Tag Archives: nephew

Babies Say the Cutest Things

My nephew Jack is speaking endlessly. He has been talking a while but only lately has he demonstrated a repertoire of words. He now forms sentences and seeks to learn new words at every opportunity. He points at items and calls their name. “Dada,” he shouts, pointing to my brother. “Dog”. “TeeVee,” is one of his favourites, which he enjoys following a request for “toast”.

On one of his customary rambles about the kitchen, he randomly stopped and pointed above the door. “Cock,” he cried. He resumed his stroll.

A day or two later, he visited his grandparents. In his usual independent manner, he got out of the car, walked up the driveway and waited for the halldoor to open. He walked into the kitchen, expecting the usual fuss he is guaranteed to receive from his grandparents.

He pointed towards the clock on the wall. “Grandad’s cock.”

One Door Opens, Another Closes

Over Christmas, my one year old nephew was at my family home, doing his usual routine of exploring the kitchen under the watchful eye of his parents. He wobbled towards the kitchen door, placed his weight on it and wailed loudly; making it obvious he wished to leave our company. I followed him towards the door.

“Let me teach you something, Jack.”

I picked the little man up in my arms, placed his right hand on the door handle and pulled him downwards. I held onto him, stepped back, knowing well he would not let go of the door handle. The door swung open.

“And that, Jack, is how we open doors.”

Some time later, Jack again wanted to leave the room. He placed both hands on the door. I watched, expecting him to scream for us to open the door. He made no noise. He stood on his tip toes to grab the door handle. He pulled it down. The door popped open. My brother, Dáire, watched in disbelief.

“Did he just open the door? Did you see that? Did you teach him that, Stephen? Fuck ya!”

“This is my Christmas gift to you. Enjoy!” I roared with laughter. “I’ll be in Dublin if you need me.”

Three months on, Jack’s ability to open doors has developed into a recreation activity. If anyone enters the room, Jack is sure to close the door behind them. Jack passes lengthy durations of time opening and closing doors as he pleases. He leaves a room and closes the door behind him, regularly falling on his ass as he does. He toddles down the corridor towards the bedrooms, taking great enjoyment of the seven doors on his journey.

During my last visit home, Jack and his parents arrived at the house around mid afternoon on Saturday following an excursion. I welcomed them at the hall door.

“How was your day?”

“We went to the park to feed the ducks,” answered my brother. “We brought Jack to the playground.”

“Does he like the playground? Did you put him in the swing or bring him down the slide?”

“No, he didn’t really enjoy the playground so much …” Dáire shook his head. “But he did enjoy opening and closing the gate to the playground.”

Baby Sitting

I took a spontaneous trip to Athlone on Friday to visit my brother, his girlfriend Melissa and Baby Jack.

Jack is growing so quickly. He has a random assortment of words. His repertoire includes:

  • Who that?
  • Baba
  • Dada
  • Hey ya

On Saturday, I held Jack while his parents cleaned the kitchen. I showed Jack the window, which he apparently loves. We danced around the kitchen with him on my shoulders. I thought I could round off the Nephew-Uncle Bonding session by showing him my juggling skills. I substituted juggling balls with over ripe apples.

Bro. also took two apples from the bowl and attempted a juggle. I informed him he wasn’t juggling properly, “merely passing the apple from one hand to the other”. I took two apples and readied myself for a performance to be rivalled by  Duffy’s circus.

I threw one of the apples in the air. It sailed for a second or so and then came down. I failed to catch it. It bounced off Jack’s head and hurtled to the floor.

“Fuck!” I roared loudly.

Jack did not stir. He felt nothing. I looked up and noticed I was in Melissa’s gaze. Melissa had seen everything.

“I bet you’re reconsidering my offer of babysitting services,” I said.

She laughed.

Too Fat to Eat Like That

For my nephew’s christening last weekend, I packed a pair of brown slacks I bought about four years ago. I overestimated my swine-flu-weight loss. The pants were skin tight; we are talking spray painted. Even Mum asked if I had anything else to wear. Imagine! I was a little self-conscious at first, but eventually didn’t give a shit.

