Tiny Dancer

We're back from Laura's checkup and the results are in: she's teeny tiny! (Although as teeny as she is, Will was even teenier at her age. She weighs 10 lbs 14 oz, which is a whopping half pound bigger than Will was at the four month mark. I don't even think I asked the nurse how tall she was.) I also had to admit that she doesn't get enough tummy time (thanks to her big brother constantly romping around paired with my desire to avoid some sort of head injury) and that I don't regularly give her the vitamin D drops I should. I told her doctor that it's a wonder that second children make it at all and that if she fails to become a productive citizen as an adult that she can always blame it on her lack of vitamin D as an infant. On the off chance that we have another, I will very likely forget to even take the baby to the doctor for checkups at the rate I'm going . . .

We have the green light for introducing solids, which I did with Will at this point to his enthusiastic approval, but I'm holding off since Miss Fancy Pants will probably not let me within ten feet of her with a spoon. And I want to wait until she's at least six months old, in part because I want to feel like she's really a baby for as long as possible and it seems as though solid foods are bordering on the bigger-baby end of the baby spectrum. Plus, not having to mix anything and break out the hulking high chair in our compact dining area is just the icing on the cake. And a lot of  baby food is a wee bit gross.

And, let's be honest, breastmilk poo is a much easier enterprise than when solids are introduced. In an effort to put my money where my big fat mouth is, we've embarked on a cloth diaper voyage with Laura. I started this past week after waiting until her little thighs completely filled out the covers so as to avoid increased leak potential and I'm happy to report that it's (a) surprisingly easy and (b) really cute. There really is nothing cuter than a cloth-diapered baby. Here's the proof (this was taken a while back when she had yet to grow into the covers and before we had to abort the mission for a few weeks while we waited on some increased thigh girth):

I was reading an article on cloth diapering a little while back in Mothering magazine and in it, the author tried to interview various diaper manufacturers about what they actually use in their freakishly absorbent diapers. And they refused to disclose the information. So at that point, I really thought that perhaps disposables weren't the way to go for us. And I felt guilty that I've put Will in them for so long (and at this point, I'm pretty sure he's going to be in them until he's about 15 or so, at the rate we're going). And now here we are. So far, so good. But I do acknowledge that the really gross poo is still down the road, so maybe I won't be singing the praises of cloth diapers then . . .

In relation to nothing else (except the last post), here is a perfect shot of Will in full on judgmental mode:

I told you. Totally judgmental.

Quick rundown

So. It's been a while.

Here are a few quick highlights of our last few weeks:

• Will no longer takes an afternoon nap (see second item)
• Will climbs out of his crib all the time (see first item)
• Laura is capable of sleeping on her own during naps for approximately three minutes
• I have around 11 minutes daily in which I'm not holding one, feeding another, carrying a certain one to his room, trying to keep the dishes from staging some sort of uprising on me, folding laundry that sometimes gets put away (see first three items), lather, rinse, repeat
• Laura is the sweetest baby ever born 
• She doesn't look at us judgmentally like her brother did
• She cracks up at the ol' fake sneeze number, just like Will did
• Will cracks himself up, no fake sneezes needed
• Will actually cracks us up some, too
• Or he routinely drives us to seriously consider (a) military and/or boarding preschool, (b) some sort of cage for him, (c) the sage guidance of the woman also known as Supernanny, (d) downing copious amounts of Nyquil, or (e) all of the above
• Preschool (regular, not military) starts in about six weeks
• I may or may not know exactly how many days until then, depending on how our day is going
• Today, I don't know

Another post, with pictures and everything, coming soon . . .

Two Items: An Update

1) I've located more of the Munchkin bottles (thanks to those of you who helped in my search), but

2) it doesn't really matter now since Laura is again refusing bottles. Oh well. It was nice that one time, I guess. I'm afraid I've created a bit of a monster.

