Mimi had her check-up at the local health centre that day. Not only had her jaundice gone, she had gained weight substantially – more than three times the average for a breastfed baby.
V had wished me and sent me a sweet car earlier but my babies made my day.
Mimi has gone from being the angel baby to the baby with gas. One could still say she is angelic because really Benji didn’t let us put him down for a minute and she, god bless and fingers crossed, lets us sleep through the night. Then, she caught a cold and has been snorting and breathing heavily and not sure if it’s because of that but she’s been gagging and gasping when feeding. Thanks to her chewiness, I had a blister on my boob which thankfully went off after a while. She’s been on antibiotics for her cold for two weeks and still has it. I’m trying not to panic and get into a funk like last time but to take it a day at a time.
Benji has got over his upsettedness at Mimi wailing and now tries to outshout her. Unfortunately, she seems to be outgrowing her obliviousness to loud noises and now gets upset but his shrieking. So sadly I have to keep him away from her more which means I see him less too. He is having a whale of a time with my mom though and sprouted two new teeth. He is also a fan of the Kolaveri song – if we sing it, he starts dancing, rather obscenely, swinging his arms and going low down, doing a grind of sorts. Every day, he reminds me he is his father’s son.
I am loving the girliness of dressing Mimi. Like with Benji, her clothes are largely hand-me-downs and gifts. But what cute hand-me-downs. Little pink suits and girlie dresses – the latter wasted because it’s too cold for them right now. But I can’t resist dressing her up and taking a picture anyway. I am enthralled at the sight of her in pink and then check myself. I realise I like her in pink because yes, I like pink, but also, because if I’m honest, she looks like a girl if she’s in pink. And then I ask myself why pink should make her look like a girl. And why should it matter that she’s a girl. But it does. It goes against the feminist in me but I like marking my daughter as a girl and I like that she’s my daughter.