The Camera Never Lies

I am not – and Jo will readily testify this – particularly photogenic. As a baby and young boy I had a certain flair, being able to produce a naturally happy face, but in the years of adulthood I am unable to smile for the camera. At best I look contemplative, though mostly I come across as grumpy or bored.

It’s not for the lack of trying that I fail miserably (or succeed to be miserable). Inside my head I believe I’m pulling a cheeky smile; the muscles around my mouth feel like they are tugging excessively. But the end result is nothing more than an expression of mild disdain.

I recently tried forced laughter in one picture, and a positively jaw-breaking open-mouthed smile in another. I looked like a mixture of Elmer Fudd and a Pakistani.

Should my daughters’ memories of me be based on our photos, I fear I may ruin their lives, which is why I write this, in defence.

Oh, Mona Lisa, we are united in a curse.

The First Recognizable Words

Of course, Zelda has been able to pronounce Mamma and Pappa for a while, now, but her first proper word (which can be a rough pronunciation of the Swedish “lampa”, or the English equivalent) has been “lamp”, along with a raised hand in the air. At first it was no more than an action accompanying the word, but now she is able to point out, or look at, a lamp in the vicinity.

More impressively, she is also able to mimic my farting.

What Blogging Is Not About

It is not about over three months of silence. Life has taken over, instead. It’s a shame that it gets in the way, but I suppose I shouldn’t complain. It does, though, nag at me that I have been quiet of late, something I hope to rectify.

Zelda is now nine months old, and time is flying by. She is as sweet as I could have imagined, a truly wonderful being to have in our lives. Freya is loving and proud, too. The usual milestones have been passed: saying “Mamma”, mouthing a fish sound when asked, as well as knowing what a microwave says (beep, beep, beep).

Her love of water is almost fanatical, splashing around ecstatically like a wind-up toy when we go to swim-school; her love of tasting new food is wonderful to see, especially loving an apple and lentil soup that Freya and Edla made the other day.

She’s started to walk around with our help, and a few weeks ago she started crawling; she eats everything she picks up from the floor, something we never experienced with Freya.

Children are brilliant.

Four Months with Zelda

It’s now four months since Zelda came into our world. We had no idea what to expect having a second child, and were ready for a total upheaval. And yet, four months in, our lives have not been changed very much at all.

Since Zelda’s arrival things have been running quite smoothly – Freya’s four-year old moods withstanding – and she has been a fantastically easygoing baby, happy to be. We still have our own time when they both get to sleep before 8pm, and when she’s awake there are relatively few moments that require any real effort. But I suppose it’s all relative.

Freya was a joy as a baby. We felt we were blessed to have a first child. And then when Z came we had difficulties believing that anyone could be calmer than our beloved Freya. But so it was.

Everything is going so quickly that it is hard to imagine Zelda as a newborn. Looking at other babies I cannot fathom that Z was once so small and fragile.

As a newcomer I thought, when wrinkles were more prominent, that she looked a bit like how I remember uncle Stan to be (he’s not dead – I just haven’t seen him for many years).

And then Jo pointed out the similarities to the “real” Princess Zelda…

We Come Four

Today we welcomed another little being into our world: Zelda.

Even though this is the second time, it truly is one of the most surrealistic situations, to see one’s own child for the first time. It is so real, and yet so very, very bizarre, and it almost felt like she didn’t belong here.

I hope this all turns out to be an exciting adventure for you, Zelda. Just don’t take it all too seriously.