Bumbo, Bath, Baby Tree Frog

A few odds and ends for your viewing pleasure:

On our way out of the neighborhood the evening before trash day, we spied a pink Bumbo perched atop someone's trash (clean and in perfect shape, along with a like-new exersaucer and playmat, also the exact same ones that we have). So we stopped and got the Bumbo. I feel a little bit greedy since we already had a blue one but we couldn't resist. Laura's initial impression wasn't exactly a good one.

But she came around the next morning.

Someday she may not be happy that her bum was on the www. Again, I couldn't resist.

This picture is a more accurate representation of what I think she really looks like.

I realized tonight that we had around 1000 or so bathtime photos of Will at this point in his life. So I took 6 bath photos of Laura. We've got a lot of catching up to do.

Baby Tree Frog pose. This doesn't really show the whole position but it's Laura's favorite spot in the world. Her face from this angle always cracks me up.

On having a daughter

I don't know if I've said this here before or not, but I never thought I'd have a daughter. I was convinced that I would only have boys for whatever reason. When I first found out I was pregnant with Will, I thought briefly that maybe it was a girl since my sister had just had Annabeth but that quickly gave way to certainty that the baby was in fact a boy. I would have been completely shocked if the ultrasound tech would've told us he was a girl but as we all know, my feeling panned out for me. Sometime before finding out that he was in fact a he, I dreamed that the baby was a boy, a little boy with blond hair sitting on our green couch. And that's been a sight I've seen now for a bit more than three years.

But this time around, it was so different. I truly didn't have a feeling one way or another for the longest time and when I had the "feeling" I wasn't entirely convinced. During the early weeks of this  second gestation, I was constantly sick. Never before and never since have I felt that wretched for that long a period of time. The desire to claw my eyeballs out was never stronger. When I considered that this may mean (especially if you're big on the old wives' tales) that the new baby could be a girl, I couldn't wrap my brain around this idea since I'd long ago convinced myself that my future involved lots of dirt and sweat and trucks and wrestling and a bizarre inability to sit still for more than three seconds at a time.

Somewhere along the way I began to consider a daughter a real possibility. This sounds really strange, I'll be the very first to admit, but the real knowing (insofar as "knowing" is possible, I guess) came as I was driving back from Walmart (how have my last few posts mentioned Walmart, a place I truly detest?).  I was sitting at a red light and from then on, I really did think that she was in fact a she. There was still a nagging voice saying that it wasn't possible, that the future I'd created in my head was the more likely scenario, but I began to think more in terms of girl than boy.

And on my 31st birthday, in a darkened room with her big brother bouncing exuberantly on the scales, I looked up at just the moment she froze the shot of a little bum, two legs and a distinct lack of boy parts on the screen. The lady didn't have to tell me, but she said something along the lines of "Well, it couldn't be more obvious. That's a little girl." (Jamison thought for sure with her choice of words that it was another boy but I already had my sneaking suspicion confirmed.) A little girl.

And while I wondered for a time what a girl would mean to us, what our daily lives would be like with a little less testosterone around, I can say unequivocally that I wouldn't want it any other way. (Which, truth be told, I would be saying if we'd had another boy. But still.)

Laura has been, since the first second I laid eyes on her, exactly what we needed. She's tiny and sweet and a wee bit feisty (I'd expect no less). She tends toward the finicky (no bottles or pacifiers for her, thank you very much) and likes someone in her sight at all times,  preferably talking or singing to her. She doesn't like her legs swaddled but delights in having her diaper changed (I know!).

She looks so, so much like Will but is so very different, too. Her hair is darker, her eyelashes thicker. Her fingernails are so dainty and feminine. Her smile takes over her whole face. She coos and sings and is most likely the sweetest baby ever born.

Since she's very probably our last baby, I try to really look at her, to really remember what this is like. Will got to be my first everything, and she'll get to be my last. There's a neat little bit of symmetry to that.

