Our Four-Month-Old…

…smiles for mommy and daddy. And any other person that smiles at her.

…still loves her Mr. Sunshine toy, even if he’s mute. Again.

…but thinks the most fascinating toys in the world are leaves on trees overhead and mommy or daddy’s hands. Hair is pretty fascinating too—on mom’s head or dad’s chest.

…is also obsessed with fabrics: feeling, holding, scrunching, tasting. We have video evidence of her tasting all stuffed animals handed to her, but blankets, burp cloths, cloth carriers, and mom’s shirts are also fair game.

…loves her cloth books (Who Do You See, Fuzzy Bee, and the monkey book from Cousin Paige) and, when she’s in the mood, her board book Brown Bear, Brown Bear. But appears more interested in figuring out how to turn the pages than the stories.

…still barely tolerates tummy time, but enjoys lying on her side and being held upright.

…can sit in a Bumpo chair, but would rather sit forward on mom’s lap or on the floor between mom’s legs.

…is getting bored with the floor activity gym and moans while on it. Or maybe she’s just moaning because she wants your attention since it’s her only solo-time activity.

…and yet she hasn’t figured out she can wiggle to a new toy when she gets bored.

…moans, coos, shrieks, ehs, ahs, and sometimes babbles, too. But doesn’t babble nearly as much as she did after spending a week with Grandma Marianne—I don’t know what they would talk about but Cate loved all that talking they did together.

…is quietly observant in any new situation, but will talk about it endlessly when we get home.

…is clearly happy when in her Nook. It will even calm her down during a crying fit. Dad calls it “her happy place.”

…is transitioning from cat-napping every 3–4 hours during the day, to taking longer naps in the morning and afternoon. But still naps in the bouncy chair. And still tolerates the swing for no more than ½-hour–1½-hours per week. Yes, week.

…will hold and explore your fingers while bottle-feeding. Although sometimes she’ll hold the bottle instead.

…will hold an object with both hands and is just beginning to pass a toy from one hand to the other. She also reaches out for toys and other objects she sees.

…watches objects that move in front of her from flying birds, to speeding cars, to fish at the pet store.

…has the fastest growing nails on the planet. Seriously, someone please alert the record books.

…is loved more than she can possibly imagine.

Update

Oh for the love! What a day it's been.

Doc declared the Peanut ginormous and said if she's over 9 lbs we need to seriously consider scheduling a c-section. Plus I still have no change in dilation/effacement. I spiraled into complete upset and couldn't initially figure out why—I came to the conclusion that a) it was not what I envisioned, b) I didn't like healing from the bikini-line scar of the ovarian cyst and didn't want to do that again while dealing with a new Peanut, and c) I was feeling massive guilt for gaining so much more than the “recommended” weight gain—the What to Expect book repeats over and over again this is the cause of large babies leading to c-section (reading that at 3 am was probably not helpful).


Scheduled sonogram this morning revealed:

· She's guestimated at around 7 1/2 lbs (give or take a pound she's still less than the c-section discussion). WOO HOO!

· She looks JUST LIKE Tim – especially in her mouth/chin! Even I can see it, and I never see that kind of thing. (I will try to get a moment with the scanner here at work to get the pics up.)

· She's practicing breathing.

· We also saw her grab the umbilical cord with one hand.

· The other hand stayed solidly by her face the whole time.

· Not only does she look like Tim but she also has fuzzy hair in all the same places Tim has (and doesn't have) hair. I will now tease him mercilessly about this.

· She is clearly, no doubt about it, a girl.

· And her heart has four beautiful (and clear like a textbook) chambers, and her bladder is full (because her kidneys are working), and all the rest is perfectly wonderful too.

· Oh…and the fact that they could get such wonderful pictures of her face means the doc is right and she is still NOT at all engaged.


And so I went from practically inconsolable (and unable to sleep and clearly overreacting) to bubbly and bouncy in the span of 12 hours—poor Tim.

Express Childbirth?

