Lippin' out You know how they say that your life just flashes before your eyes, when you're in an accident or something. Well, my entire life dosn't flash before my eyes when Hannes gives me the lip. However, HIS entire life flashes before my eyes when I see it. Giving the lip is the 2-second calm before the storm.
I think adults should use that more often, too. It's so honest.
"So, Risto, what do you think of the proposal?"
[lip]
"OK, forget it then, it was just a proposal, we'll think of something new. OK? Good, good."
Hi, ho, it's off to work we go Or, not we, I. It's off to work I go. After four weeks of 100 percent domestic life, it was interesting to sit in three back-to-back meetings from 9 to 12. I really, seriously, question our way of life, and the constant pursuit of wealth, I guess. Oh well, I won't bore you with that. You've got your own issues, I am sure. Heh.
But since I am but a poor man's poor man and I need to work, it feels really good to have been at home and having established a real contact with Hannes. I don't know what he thinks about it, but I feel like I really know him.
I know what makes him laugh, and how to dress him so he doesn't get upset (leave the little hat as the last item), what he sounds like when he's just about to fall asleep, how he shakes his just-a-tad-too-heavy-for-his-body head and looks around curiously, and how he looks at Jessica after he's had a little milk.
And I still get to get up at 5.25 if Hannes wakes up. He's got a lock on that slot in my calendar.
Hot potato It was a big weekend for all of us. For one, Saturday was Hannes's 4-month-birthday. So Jessica, Hannes and I huddled up around the laptop and looked at old photos of Hannes. "Those were the days," Hannes said. Well, no, Hannes said, "eeeeeaaaaaaahhheeaaaawwwww" but I could tell by the look on his face.
To celebrate his four glorious months on Planet Earth, and our four educating months as parents, we cooked a potato. I know, that may sound like Finland is a third world country, but it's really not that bad. What made that particular potato special was the fact that it was the first ever potato to go down Hannes's throat.
I think we can officially call Hannes a "Big Boy" now. Big boys eat potatoes.
Who's your Daddy? Communicating with Hannes is an art form. And like with any form of art, you either get it, or you don't. And if you don't, you end up feeling stupid while those who get it seem to enjoy it tremendously.
Jessica gets it. She is so on the same wavelength with Hannes that to me, they seem to be talking.
I am not saying that I don't get it because I do. (Hannes is already bilingual, it seems). I can tell when he's bored because he is worming in his baby sitter and basically yelling something that sounds like a command. I hear him say, "Get me out of this baby sitter, right now." You know, I have written about it before.
Thsi morning I got up to do something. Hannes was in our bed because Jessica had just fed him. And when I got back, Hannes yelled something that sounded like "POW!" Jessica interpreted it as "pappa." Smart kid.
A second later, he said, "AEEEW!" which naturally is Hannesian for "äiti" which is Finnish for "mother."
So, here we are, Pow, Aew and Hannes. All is well.
Like father, like son Unfortunately, in this case, that means that Hannes has also caught a cold. His first. The upside of it all is that he's as happy as before, and since it's his first cold and he's not supposed to be doing anything else, he's not trying to fake it and make it sound even worse. The downside is of course, that he's coughing and sneezing a lot. Not to mention that he snores.
He also seems to have a slight habit of whining. And I mean that in the most concrete meaning of the word. When I pick him up and we walk around the apartment, Hannes leans against my shoulder and moans and whines, "aaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeaaaaaaeeeeeeeee", like .... a hoarse wolf.
The antidote to that is me singing "Heartbreak Hotel."
Splitting hairs When I was a kid, I always thought people who started their stories by saying, "when I was a kid" always talked a little too long. They were never as funny as they thought and their stories always had some sort of a lesson in it. And here I am "when I was kid"ing away. Who am I kidding? I'm probably just as boring as they were. Gotta ask my godson Jesse next time we meet.
Anyway, I was about to say that I have never had a big life vision, not even when I was a kid. When other guys always seemed to know exactly what the love of their lives would look like, I never had any image of it. Nor did I see my dream house, car, job, boss... And you can bet your cute little behind that I never had any mental images of my future children.
How could I? I couldn't even picture their mother.
Oh well. Had I had an image of my son, there is one thing Hannes has that I most definitely wouldn't have dreamt of. Curly hair.
Except for that one bald spot, the size of my palm, in the back. But I assume that's only temporary.
Sick and tired I have a cold. And I am one of those hyperactive people that are always doing stuff, never sitting still. Unless the doing requires sitting still. Like reading. Although, that can be done lying down, too.
Anyway, I am not feeling too hyperactive today, I think I have a little fever.
When I was sick as a kid, and would have to stay at home, my Dad always had the same recipe: bananas, orange soda, some candy, TV and a Donald Duck comic book. It worked every time. It's a concept I will definitely pass on to the next generation, that's for sure.
Anyway, I have my soda, candy and D. Duck comic book by the sofa, so you know where you'll find me. The good news is that Hannes will get a new Donald Duck comic tomorrow. He subscribes to it, you see.
Blood, sweat and tears, part III: blood When Jessica was feeling her worst a few weeks ago, she would quite often look at Hannes and think that she didn't love him enough. That's what she told me. She would be weeping, and saying, "I just don't care enough about him, every other Mom loves her baby more than I do." And I would almost always reply the same way: "I am sure that if Hannes were to cut himself and bleed, you would probably give anything to make the bleeding stop, right?"
And she would nod.
"That's what I call love," I would say.
We had this conversation a couple of times, and each time we just concluded how lucky we were for not having seen Hannes's blood anywhere yet. Blood seems always so serious. And the funny thing is, we know that he will hurt himself sooner or later, and that he will bleed.
That's why we have the Mickey Mouse bandaid. Except that they're mine.
Blood, sweat and tears, part II: tears I have never seen Hannes cry. Sure, he screams and he can shake his whole 7-kilo body in a way that I know he's upset or angry or maybe even sad. But I have never seen him cry so that there have been tears on his cheeks. I thought I saw a tear once, but that was a few weeks back and since it hasn't happened since, I am pretty sure I imagined the whole thing.
Not that I want him to cry. It is just one of these things you (I) hardly ever even think about, and when you start thinking about it, you become almost obsessed by it.
The only time Hannes has been close to really crying is when he fights against falling asleep. At first I didn't understand it at all - why would he fight it? - and then I realize that I am exactly the same. I have never enjoyed sleeping just for its own sake, I have never been a hobby sleeper, like some of my friends. I guess I just don't wanna miss a thing.
Blood, sweat and tears, part I: sweat I am sitting by the kitchen table, with Hannes in his baby sitter, on the table, right next to my laptop. (Don't tell Jessica, she is very safety-oriented, in a Swedish way, and would certainly be very worried about this setup is she saw it. She's a sleep now).
Anyway, Hannes is looking at me from his chair, and sometimes he yells (yes, yells!) something to get my attention. And then I turn to him and I kiss his feet. And while I kiss his feet, I realize two things
One) He should get changed. I know that sweet smell. nd I think that I just love that smell. I must be nuts.
Two) His feet are sweaty. I have never seen Hannes sweat, so I am a little surprised. His feet must be the only place he sweats at (The feet I just kissed).
I will get back to my research and report about my findings. Excuse me, I have to stick my nose into Hannes's armpit.