I used to hold Will in the dark after he'd finished eating and imagine how someday he'll get married and leave. I don't do that now. Instead, I put Laura down so I can look at her.

While she sleeps, I study her. The curl of her eyelashes, the curve of her plump delicious little cheek. The way her little pink lips part as she heaves a little sigh. The dimple in her chin that reminds me of her big brother but that also remains entirely hers.

And instead of thinking of her leaving us someday, I think of how fleeting this time is. The being up, the sleeping in our room, it won't last forever. But for now, all I want is this.

The curl of her eyelashes, the curve of her plump delicious little cheek. It's all right here beside me.

Two Items

1) Laura took a bottle last night! Of course, I've since been on a hunt for more since she's rejected all other options with outright disdain and it just so happens that she favors a bottle we got months back at Target on clearance that they no longer carry. (Munchkin 4 oz glass bottles--in case you run across any, please direct me to them--since I know everyone surely spends a lot of their free time looking at baby feeding items, you know.) The bottle-taking has the potential to be a liberating experience for me, as it means I can actually leave the house for more than three hours  a time without taking Laura with me. Not that I mind having her with me, but I can easily count on one hand--very easily, with a few fingers to spare--the number of times I've gone anywhere alone since she's been born. (And one of those trips shouldn't even count since I spent it at Walmart, aka the world's most unpleasant shopping experience.)

2) In other Laura-related news, she slept all night by herself in the co-sleeper next to our bed instead of in bed with us. I missed having her right next to me. Not that the co-sleeper is a huge separation or anything, but it was still different. I thought she may have trouble sleeping on her own but she slept just as well. One little step on the path to not needing us for anything ever . . . she's watching Will and taking notes, apparently.

Sibling Revelry

I'm at the end of my rope with Will these days but every once in a while something happens that further endears him to me in spite of our current difficulties. Like this.

Will is beside himself because Rosie and Eileen arrive tomorrow. He's probably in bed right now rehearsing how he's going to turn on the charm.

More on the weekend, Will's antics and how I've aged three years in the last three weeks coming soon, in addition to something about this sweet little girl I'm holding right now.

Elmo Saves the Day

It's hot here, as I imagine it is most everywhere, and this is how Will remedied the situation.

There's not much that a cheapo Elmo sprinkler won't fix. Except maybe our brown grass and that one hanging basket that bit the dust over our weekend away.

Laura and I sweated it out on the deck under the umbrella for as long as we could but we had to call it a day after a half hour or so.

It appears that I've been neglecting to write about her and my excuse is that she doesn't really do much yet that's write aboutable (new phrase there). She is, however, becoming quite the chatterbox and has even laughed a little a few times. I'm pretty sure that she's the only person in this household who finds me very funny, excluding myself. More on her coming soon, though.

Almost Heaven

While we're on the subject of WV . . .

Will loves going to West Virginia for many reasons:

Fishing, for example. This is his first time fishing. He went with his papaw to the pond in the holler (yes, it's really a word to us--I actually just realized not that long ago that not everyone knows what a "holler" is--it's a hollow, in case you were wondering) above the house.

These were taken at one of the ponds on my cousin's property. And if you look closely, you'll notice that Will has a Hello Kitty bandaid on his forehead. After an unplanned run-in with a concrete flowerpot, he insisted on it even when offered something a little less pink. I've always liked men in pink, regardless, and find the juxtaposition of fishing boots and Hello Kitty utterly charming.

When we were home in May, Mom took Will to the greenhouse and he picked out some marigolds. Will has a wee bit of a love affair with greenhouses, especially ones where he gets to see tractors and other heavy equipment.

Speaking of tractors, this is where Will is happiest. I've never been around a little one who loves moving vehicles of any sort any more than Will does.

As much as Will loves being outside and having room to roam out in the country, I suspect that these are the things at home that he likes the most:

(This is, obviously, a small sampling of our family . . . apologies to everyone I had to leave out for the sake of brevity. . .)