Sing, siiing, sing, sing, sing

First of all, happy St Paddy’s Day!


That thing she’s attempting to destroy is her new arch-nemesis, the Turtle-Shaped Comforter. When they’re not engaged in epic battle, she pointedly ignores it.

Since I can’t get totally wasted this year (or probably any year for the next ten years, after which the hangover will no longer be worth it), I celebrated St Patrick’s Day by dressing Baby Diva in the ADORABLE dress you can see her in above. Why yes, those are tiny shamrocks tied with pink ribbons. Courtesy of her Irish Granny.

It says 0-6 months on the label. Or maybe 06, which would be more accurate, though I’m not sure why they’d even need the 0. Either way, it fits her perfectly now she’s 4 months old and wearing all her cousins’ 6 month clothes.

Her “thing” right now is – again – shrieking. It comes and goes. We’ve tried ignoring her, telling her nicely to stop, frowning and telling her firmly to stop, occasionally shouting back (usually followed by an inordinate amount of guilt and self-loathing, especially since Baby Diva thinks it’s a game and shouts even LOUDER). It seems to be getting worse as her lung capacity increases, which is logical, and although it does occasionally go away as she explores other noises (she now growls, coos, squeals and says “Awawawa” while frowning gravely, which makes her look like a politician talking about the state of the economy). But at some point it comes back. It’s like she remembers – “Oh yeah, I forgot I could do this – AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!”

At the baby clinic the other day, the doctor said we should sing to her.

I was like, I sing to her ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.

She was like, no. You need to sing as high as her, and then go down the notes melodically. And you need to do it 30, 40 times before she’ll get it. And keep doing it after that to encourage her.

I was like, I don’t have the range to go that high. Only I said it in my head because I think the doctor would have just said to shut up and do it anyway.

So we’ve been singing to her. We sound stupid doing it, but we have no fucks to give about that. In fact we have a deficit of fucks to give about appearance right now, which means that we take a perverse sort of pride in looking ridiculous to outsiders. They don’t understand the world we live in, with their social norms and unspoken rules. To hell with them.

Singing hasn’t prevented her from shrieking, but it has helped. We’re no longer sitting there passively being deafened, instead we have something to do, something the doctor has said will work. Right??

We started two days ago. This morning after I’d fed her, I handed her to Daddy Diva so I could get a bit more sleep (he’d been up since her 3am feed, don’t ask me why as she’d slept till half seven). No such luck: she almost immediately began to shriek again. The sound insulation in this house is shite so I could also hear Daddy Diva singing and pleading with her to stop, at which point she shrieked…

…and sang.

I swear. She did it twice. She raised her voice high up in a shriek, then went down two or three notes to a more reasonable level.


Of course, she hasn’t repeated it since, but… PROGRESS, AMIRITE??

PS – if you write the word “shriek” several times it starts to look really weird.


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