Enzo’s World

  I went to see my pediatrician today for a check-up. I love it every time we go visit Dr. Buendia. She’s such a jolly person. Gentle and playful, too. I also love the cool gadgets at her clinic. She’s got one which she uses to listen to my heart, then another one to measure how long I’ve grown.

  I particularly enjoy riding that thing they call a “scale.” It’s just right for my size, and it wiggles when I lie on it. Just after I ride it, the medical secretary says aloud a bunch of numbers. “4.3 kilos,” she called out today.

These visits to the clinic have my parents and Dr. Buendia talking non-stop about me. Today, they laughed a lot as they talked about my hair, my belly and my chin. Wanna know why? Read on…

OH, WHERE O WHERE IS MY HAIR?

   Oh, no! I’ve got a bald spot! Piso. Poknat. And it’s right on my forehead. *moan* That’s less “pogi” points for me!

   This unwelcome observation arised during my check-up today. Dr. Buendia stroked my head and said: “Hey, how come we still have no hair over here?”

   If it is any consolation, she said it’s probably just ordinary baby baldness and that my hair will grow in no time. And if it doesn’t—I’d be wondering how it could happen. Both Mommy and Daddy have thick, healthy hair. No bald spots. Unless I got it from something or someone my mom had a liking for while she conceived me… Aha! It must be that short, funny, bald guy from mommy’s favorite noon time show Eat Bulaga.

   Oh, Mommy! Of all the people to develop a fondness for… why, o why a bald guy?! Why couldn’t it have been Tom Cruise, Alfred Vargas or George Eads?

   *Sigh* Let’s keep our fingers crossed that I’ll eventually have a head full of locks!

MILK OVERLOAD

  Dr. Buendia said I had a big tummy.

   Daddy laughed at my doctor’s comment. "He takes in so much milk, that’s why. Ayaw paawat!"

  “Should we decrease his feedings?” Mommy asked.

  “No, he’s okay.” Said Dr. Buendia.

   Whew! That scared me for a while. No way was I going to let them get in the way of my love for milk. Oh my! What a tragedy that would have been!

   I wonder why my milk belly is such an issue. I thought it was a trademark among babies. Well, I think my tummy is cute. So do other people who see me. They coo adoringly when they see my chubby physique—especially my round, protruding belly. 

*****

   After much ado about my milk belly, Mommy had Dr. Buendia check out the rashes and skin peeling on my neck.

  “Neck? What neck?” said my doctor as she laughingly explored layer after layer of skin.

   Sure, sure. Blame it on my milk addiction again. I can’t help it—I’m hooked on milk! I get cranky when deprived of my usual 3 to 4.5-ounce serving of Nan-HA. And I can’t let the day pass without bonding with Mommy for a private feeding at least 6 times.

INTERVENTIONS

   Dr. Buendia concludes that my milk belly and double layers of chin are results of my rapid weight gain. And so, Mommy and Dr. Buendia discussed two common steps to address my rapid weight gain… both of which got the thumbs down from them:

          1. stopping me from feeding on demand, and

          2. giving me the pacifier

   The final verdict: maintain the status quo. Never mind the milk belly and the multi-layered chin. At least, nobody can say my parents don’t take good care of me.

   So—can someone go get my bottle?   I’m ready for my milk now =)

   I made new friends today. Ten, to be exact. Five sets of twins. They lingered by my side as I lay in my crib after bath time this morning. It was fun! Imagine, ten new playmates!

  Meet the twins: Pinkie-winkie and Pinkie-tinkie, Ringky-dingky and Ringky-roo, Middy-diddy and Middy-doo, Pointy- toinky and Pointy-poo; and Bubba-tum-thumb and Ruba-tum-thumb.

  The first time I saw my new friends, they bowed to me in greeting. They never made a sound but I knew they were glad to meet me because they waved and wiggled to say “hi.”

   I wanted to introduce the twins to Mittens. But my best pals have gone AWOL and were nowhere to be found. Hmnnn… I wonder where mittens could be…

   Of all the twins, I liked Bubba-tum-thumb and Ruba-tum-thumb best. They were so stubby and cute! Plus, they weren’t shy at all and often paid a visit to my lips for a quick kiss. *mwah!*

   For my ultimate pleasure, my new pals entertained me as they danced the hula to the tune of Mommy’s “Tiny Bubbles.” It was a treat watching them twist and turn. I’ve never seen such dancing!

