This is the awkward part when the new followers (welcome, by the way!) open the email or click on the link to this, my newest post since last Friday’s post was Freshly Pressed, and find out that this blog is essentially a (dum dum DAH)…
Don’t worry; I won’t be offended if you unsubscribe. But the gym post is proof that I do talk about things other than diapers and that my vocabulary isn’t limited to adorbs, so I do hope you’ll stick around. But today we are going to talk about babies, so sit tight.
Miss C is four months old! What what! And ohmahgosh, you guys, she is The Best. I have tried to eat her several times because she is just so unbearably cute, but luckily B has stopped me before I get too far in preparing all the mise en place to go with her. I think I can now officially say that she sleeps through the night; I know I’ve been saying it for awhile, but I was always tempting fate by doing so. However, now that she’s 16 weeks old and she’s been sleeping in solid eight hour stretches since she was at eight weeks, I’d say it’s a habit. And boy oh boy, are we ever appreciative. Now, there are some caveats. She does sleep swaddled and she does fall asleep at the breast 99.5% of the time, so those are some habits that she will eventually have to be weaned from. However, for now, we’re going to let them slide.
Napping is another story. She is usually good about taking five to six 25- to 30-minute naps each day, but lately she’s become so enamored with everything that’s going on around her that she puts up a bit of a fight when we try to put her down. But hey, it’s my thinking that as long as she’s sleeping through the night, she can pretty much do whatever she wants during the day, short of inviting other babies for a cocktail hour at 5PM every day. Upper hand much?
Here’s the part where I bang the wow-they-grow-so-fast drum once again. She is huge! There is such a black and white difference between a baby at four weeks old and a baby at four months old. At four weeks, she was still in her chopped liver state of being, as my mother affectionately calls it. She moved in slo-mo, didn’t interact with me unless you count feeding times as interaction, and still kind of looked like an insect. On her playmat, there is a little dangling monkey thing that I remember trying really hard to get her to engage with when she was tiny. She had no interest in it, obviously, and I attached some loco postpartum ennui to that toy. Now she not only plays with the monkey but can’t get enough of it. It’s bittersweet. She chats with us when we talk to her and gives us gigantic smiles and giggles when she first sees us when she wakes in the morning.
She has also discovered screens. Whereas I used to watch TV or watch YouTube when I was feeding her, I hesitate to turn them on now as she quickly gets fixated on them. I’ve always heard that babies between birth and two years should not be exposed to screens, so I’m going to try to keep her from them. That’s a pretty tall order, but we’re going to at least try.
She is pretty much the most squishy, snuggly little gal you could possibly conjure up. She gets in good and cozy with us when we make a family sandwich. By the way, family sandwiches are the best kind. Om nom nom to a mommy, a daddy, and a bebe.