So the new baby has finally landed Zorawar as his moniker. What’s more, Darling Husband, to whose ear it didn’t sound like it belonged to any culture or country, chose it. When I was growing up, all that I associated it with was one of Guru Gobind Singh’s sons. Now that bloody Honey Singh Yo Yo (as DH prefers to call him) has gone and made a film of the same name and nearly ruined it.
Another serious contender was Virat – but that fell by the wayside as I reckoned that most new baby boys in India these days would be called that, given Virat Kohli’s popularity.
And then I really wanted to call our new baby Tiger. I also considered Bear, Wolf and Beuwulf, like the film. No, really, I did… Leo and Tiger would make a nice pair, I thought. But the new baby likes a good snooze and Sleeping Tiger would’ve been more appropriate. Still has a hint of mystery and latent danger to it, imo, but Darling Husband was having none of it.
Anyway, his inclination to sleep sits very well with Leo who, unsurprisingly, still demands the lion’s share of attention.
We were wary of sibling jealousy but I didn’t think I could really prepare Leo in any meaningful way – he was only 19 months old and what would he understand? I used to point to my belly and say “Mama tummy baby”, and every single time, Leo’s response would be to lift up his own shirt and show me his pristine bellybutton.
Around here, it’s quite the norm to give the older sibling a gift “from the baby”, for the newborn to bring a peace offering to its older sibling so that it might have half a chance of survival in the same house, sharing the same sleep deprived parents! What utter consumerist bs, said I, in my usual superior way. Leo has plenty of gifts and he doesn’t need to be distracted or mollified with a gift at the drop of a hat. DH, however, bought a couple of children’s books and started talking to Leo about a baby in the house, and how Leo would be a lovely and kind big brother. He probably also used some magic dust and fairy whispers, because when we they were finally introduced, Leo couldn’t stop cooing over the baby. He hadn’t seen me for 3 days – the first time we’d been apart – and I made sure that he saw me first, separately, and then the baby, so that he wouldn’t think I was trying to replace him with a brand new baby (kids are paranoid like that!).
Most of the time, Leo’s a gentle giant. I say gentle because the capacity for affection and empathy in a 20 month old toddler has taken me by surprise. He makes baby talk with Zorawar, uses the back of his hand to stroke Z’s face, very carefully touches his head with Z’s and is the first one to run to Z whenever he cries. And I say giant because there’s a huge disconnect between the little boy I left behind and the enormous toddler I seem to have come back to. It’s the weirdest thing: Leo, whom I had been lugging around on my pregnant belly less than a week before giving birth now seems like an elephant compared to the relatively feather light Zorawar. After exclusively wiping Z’s miniature bum in the hospital for three days, wiping Leo’s seemed like wiping an adult bum. #thingsnoonetellsyou!
Leo’s lovely with Z and all that but at the end of the day, he’s just a toddler, so once or twice a day, he puts his foot down and insists that I prioritise him instead of Z. Z in turn is picking up the tricks of the trade really quickly too: put him down for too long and he starts squawking which fast builds to a full blown cry in less than 30 seconds. Usually happens with uncanny timing when I am cooking Leo’s meal or getting his bath ready. DH and I reckon the kid is trying to play us. They start so early these days, who can tell?
(The author is a former TV journo who stays in London. She became Mama to baby Leo in April 2015. She started this blog as an outlet for the intense, roller-coaster experience that pregnancy and motherhood entail. And for recording the journey with as much humour – black mostly – as she can cram in. Oh and dispensing free gyan as she ticks the been there, done that milestones.)