And so it goes...

Mobbes the Daddy is quite smug that he wrote the last entry and became excited about me updating the blog. I don't know whether to think it's cute or roll my eyeballs at him, so I did both.

Yesterday we waded through tens of over a thousand pictures of Dobbes that we've been taking since his birth. It has only been two months and 27 days but already we miss his teeny-ness even while enjoying how much cuter he's getting as he grows bigger, chubbier and more cherubic.

Just compare:



I know I'm a new Mum but it is like looking at two different babies. After poring over the pictures, Mobbes pined after the tiny newborn we used to have and is paranoid that current memories would also pass us by quickly. From now on, must always take videos, he says.

So...



I really shouldn't be lazy in updating the blog. Probably no one really follows this journal and that's okay because this is a repository of thoughts, feelings and memories of our adventures with Dobbes that is just for us, the Cat Family. And the good and the bad, it's all here.

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Speaking of the bad, Dobbes had a fever after his vaccination.



In early days we had freaked out over every little red bump of rash that appeared on the precious' skin. After being assured by the pediatrician (people in the know call them "paed") -- all the way at the National University Hospital miles away from home -- that yes, that is indeed miliaria and cradle cap, we proceeded to buy every known moisturiser, cream and oil that would be safe for Dobbes.

I even managed to stop picking at the skin bits on his scalp. Kinda.

So when he had the fever, Mobbes put on a brave front for all of two seconds before declaring that we should "take him to the hospital". Apparently, my attempts with the cold compress did not impress him. Of course Mobbes also conveniently fell asleep while I stayed up with Dobbes pretty much the whole night, compressing and hydrating him with feeds.

From time to time I would shake Mobbes awake to take temperature. It hovered on the higher side of 37 degrees, even venturing to 38 plus degrees at one point.

At dawn, when Dobbes woke up crying for a feed, his forehead felt cool to the touch. He fed voraciously. I was relieved, knowing instinctively that his fever had broken but poked Mobbes in the ribs just to be certain. He scrambled for the thermometer.

(By the way, we use an OSIM Ear Scan which for the life of me, I can't figure out. Even Mobbes takes about three tries or more to get "correct readings", annoying little Dobbes in the process...)

"36.5 degrees. He's okay!" pronounced Mobbes happily.

We proceeded to celebrate by dressing him up fancy and taking him to Starbucks to play.



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By the way, best products EVER for Dobbes' skin...