I returned to work on Monday and swore I would take action to lose weight. “No more junk food,” I declared. I am proud to say little sugar and carbohydrate touched my lips this week, until today that is when the canteen hosted a Thanksgiving lunch. I initially stood my ground, opting for salad. When I saw the desserts on offer, I caved for some mixture of mango, biscuit and cream; apparently, titled a Syllabub.

I carried my heaving stomach to my desk to find a large tin of Cadbury’s Roses. Since we are at year end, working hard, my boss treated us. Despite my earlier gluttony, I stuffed my face with Roses. I am sad to admit these Roses were not of the floral variety. I pretty much climbed into the tin of chocolate like it were a bath and I was some unwashed bastard. I stuffed my face.

Sometimes, I disgust myself.

New Born Baby + Hangover = Not Good

As you guessed, a lot of my blog is going to be dedicated to the development of my nephew Jack.

I can’t say I’m happy that his name turns out to be the most popular boy’s name in Ireland in 2008. I’ll just have to learn more about this “unconditional love” philosophy I keep hearing about.

On Sunday – while hung-over as Bejaysis – I visited the homestead, after what I can only term a “guilt trip”. I commented how Jack is such a nice, quiet baby. Within minutes a primitive, guttural cry permeated from Jack’s mouth.

“Make it stop!” I pleaded.

The Bro investigated whether we were in wee or pooh territory.

Bro diligently removed Jack’s tiny nappy. Jack cried aloud. His tiny legs came into contact with the cool air. Bro spoke lovingly in an attempt to soothe him. Once the nappy was removed, Jack pissed in the air. The urine flew in a curved motion and splashed onto his face.

“Fuck!” cried Bro. “He’s doing it again”. He covered Jack’s face to avoid the same happening again.

Seconds later, Jack emptied his little bladder on his face once again. It made for a funny sight from the sofa across the room.

Hours later the newly-parents and Jack had departed for their own home. Mum and I heaved a sigh of relief.

Hangovers and new-born babies do not mix well.

A Tad Emotional

This week has been an emotional one. On Saturday, I was lucky enough to attend the wedding of two friends. I watched – almost teary eyed – as the Bride confidently walked up the aisle to her future husband. The wedding ceremony was beautiful. The reception was jubilant. It was the perfect celebration of a life-long commitment of love. I whole heartedly enjoyed myself. I could not help but constantly check my phone for news of my nephew’s impending arrival into life.

After artificial inducement, Jack arrived on Monday afternoon. Mum and Bro were understandably tired. Both were lost for words; neither was communicative. I felt excluded and distant from my family. I wanted nothing more than to get in the car and drive one hundred or so miles to the hospital to visit my nephew. Work commitments, distance and limited access to Jack did not allow me do so. I sat here in Dublin with a puss on my face, calling Mum every few hours for updates.

Last night, I received a picture of the Newborn. I swelled with emotion and pride. I have shown countless colleagues and friends his image. Jack is tiny. Despite his miniscule size, he bears my family’s resemblance. His distinct eye-shape clearly ties him with his father and me, his uncle. I will see him tonight. I know I’ll cry. Boyfriend will throw his eyes to heaven when I do. Mum will initially laugh and eventually shed some tears too. Bro will laugh at Mum and I, but he will secretly feel emotional too. It will make for a funny scene.

It’s no surprise I feel the way I do. Five days ago I joined two friends in a ceremony as they dedicated their lives to one another. Two days ago, my twenty two year old brother became a father. His twenty one year old girlfriend endured child birth to bring my nephew into this physical plain. Is it really any wonder I feel tender at the moment? A box of Kleenex would make a wise investment. I should really buy nappies too. The nappies are for Jack.

Nephew

Last night, at five o’clock, my nephew Jack came into this world. At his time of arrival, he weighed 5 lbs and 12 oz.

He’s small and is currently under the watchful eye of the nurses. Hopefully, Mum and nephew will be released today.

I won’t even try word the level of emotion I feel at the moment.