   I fell asleep as my new friends went on with their business by my side. When I woke up, they were gone! But my best pals Mittens was back. Oh, how I wish my new friends met Mittens!

Note from Enzo’s mom: Today, Enzo had his nails trimmed for the first time. He had his first up-close encounter with his fingers as he was able to enjoy a whole afternoon of being mittens-free.

   I can’t help it. The urge just comes and—boom! I release what my Daddy calls my deadly stink bombs.

   At first, Daddy seemed amused by my noisy emissions. He marveled at how a tiny thing like me could produce such thunderous sounds. He laughs heartily and teases me a lot when he hears me “tooting” away. But then, after eradicating the by-product of my stink bombs three times in a row, Daddy was not quite as amused anymore. I don’t blame him—even I hate the smell of my own poopie!

   Meanwhile, Mommy says she’s amused by the way my face contorts each time a stink bomb is en route. I had no idea I looked funny! As far as I’m concerned, I’m just performing a natural biological urge.

   There’s an art to stink bomb and poopie ejection. Let’s first talk about stink bombs. You see, it all starts with a rumble in the tummy which builds up to a pressure impossible to contain. Easing the pressure requires hearty “toots” powered by 3 G’s: grimace, growls and full body gyration. The heartier the “toot,” the more intense the 3 G’s.

   In the event of increasing frequency of stink bomb ejection, a major poopie cannot be too far away. It’s a must for a major poop to be preceded by a stoic countenance characterized by platter-wide eyes and stone-stiff extended arms and legs. Once these steps are completed, poop is sure to follow. The cue that the dirty deed is done? Sniff the air! Believe me, the scent is addictive. Take my Daddy’s word for it. He says even his dreams are haunted by its distinctive smell.

  I’m b-o-o-o-o-r-e-d! It’s 2:30 in the morning and everyone’s asleep. There’s no one to sing to me, talk to me or carry me. I’m supposed to be asleep, too. But I don’t feel sleepy at all… What’s a baby to do at a time like this?

  Why, hello there mitten! I guess it’s just you and me tonight. Am I lucky you’re always here with me. At least, when Mommy, Daddy and Ela have all fallen asleep after tucking me in for a good night’s sleep, I have you to talk to.

   I love talking to you, mitten. You understand baby language very well. Plus, you come in two’s. I turn to my left—you’re there. I turn to the right—you’re still there. I’m never alone as long as you’re around.

   I’m really thankful for your companionship. Plus, you do a pretty good job taking care of me, too. You keep my hands safe and warm, and you keep my long nails away from my skin. Mommy says if it weren’t for you, I might end up scratching my skin. And you know what else I like about you? You don’t seem to mind when I accidentally spit up milk on you. Sure, you get dirty…. But you always come back. And when you do, you come back all squeaky clean.

   I love your fashion sense, too mitten. Sometimes you come with nifty ribbons that tie you to my wrists. Sometimes, you come in frilly elastic bottoms that make you look like you’re wearing a skirt. Then sometimes, I don’t know how you do it, you come in different colors! You manage to change from white, to yellow, to blue, to pink… Wow. You’re really soooo cool.

  *Sigh* It’s so quiet… how would you like to chat? Snuggle up real close, I’ve got lots to tell you. Ready,mittens?  

*bzzz—bzzz—bzzz*

   I hope you liked our little chat. I’d love to keep at it, but I’m sleepy now. Whatchasay we call it a night? Nytie-nyt, mitten on my left! Nytie-nyt, mitten on my right! See you later…

I love music— but not when it’s blaring from your next-door neighbor’s videoke machine at full volume with matching crooning of wannabe singers.

The neighbors are celebrating the day before Christmas with flair. They rented a commercial videoke machine just for the occasion. Not a bad thing, really—if only they wouldn’t direct their mega-sized speakers in the direction of our house. And if only they knew how to sing!

My goodness! How can a week-old baby get some sleep when there’s so much noise?! The off-key, off-beat renditions make me cringe, startle and jolt. Oh, well. At least, Mommy says she’s now certain that I’m not deaf.

