Six Weeks : Colicky or What?

I am now almost ready to admit that Robert is colicky. If he is, then there is some good news for us at six weeks: Firstly, we are halfway through this tiresome stage, and secondly it doesn’t get any worse after this.

The cause of colic is not known for sure, but there are many theories trying to explain it. According to these, the crying may be caused by any of the following: gas, immature digestive system, expanding lungs, misaligned limbs (in c-section babies), and/or overstimulation. Most of these theories are unproven, but in Robert’s case the most likely one would be overstimulation. We noticed that his crying got much worse on days when there was too much going on. For example when we go out for a long walk in our noisy neighborhood, or when he stays awake for too long without sleep. One particularly nasty episode of crying occurred last week after a long talk with my aunt on Skype. Ron often comments on how animated (and loud) my talks with my family are – this is a middle eastern trait, people in that part of the world cannot speak quietly. It is possible that Robert did not react very well to this excitement, especially since it happened dangerously close to the time of day when he starts getting cranky.

We have tried several strategies to deal with Robert’s crying. The most successful one so far is putting him in the baby carrier. This works very well, and whenever I start walking around with him he calms down, and falls asleep soon after. The only problem is that he wakes up as soon as he is taken out of the carrier. As a result, he spent more time sitting in the carrier than out of it in the past few days, especially when it is cold.

Despite my ample experience at walking around with baby in the carrier, I had a scary incident last Friday. I twisted my ankle while walking down the hill and went straight down on one knee. Fortunately, I held on to baby and kept my upper body upright. Robert bounced against the padding of the carrier, and wasn’t affected much. In fact, he only grunted, changed position and then resumed his nap, while I got away with a nasty scrape on my right knee. Ron also had an alarming experience. He was looking after Robert one evening while I was trying to get some sleep. Robert was sitting in his chair in the lounge, in a lively but non-threatening mood. Ron must have gone to the bathroom for a minute and when he came back, I just heard him exclaim: “Oh my God”, then he brought Robert over to the bedroom and started asking me tense question whether I took the baby out of the chair. He then told me that something awful had happened ! When he walked back into the lounge, he saw baby lying flat on the floor with his head underneath the chair. Of course, he panicked and it took him a few seconds to realise that baby was quite alright. Later we concluded that Robert must have gradually slipped down from his sitting position in the chair (which is designed to work as a rocking chair). As he slipped down he must have tipped the chair forward, so that its seat touched the floor and created a sliding surface. Thus he ended up on the floor without a thud or a cry. The incident made us realise the danger of leaving baby unattended even for a minute. It was even scarier for us because sometimes we put the baby chair up on our breakfast table while we are eating.

The weather is still cold. Sunday was particularly dismal, and it was on that day that I finally finished knitting Robert’s baby jacket, which I started two weeks before he was born. It turned out nice and he finally got to wear it today, thanks to the late arrival of spring.

On the brighter side of things, Robert is cooing, gurgling, and trying to make conversation. This is starting to happen now more often; once he gets his fill of milk he looks up at me and smiles and starts up with his side of the story. I always give him a playback of the sounds he makes. Ron for his part, swears that baby is almost ready to stand up by himself. When he holds him upright, Robert plants his feet on his lap and locks his knees to carry his weight on little legs. Ron also ‘exercises’ Robert’s muscles regularly, and the little one likes that. I can tell that he is an active little baby, and will take after his father in this respect. He will be quite a handful once he gets bigger.

The Syrian Bride

It has been some time since I went and saw a good film, and this one was.It was shown here in Cape Town as part of the “Cape Town World Cinema Festival 2006” http://www.sithengi.co.za/

Of course given the film’s title it was impossible for me to ignore it, and so I chose to see it with Ron.

The simple story revolves around the wedding of Mona, a Druze woman from the occupied Golan heights, who is to wed a relative she hardly knows, from across the border in Syria. The complication is that once she enters Syrian soil she can no longer return to her native Majdal Shams. Her family who were attending her wedding and seeing her off at the border post, were in essense bidding her a final farewell.

The characters spoke as they would have in real life, switching between Arabic, Hebrew and English. Here is a list of the most notable characters:

Amal, the bride’s sister, caught in an unhappy marriage, yet chipping away at her prison bars with slow but unfaltering resolve. She is the quintessential Arab woman, in her sacrifice and limitless patience;

Hammad, the brides father, caught in the middle of political and social contradictions: The law of the occupied territories, his loyalty to his identity, his loyalty to tradition and his paternal love. The last two influences play against each other in his poignant confrontation with his long absent son Hattem, who came after eight years to attend the wedding of his youngest sister along with his Russian wife and their son – they are the symbolic and actual break from tradition which led to the family rift

Last but not least is Marwan, and doesn’t every family have one? A slimy characters who knows how to charm women, and travels the world on ‘business’. He speaks in blooming yet, vaguely defined terms of his business, which leaves you wondering about its legality. He has enough money though, and the charm he bestows on women has little to do with his looks.

Marwan is the Macho type, his male friends and relatives laugh about his escapades with his foreign, and Jewish lady loves, yet his brother who married a foreigner, a Russian doctor no less, is sneered at, his wife hardly accepted in the conservative village.

The film I thought gave an honest portrait of life in the region. The deadly bureaucracy at the border control and the apathetic behaviour of the Syrians at the border control were typical as far as I am concerned. The useless officials simply shrug their shoulder and mouth their sweetly spoken but unwavering rejections: Come on Sunday, we can’t do anything now; Or: This can only be approved by the president. Meanwhile the poor applicant ( in this case the Syrian Bride ) is caught in the middle.

Very good movie – go see it if you haven’t

http://www.syrianbride.com/english.html