Posted in I'm the Daddy


‘He’s a lump, isn’t he?’ That is how one of my friends reacted to seeing George for the first time last week. Another joked that he didn’t want to catch his eye in case George took a dislike to him and decided to beat him up. The descriptions of George tend to follow a theme. Bruiser. Big Unit. Solid. Chunky. We boys is big and that is the way I like it.

George was always going to be a big baby. His growth charts followed a steady upward curve but always on the top end of his chart. His Mamma always thought he would need to come out of her tummy via the ‘sun roof’ and when he did, he was an impressive 9b 8oz – exactly matching my own birth weight. In the four months since, he has come close to doubling that opening weight and already looks a few months older than his peers.  He has become a little powerhouse and once he is crawling I can’t see anything getting in his way.

To me this is a source of great pride. I have always thought being bigger than the other babies is evidence of how well my lovely wife can grow a baby even though this is based on nothing but fatherly pride. As I am also on the large side, George looks like a mini me in every way and I love it when people make this comparison. I will never grow tired of day dreaming about his future sporting prowess and his potential to rip up the rugby field.

The only time it doesn’t work is when George and his Mamma go out without me. Too many people look at her petite 5ft 2in frame, forget that babies can take after BOTH their parents and conclude that she must be over feeding him. Even if the questions don’t take on a judgmental edge she finds it tiring having to constantly explain that George takes after his Daddy, in looks and size. Hopefully she won’t have to do this forever. To make sure I will be setting my little bruiser on any repeat offenders.

How did people react to your baby? What questions are you constantly forced to field? All comments are welcome.

Update: I took a photo of George’s wrestler legs and just had to add it!


18 thoughts on “Lump

  1. We had a “michelin” baby and I got similar comments. My answer was always “It’s because my milk is so good!” which seemed to shut them up! No-one comments on the fact any more that she was a big baby and looking at her now one potentially might not even be able to imagine/remember it either.
    Unfortunately, comments don’t seem to stop there. In the same way as everybody always knows which team to put on a football pitch to beat the opponent and/or which tactics to play, everybody always seems to know better how to grow up your child. Whether its the weaning stage, the bedtime routine, etc. everybody has their opinion and does not hesitate to voice it. You don’t even have to ask for it! We’ve found it best to just stick to our guts and do whatever we feel is best for us and the little one!

    1. I really don’t remember seeing Lily with much in the way of chub rings and I’d never describe her as a big baby. Shows how everyone gets the comments no matter what. Jo is learning to ignore them but I guess she just wishes they said ‘isn’t he cute’ first.

      1. Lily certainly wasn’t big when she was born (5lbs 6oz) but she looked big compared to other babies later on. But to me always healthy 🙂 It’s a nice wish of Jo, I hope it’ll come true – shouldn’t be that difficult really as George clearly is a gorgeous boy!

  2. Oh my – this sounds familiar! I am 5ft 1″ and Ed when born was 9lb 8 1/2 oz and we had very similar comments! What a chunk! What a whopper! Ugh, I just smiled and nodded and tried to ignore them (whilst having to stop myself from saying “at least he isn’t as fat as YOU!”).
    Try not to worry too much what people say. People ALWAYS have something to say – they seem to think their opinion is DESPERATELY required and needed and the world will crumble if they don’t get their two cents in. I have heard people say “oooh, isn’t she tiny? Like a little doll? So skinny! She needs fattenting up” etc etc etc to friends’ babies. Any comment they can make, they will.
    With Ed we had a lot of the food comments, which really got to me. He was BF for a bit, but then bottle fed and weaned earlier than “the guidelines”. Man, did people have comments on that! It can be upsetting because it is all so new, and you don’t know what the hell you are supposed to be doing, and lets face it, we all just scrape by on a wing and a prayer! It gets easier as you meet more idiots, bizarrely, because you start to realise their silly comments don’t count. It is the comments of the few decent friends you have that do.
    Or at least that’s what we found.
    In the end, after months of people saying
    “Isn’t Ed a BIG BOY!”
    I just ignored them. Actually just didn’t answer them. And you know what? They were so busy twittering one about the next shiney thing that caught their little goldfish brains they didn’t even realise.
    ps) George looks gorgeous

    1. Thanks for the comment. I’m beginning to realise how common this line of questioning is so i’m glad we are not alone. It seems completely unfair that Mothers bear the brunt of of the criticism as usual.