Uh-oh. They’ve ditched the ballads and are now going for pop… Now they’re moving on to rock. Ooooh, please don’t let them launch into those irritating nonsensical songs, anything but that. Ooops, too late…

I suppose we’d just have to put up with all this noise until dawn… I wonder if there are any documented ill-effects of horrible music to an infant’s psychological development… Oh, it’s gonna cost my parents big bucks to send me to therapy to counteract any damage caused by all this din and racket!

    I’m going home to-da-a-a-y! I’m going home to-da-a-a-y!

    Oh, I can’t wait to get home. I can’t wait to see the house, my doggie friends Mimi, Mokey and Quasi; my Bugs Bunny-themed crib, the Christmas bear Tita Joy gave as a present… And I can hardly wait to see Ela! I’m sooooo curious why my grandma Babes prefers to be called that instead of “Lola”.

    Oops, here’s the nurse with a change of clothes for me. Oooh, this must be my going home attire. How cute, a Tweety blanket! And matching mittens and socks, too! These are from my other lola, Mom Mer (again, I wonder why my other grandma prefers to be called by a name other than “Lola”).

    Hmmmnnn… I wonder what time Mommy and Daddy will come pick me up. What? They’re already here? Really? Well, come on Ms. Nurse! Pick me up, pick me up! Can’t  you give me to my parents yet? They’re outside waiting for me? Hurry, hurry please!

    At long last, Ms. Nurse picks me up. With me and my things in tow, she opens the Nursery door. Tan-tan-an-an!

    Mommy! Daddy! Ela! Hello-o-o-o everyone!

    How are we getting home? Who will carry me? How long is the trip? Oooh, all this excitement is making my thoughts swim!

    Aren’t we leaving yet? I guess not— Ms. Nurse is still giving instructions to Mommy and Daddy on the proper way to care for me once we are home. Oh, well. I might as well sleep for a while as they talk…

    Finally, we were ready to leave. The trip home passed by in a blur. Mommy carried me in her arms as Daddy wheeled her to the car park in a wheelchair. Ela held me on the car trip home. Ouch! It was quite bumpy.

    The next thing I knew, Ela was carrying me into the house, and into the room where she set me down onto my crib. I snuggled deep into my Tweety blanket as I slipped into a deep sleep.

    It’s good to be finally home.

    The nurse said I had visitors. Cool! I didn’t know we babies could receive guests at the nursery. As far as I know, when someone wants to see us, they’d just have to take a peek from the gigantic glass window in our room.

    “Is that him?”

    “Enzo, hi Enzo!”

    I know those voices!

    “Hi there, anak,” said the female voice.

    I couldn’t be mistaken. It’s the voice I heard every single day for 37 weeks… Mommy!

    “Hello, Enzo,” cooed an excited male voice. That’s my Daddy!

   Hello, Mommy and Daddy! I’m so glad to see you at last.

    My mom and dad make a beautiful couple. Now I know where I get my good looks (Mommy’s doctor said I’m one of the most beautiful babies she’s ever seen).

    I stared intently at my parents, enjoying every second of their visit. They said they can’t stay long. They just came to breastfeed me.

    For the first few minutes of our first face-to-face meeting, mom and dad ooohhed and aaahhed, marveling at every feature of my face and body. I even heard my mom say: “Oh, my God! I can’t believe he’s really here, our baby!”

    I’m really here, Mommy. Don’t worry, I’m as healthy as can be ‘cause you took good care of me in your tummy.

    I wonder what breastfeeding is like. I’ve never done it before, and I know Mommy hasn’t either. I wonder how we’ll fare…

    Well, not badly, if I may say so. Mommy fumbled a little as we began our session. She seemed so apprehensive to hold me. She said she was scared she might drop me. A few minutes into our session, Mommy was not scared anymore. She knew how to hold me—and I liked it. Oh, it felt great to be cuddled! I felt safe and warm in Mommy’s arms.

    Then, it was Daddy’s turn to cuddle me. No breastfeeding with him though! Hehehe. Ooooh. His hands are B-I-I-I-I-I-I-G. He had no problems holding me at all because my whole body fit right into his hands! Ah, I love being in Daddy’s arms. It’s like being wrapped in a cozy blanket.

    All too soon, the visit came to and end. The nurse fetched me and put me back into my bassinet. Mommy and Daddy waved their good-byes and blew me kisses from the Newborn ICU door.

    “Bye, Enzo. See you tomorrow!”

    Bye-bye, Mommy and Daddy! I love you!