Several months ago, I was practicing violin with Big Boy-O, when Baby-F announced he was going to the toilet to “caca” (French for poop). I acknowledged it rather distractedly, and continued to supervise Big Boy-O’s violin practice. He apparently kept shouting to tell me that he’s finished with his business, for me to clean him up. I can’t remember if I eventually heard him and went down to clean him up, or he eventually did it himself and came up. But at some point, he asked me something along the lines of: “Mama, do you care more about [O] to playing violin, or me dying?” / “Would you come to me if I was dying, or would you play violin with [O]?”

I was completely flabbergasted. I think I might have first reacted with: “That’s a stupid question”, before having a moment of empathy and rolling the word “stupid” back. But I hugged him and was adamant in reassuring him: “It’s not even a contest! OF COURSE, I would care more about you dying than [Big Boy-O] playing violin! Why would you even need to ask?! It’s NOT EVEN CLOSE!”

But I was also quick to follow up with: “BUT… you were not dying. You were pooping. And I just didn’t hear you because the violin playing was so loud and you were far away (the toilet is downstairs). And you’re big enough to know or learn how to clean your own bum.”

And I jokingly asked him: “Are you surprised by answer? That you being alive / making sure you don’t die is more important than O playing violin? Did you think I would answer differently?” And he smiled his cute little smile and said: “No, I thought you would answer the way you did.” (Phew!)

But skimming though this little blog / online journal, I do realise that I have far fewer posts dedicated to Baby-F compared to Big Boy-O (the difference is VAST. Not even close!). Largely because I just had more time when I had “only” one kid, even though having even one child is already life changing in terms of the amount of work and effort it takes vs not having any children at all. And also perhaps because with the first child, everything is new, exciting, and a discovery. And also infinitely more stressful, especially in the early days: ‘Am I doing it right? Will this action or that approach fuck up my baby forever?’ Before, I realise that a lot of things are a bit random / out of your hands, and babies and children are a lot hardier and more resilient than first time parents realise. And also, once the foundations are properly laid in the ‘critical period’ for many things, things are just easier. Albeit, with constant reinforcements and daily uphill battles… where quantity (repetition) counts as much as quality. (While I think ‘quality’ counts for a lot in parenting, we can’t entirely dismiss the impact of ‘quantity’).

So I just wanted to write a post here, dedicated to my darling baby boy. And to remind myself, not to let him suffer, or feel less loved, through accidental ‘benign neglect’, or feel neglected.

I used to have the intention and philosophy of having ‘alone time’ with each of the kids (the thinking was having each parent or both parents spending alone time with each kid), so that they don’t feel like they are always lumped together, or don’t have space and time to be themselves. But that has somehow slipped partly because the kids enjoy each other’s company, and frankly, both kids (but especially Baby-F) prefers Papa. So I’m always considered “the short straw”, and Big Boy-O tends to be more willing to ‘settle’ for me, instead of Papa, compared to Baby-F. So I do spend comparatively more time and am comparatively closer to Big Boy-O than Baby-F. I also tend to feel more protective of Big Boy-O, because I think his Papa is a bit too harsh on him, probably because he takes after me more in some ways.

Today, Baby-F actually opted to walk with me and hold my hand during part of our walk along the Pink Granite Coast, which was so, so lovely and sweet. I need to remember to spend some alone time with each of my boys.

But in particular, this post is for Baby-F, my radiant little flame!