  3. What gorgeous legs!!!
    They look just like my Isabellas when she was little. Bella was always tracking the top of the growth charts even though I was feeding her myself.
    She was walking the week before she was nine months, the weight never held her back, think it was all muscle. You would never know now, at nearly four she has really slimmed down.
    Don’t worry about any comments you get, he’s all yours and he’s perfect, half of you and half of his mummy x

    1. Thank you! I spent 10 minutes laughing at this photo before I posted it! George does seem to have plenty of muscle so I’m hoping it will help him with crawling and walking as well.

  4. We get wordless pity. My 10m/o has a knobbly red strawberry-birthmark on her head, up above the hairline. It is about the size of half a walnut. People don’t know what it is, so they assume it’s something dreadful (cancer usually) but in a sort of misplaced politeness don’t actually articulate this assumption.
    They laugh and joke with Scamp but they pour pity down on Tizzie, making sympathetic statements with heartfelt eyes, sometimes even welling up with tears! They might say “aww, dear little love, so beautiful” or “you do such a good job with them”, “it must be so hard with, you know, with… (awkward silence)”, “with two of them?”, “yes, with the two of them (hand wringing and sideways head)”.
    I don’t correct them unless they say something directly infactual. Without a fact to dismiss where would you even start. I have been known to laugh though, when they are out of sight. I’m too kind to make fools of them on the spot.
    Like your wife I receive the misplaced concern of strangers for the wellbeing of my baby, but of a different hue.

    1. I really wouldn’t have thought a small birth mark would cause that much of a problem but it goes to show the minefield of comments parents have to navigate. I still don’t understand why so many strangers feel the need to comment.

      1. It must be to do with parents needing to articulate their feelings/thoughts. Maybe they actually want to find out what’s up but don’t dare to ask directly because of the reaction of the parents. I’d rather be asked directly though instead of some humming and hawing.

  5. Children tend to just ask “what’s that thing on her head”, then “does it hurt” and “will it always be there”. Around 60 seconds later we have done the whole strawberry topic and we’re on to something else, easy peasy. Hand wringing from adults (usually older ladies) lasts the entire encounter, which on a train can be quite long.
    It’s big, it’s ugly and it’s obvious, but it’s not who Tizzie is. Tizzie is a little dolly, with a cast iron will lurking under the big blue eyes. She has something of the Mary Poppins about her, dainty, charming, sugar-coated, and yet somehow still very much in charge. It’s hard to overlook Tizzie’s laughing eyes and big smile. It suggests to me that people who do must be so full of grey and brownness that they miss the sky blue and sugar pinkness which is the real Tizzie.

    “We see the world, not as it is, but as we are──or, as we are conditioned to see it.”- Stephen. R. Covey

    It’s not George. It’s not your wife. It’s them.

    The real irony is, while those people are scorning Mrs Harris and pitying baby Tizzie, it is them who are both scornful and pitiable in that they can not see Georges burly but content little character, and Tizzie’s sugar coated steel. Poor them, silly them.

      1. Very well put Sarah.

        I have to say I’m interested in why people behave in these ways or why we feel the way we feel about those comments and I would love to understand it. I guess there is a variety of reasons for it and probably also down to how we have been raised in the first place, maybe never have been told/never learned to be upfront about uncomfortable things, not knowing how to deal with disabilities or anything looking slightly unusual …

        Thinking about my 16 months old godson, who has just undergone a second operation on his skull (Craniosynostosis), and her mum I know how she felt and that she was scared as to what is going to happen to her little baby. The majority of people who knew of and commented on the upcoming operation felt sorry for her and the little one and I’m not sure it helped my sister. I personally would have preferred encouragement and positive comments. But we are all different and to me it shows that we cannot control the way we feel. Everyone deals differently with situations that are uncommon in what we so far have experienced in our own lives.

        People are different and that’s good.

        But it’s not all about the physical things either. I caught myself judging a parent a couple of years back when I saw the behaviour of their child in public which in my own personal opinion was just … wrong, rude, embarrassing. I can’t even describe why it upset me so much at the time. I didn’t know them and I just observed that one situation. Yet I judged … later on I realised how wrong it was of me to judge simply based on a single situation. I didn’t know and still don’t know what exactly happened but do I know whether this was the child’s usual behaviour, whether the child is maybe autistic or special in another way, whether the parent was helpless/did not know what to do? I don’t and I should have not judged. Should I have offered help? I don’t know … I feel bad about my feelings at the time though and I’m still learning to be more open and understand why I feel the way I feel. But it took me to have Lily to realise some of these things but I feel better for it 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s