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Three Months… in Numbers!

Mark, 12 Weeks and One Day
Mark, 12 Weeks and One Day

On January 12, 2013, Mark is turning three months. The past few weeks have been a steep learning curve for us, new parents, but we’ve taken things in stride and Mark rewards us with big smiles and cuddles. Little by little, we are taming Baby Dragon and we are becoming a team of three.

Becoming a mommy is quite an adjustment but it’s an interesting and rewarding adventure—as cliché as it sounds. As Mark is opening up to the outside world and observing everything with his Canadian-Chinese-French eyes, I can’t help feeling proud. Feng and I made a kid, a new human being! How amazing is that?

I don’t check baby’s development milestones charts religiously since 1) It won’t make him learn any faster 2) He looks just fine and on track for his age 3) I’m not going to start stressing out about a few XX-weeks-old baby “academic achievements.”

Mark did gain weight and he now has little chubby cheeks. He grew quite a lot too judging by his clothes. His movements are more coordinated and he can comfort himself for a little while. He smiles a lot, laughs, and, generally speaking, he is very expressive. He has better muscle tone and can hold and turn his head very well. He has a strong grip too—when he holds my fingers, he doesn’t let go easily! And he looks like a little hippie with his long hair. I should cut it a bit but I figure it keeps it warm for now (plus let’s face it, I like the hippie look!).

So after month one and month two, here is month three… in numbers!

Percentage of time Mark actually manages to put his fingers in his mouth: 50%. Well, it may seem like an easy task—bring fingers to mouth, add saliva, lick and enjoy—but for a baby, it’s not. Ah, the things you learn…!

Numbers of words in Mark’s vocabulary: Three. There is “awaaa,” “aheu” and “maw.” A team of highly skilled translators is on it—I’m sure it’s very deep and philosophical.

Number of bags of clothes that are too small: One large Roots plastic bag. Ungrateful brat is growing faster than I can find bargain clothes. Oh, and he doesn’t fit in the bathroom sink anymore, we have to use a proper baby bathtub. Damn, the sink was so practical!

Numbers of movies Mark watched with us: A lot during the holiday season. And weird movies too, like Killer Joe, Cosmopolis (do NOT watch it, waste of time!) or Arbitrage. He didn’t seem to mind though, although he always cries when Fox News Channel is on—he doesn’t seem to like the conservative channel (neither do I!).

Numbers of pictures taken: I’m ashamed to check my “pictures” folder but a lot, as in “need-to-charge-the-damn-camera-again” a lot. What? I’m a proud mom!

Number of Happy New Year kisses received: One from mommy and one from daddy, plus tons of virtual ones from family and friends. However, Mark is showing his Asian side—he is not a huge fan of kisses.

Number of times I dangle him in front of the webcam for my parents: At least once a week. He is very curious and stares at the screen when my mother sings French lullabies.

Number of trips taken to the mall: A lot, since it’s a bit cold to stay outside for long. Mark is usually in the sling and loves looking around. But he pretends he is sleeping when random strangers coo over him (or make dumb comments…).

Number of snow storms witnessed: Three big snow storms in December. Like a true Canadian, Mark enjoys watching snowflakes dancing in the wind. But he is absolutely no help shovelling the driveway. Note to self—train him.

Number of times Mark pukes on daddy: At least once a day. And every time I see the white spit-up on our clothes, I can’t help thinking of the “hair gel” scene in the movie There is Something About Mary…!

Number of times Mark peed on me: Zero this month! I’m pretty sure I have just jinxed it though. Or maybe I finally mastered diaper changing. It goes like this. “Okay Mark, don’t pee on me, alright?” [Unfasten diaper BUT leave the little penis covered. Grab wipe and new diaper.] “Mark, no peeing, okay honey?” [Fasten new diaper in less than two seconds. Sigh with relief.] “Good job Mark!”

Number of times we say “Good job, Mark!”: Every time he burbs, finishes a bottle or has a big poop. Yes, I know, we have to stop congratulating him on these “achievements” before his teen years!

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French woman in English Canada.

Exploring the world with my camera since 1999, translating sentences for a living, writing stories that may or may not get attention.

Firm believer that nobody is normal... and it’s better this way.

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