exuberance that his gait has as much upward movement as forward momentum. Early on, he had an unruly shock of mohawk hair. Now, he looks more alterna-rocker, with silky, straight hair in front that's almost long enough to fall into his eyes.
Impy isn't possessive. His brother often takes things from him, and more often than not, he'll blithely move onto something else. When he takes something from his brother, one gets the sense that he doesn't want the object itself -- he just finds the getting hilarious. I've seen him bait Scampy, too, by holding something tantalizingly close to his brother. The child has initiative. Channeling said initiative ought to be fun.
On the relatively rare occasions that he's upset, he will sometimes stick out his lower lip far enough that it is in danger from the proverbial bird. When he was a newborn, his chin would even tremble. Awwww. His cry is insistent, very much like my kitty's. If you pick him up, it stops as quickly as it started. He'll wrap his little arms around your neck so tightly that you could probably let go and he'd still be attached -- a hands-free baby.
No epistle about Impy would be complete without mentioning how he loves to bounce. Oh, how he loves it. Hubby tells the story of going to his company picnic, where Impy wore out four healthy adults by bouncing on their laps until their arms gave out. He was trying to stand almost from birth, doubtless because he wanted to make with the bouncing.
If Impy were an element, he'd be liquid mercury. If he were a bird, he'd be a sparrow, or possibly a hummingbird; an animal, maybe a Capuchin monkey. If he were a drink, he'd be something fizzy. That Impy, how I adore him.
posted by E. at 2:34 AM
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