Tomorrow Tim and I will be attending a hospital-sponsored class entitled, “Childbirth Express.”

Wouldn’t it be lovely if that meant how-to-birth-a-child-expressly, instead of six-hour-crash-course-in-childbirth-because-your-husband’s-MBA-classes-conflict-with-regular-weekly-childbirth-classes?

I could get behind Express Birthing. It sounds like a good idea from where I’m sitting.

Peas?

Tim’s favorite vegetable in the world is peas. My feelings on peas are more in line with this guy’s.

I wonder what the Peanut will think of them…

Where Were You?

January 20, 2009. I was working from home. You should have seen the line of cars just outside our condo starting at 3:30 in morning! I didn’t. But Tim kept getting up hourly to report to me the lines of cars and then of people outside the metro. I’m glad I didn’t try to fight my way to work through any traffic; I enjoyed a quiet day at home, typesetting a project for work while watching the coverage on TV.

During the Watergate Hearings, I was a brand-new infant while my mom watched the coverage on TV. The no-name Peanut was still in my innards for this historic event. And Tim was there to help me capture it on film:

I Have a Proclivity for Dropping Stuff.

I recently read a childproofing article that seemed over-the-top for our immediate newborn needs. I’m not so worried about a burrito-bundled Peanut sticking anything into an outlet just yet, nor do I feel the need to cover all sharp furniture edges and corners with bumpers or safety padding. But this one stuck out: put a thick rug or carpet below the changing table. As the Computer Nook becomes the Baby Nook we will need to do something about the ceramic tile under the desk-about-to-become-a-changing-table.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by yet another item we still need (surprisingly), I’m actually enjoying window shopping the web.

Is this not adorable and in-theme? But, dear Target, what size is he?

This, on the other hand, I know is perfectly sized for our tile space. I wish web-view colors were true-to-life so I could see how well it matches my beloved animal prints.

Please, just don’t remind Tim that the area in question was once carpeted and it was my idea—after dropping bleach—to engage in the nightmare tile installation in front of the washer and dryer where I’m now about put an area rug. Thanks.

Peanut’s Too Kooky.

I’ve found something even more difficult than daycare decisioning.

Names.

Ugh. Why can’t she just tell us what her name is? Or like a Cabbage Patch doll, why can’t she just come with a pre-filled-in birth certificate? I was one of those rare girls that did not just immediately rename the doll; I faithfully used the name he or she came with. (That’s right, I had a male Cabbage Patch doll—can’t remember his name though…)

Tim likes very traditional, old-school names: nothing kooky or ethnic (unless of course it’s Irish). A lot of names that fit that criteria sound very “convent” to me. Although, as some friends recently pointed out, sounding “convent” is better than sounding “stripper.” My goal is to find a name that lands somewhere between the habit and the pole.

My personal criteria for a name are 1) nothing too popular and 2) nick-name-able. If you Google me with my maiden name I really am unique (even without my middle name!). If you Google my married name, not so much. I liked being the only me out there. I was always glad I wasn’t one of the Jen S, Jen D, Jen Fs of my youth who needed their last initial to differentiate themselves from all the others. On the other hand, until high-school I didn’t have a shortened/nick-named version of my name. I don’t know why that happened, but I was always Renée. My brother and sisters all had single-syllable variants of their names, but not me. It wasn’t until move-in day in college when my new roommate overheard my Kid sister call me “Ren” that anyone outside my immediate family started using it. I was thrilled! I don’t know what the Peanut will prefer—a full name or a nick-name—but I really want her to have the option.

So our collective name criteria:
• Traditional, somewhat old-school
• Not overly kooky or ethnic
• Not overly popular
• Nick-name-able
• Somewhere between nun’s habit and stripper’s pole

Yeah. We’ve got nothin’.

At this point they’re going to hand me the paperwork in the hospital and the next thing you know “Peanut” will be on her birth certificate and social security card. Assuming they even let us take her home, we still don’t have the mandated-by-law car seat.