Tub

Rowan loves baths. Loves being in the water, waving her arms and legs, doesn't mind getting her face wet or even "going under". Just like her Daddy, she is a water baby. She'll sit in there until the water is cold, and not fuss a bit.

But a little advice: it's a good idea to put in your ear plugs before you take her out.

Abundance

Tomorrow my father is coming to pick up me and the kid (dog is staying at the in-laws'), and we're off to a wedding, and then 10 days at his house in Bismarck, with excursions to visit the GG's (Great Grandparents). So tonight, I packed.

Oy vey. (Am I allowed to say that?)

Thanks to the incredible generosity of my sister-in-law (who recently mailed another 3 boxes of clothes) and gifts from friends, Rowan has enough clothes to outfit the entire state of North Dakota. And maybe Pennsylvania, too.

And me? Yeah, I've always been a clothes-horse. And the fear of no Old Navy in State College forced me to pick up a couple of tops and pairs of capris. You know, because I'll be deprived of inexpensive, trendy clothes that are made in China. (Yes, there's one in Altoona, 45 minutes away. I've already staked it out.)

Plus, with the cloth diapers, disposables (for when we're not at home), burp rags, play mats, blankies, nuks, vitamins, gripe water and wipes, well... let's just say it's a good thing I brought the big suitcase.

And I'm only taking stuff for 10 days. Yikes.

Looks like we'll be mailing stuff to our new home. Maybe we should have bought a bigger house?

Squawk!

Squawk! from Ronica and Vimeo.

Yeah, I'm having fun with the Vimeo. This was taken last week. She makes strange noises like this all the time, including when sleeping.

Yep, she's her mom's daughter.

Nature Girl

Nature Girl from Ronica and Vimeo.

Our little girl loves to be outside, and walking up and down the sidewalk is sometimes the only thing that calms her down. Yesterday was a beautiful day, so we spent some time lying under a tree staring up at the leaves. She has also recently discovered her fist, so it was an exciting time, to say the least!

I have no idea what we'll do come January.

Birthday Gift

I got this for my birthday.

Not perfume. No jewelry. Not a new outfit.

And I don't care.

Yeah, I'm a Mom. It's not all about me anymore.

This thing totally rocks. She loves it. She lays under it, squeaking and waving her arms and looking at herself in the mirror until she passes out from exhaustion.

I sit nearby, eating chocolate, reading blogs, folding diapers, watching TV, and not trying to soothe a baby who's crying and fussing for no apparent reason.

At least today. (I make no promises about tomorrow.)

Oh, and did I tell you the best part? The mat is machine washable (for those spit up stains. She's already christened it. Twice.)




PS: Thanks for all the birthday wishes!

I Look Like a Monkey, and I Sing Like One, Too

Yesterday was another one of them. Hell days. She started the night before, and carried it over into Sunday. 2 naps, 15 minutes each. The rest of the time? Yelling and crying. Lots of it. (Some from me, admittedly.)

She finally went to sleep around 11, and I knew, I *knew* that tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

After all, it's my birthday.

I woke up, peered over the end of the bed into the portable crib, expecting a sweet smile and a lovely nursing session, followed by another hour of sleep curled up together in the big bed.

And I got a rude awakening.

No smile.

Oh crap... I thought.

Yep. She's now got the stamina for two full days.

I think I cried just about as many tears as she did.

But, finally she settled down around 3 PM and we all jumped in the car to drive to Fargo to pick up the Jimmy, newly and very expensively repaired, and to go out to Johnny Carino's for my birthday dinner. I got a good start on the baby bolero I'm knitting for her (thanks, Flare!), and she was an angel, most of the time (except for about 5 minutes around Hillsboro, but I don't blame her. That sugar beet plant stinks.)

We got home, and I had to use my "crank the music and sing really loudly right in her face making up the words you don't know" trick for about a half an hour, but she's sleeping again.

I think I subbed too many days in music classrooms, if all that calms her is loud music and me singing my heart out.

Too bad I didn't get a karaoke machine for my birthday...

Following Zeb the Zebra

Following Zeb the Zebra from Ronica and Vimeo.

My first video upload--I hope this works. This is Rowan with her new Zebra toy. She loves to watch the black and white patterns on the bottom of its feet!

Meltdown

Our little girl is having more good days than bad days now, and has strings of 3 or 4 days in a row when she takes naps, is happy when she's active, and is generally no trouble at all. She's beginning to smile, follows us with her eyes, loves staring at the TV and the pink star that hangs from the bouncy chair, and is "cooing" (though to me it sounds more like squeaks, squawks, and some "Maaaagghhooowaaaghhoooiiikk????") Her GI tract is figuring itself out, and we no longer dread the one big poop every three days that is thick and sticky--she's now more regular and "looser". This is a very good thing. (And yes, I have become the typical new mom that discusses her kid's poop on a regular basis. Sorry.)

But she still has bad days.

When we'd talk to our family from Madison, they thought we were exaggerating. "Oh, all babies have times like that," they'd say. "Babies cry, it's what they do!" and "But she's good most of the time, you just have to be patient when she has a fussy time."

Dr. B and I knew that they had no idea what kind power Rowan has.

As she screamed for the third hour in a row, Dr. B would say to me, "she's not a nuclear reactor. She has to wear out sometime and fall asleep." Most days, he's right. But not always.

Now, I am back in North Dakota staying with my inlaws, and Dr. B has begun his new job in Pennsylvania. Rowan was great on the trip despite the issues we had, and had several good days after that, leading my inlaws to believe that she was a wonderful, easy baby.

Then it came.

Black Wednesday.

Or, as Jean called it, "The Day From Hell."

Up at 8:30, she had a fussy morning. Lots of crying.

No nap.

More crying.

Lunch time.

Again with the crying.

Coffee with Jean's school gang, and again, no nap.

And more crying.

Afternoon. We were dead. All three of us were in desperate need of a nap, but no dice. More crying. No nap.

"She can't go on like this!" Jean said. "She's got to wear out. I am beat. I don't know how she does it."

We drove around. And around. And around. So long, in fact, that she got hungry again and we had to go home and feed her.

Late afternoon. Dick came home. "What have you been doing to my granddaughter?" he joked.

"You're lucky I like you, or I'd hand her off to you and go to the movies. And take a nap there." I said.

Again, more crying and no nap.

Supper. More crying. No sleeping.

Coffee. (Decaf). Ditto.

Dilly Bar. More of the same.

She finally conked out at 11 PM.

Jean, the next day, in a phone call to her son:

"You're wrong. I'm pretty sure she is a nuclear reactor."

But now, at least, I have an ally. Jean understands. And when people say, "oh, she's such a good baby!" I have someone to exchange "if you only knew" looks with.



*Note: after an "episode", she will usually have a few good days. She made it until Monday this time, but at least when she was awake she wasn't crying this time. Though she was up from 3 AM to 10 PM.

Maybe she'll be a doctor. Seems like she could handle the hours during residency. At least once every 3 or 4 days.