Today was the first day that Genevieve actually played with a toy. Up until now she would just stare at things and watch as others waved toys at her. Today, I placed her under her little musical gym and positioned her so that she could see the toys. After a few seconds of looking askance at the toys, my daughter spastically moved her arm. To her surprise, she came into contact with one of the hanging stars. The star moved and made some noise. This totally shocked her. Instantly her head whipped around to stare at the offending pendant. After another pause she attempted to swipe at the star again. No such luck. Her motor control isn't quite that good and she missed it by a few inches. I was tempted to taunt her about this and show her my manual dexterity by tapping the star but I thought my in your face parenting style would probably be lost on her. After a few more practice swings she was able to hit the star fairly regularly and after a few more swings she was completely bored by this and began to cry.
At least she is progressing in the right direction. According to the baby book she is supposed to be able to lift her head, roll over, play sonatas. In fact, according to the book by her third month, she is supposed to have started composing her first symphony. Maybe we should not have bought The Mozart Guide to Parenting.
That probably sounds odd but it's true. Up until now I felt like a caretaker for this demi-human. All she did was cry. She cried about being hungry, being messy being cold. That was all she did. However, in the last few days she has started smiling.
She's still not very good at it. Sometimes, when she attempts a smile, her forehead gets furrowed and her eyebrows will arch as she gets frustrated that her lips and cheeks aren't contracting in the way she expected them to. She still cries. In fact, she still cries almost all the time, but now when she is in a lull you can look directly into her eyes and make a cooing sound. If she is in the right mood and all the nerves are firing in the right order, the corners of her lips will turn up and her lower lip will drop a little bit into a toothless grin.
The first time I saw this a chill ran through my body and I thought, "I can handle this. She is going to eventually be a nice little girl." Then she started wailing again.
On an unrelated note she went from 9:00 PM until 6:00 AM without waking up. I think she must be getting some rest for something spectacular this weekend. Hopefully it will happen when Beryl is baby sitting tomorrow.
The relatively peaceful events of Sunday night were not repeated last night. She was back to her old every three hours routine. And we were back to playing rock, paper scissor to determine whose turn it was. I'm pretty sure this was some kind of infant practical joke that she was planning for weeks.
Continuing on Danny's theme of baby mathematics, here is another equation for you: large explosive sounds eminating from baby + a large wet spot on baby's outfit from waist to toes = an immediate bath. That's right folks, your favorite little poop machine has done it again. It seems that the current diapers we are using cannot withstand the G-forces coming out of Genevieve and we had a major blowout this morning. It was so powerful that it woke her from a deep slumber. I'm not kidding about the mess going all of the way to her toes. It took me a few minutes to come up with a game plan on how to get her clean while befouling the fewest number of additional items.
Genevieve was unconcerned throughout and gave me her usual, "Hey, it's not my problem" look. I think the next time this happens I will take a picture and show it to her future dates.
A very odd thing happened last night. I roused myself out of a dream and glanced over at the alarm clock and groggily read the luminous digits as 3:30 AM. I did some arithmetic in my head and figured out that Genevieve had been sleeping since around 10:00 PM and had actually been fed at 9:00 PM. That would mean that she slept five and a half hours. Up until now the longest she had slept was four hours and that had only happened twice. This must be some mistake. I must have dozed through some traumatic event and Carrie had already fed the beast.
I roused Carrie and asked her if she had fed the baby. "No. What time is it?" was her reply. I quickly explained that there were no sounds coming out of the baby monitor and that she hadn't eaten. We had a quick conference. I was elected to go check on her to make sure all was right. I peeked in the room and saw her little chest moving in the rhythmic motions of slumber. I took out a bottle and began to warm it. Surely, this must be some kind of new feint. She is just waiting for us to let down our guard and then she'll pounce. I was going to be prepared. I crept back into bed and we had another conference. Should we wake the baby and feed her? Let her sleep? How could she have slept this long? Carrie was determined to get more sleep. I, however, could not. I tossed and turned expecting at any moment there would be some cry that would require me to get up. After a few minutes of this Carrie grouchily said, "If you can't sleep why don't you check on her again." I snuck back into her room and again saw the breathing. Maybe she was sick. A quick scan with the ear thermometer (super cool toy by the way) showed that her temp was normal. Apparently my jostling was disturbing her as she sputtered and startled. Startling babies are really quite funny. They gasp and throw their arms out as wide as possible with their fingers splayed. Even though she startled she didn't wake up. I breifly considered waking her up by crying in some sort of cosmic irony but my better judgement got to me.
I gave up on guessing when she would rouse and went back to bed. At 4:30 AM she woke up for food. Carrie was pissed because she figured that by the time the meal was over Genevieve would be up for the rest of the day. However, this was not so. After eating, she slept again until just before 7:00.
We aren't going to get too hopeful about this. It could just be a fluke, but then again it could be a sign that the tempest is over and sleep may once again return to our frazzled lives.
Genevieve doesn't like drinking cold milk from the bottle. So we always warm her bottles. However, one time we were in a hurry so we didn't warm the bottle at all. Boy was that a mistake. After much wrestling with her she drank the five cold ounces and proceeded to shiver for the next twenty minutes. We felt terrible and never did that again. However, today I've discovered an interesting law of babies.
The acceptable temperature of the milk is inversely proportional to the decibel level of the crying. Consequently a screaming baby is much more likely to drink a colder bottle than a calm one. This usually manifests itself as us heating a bottle but due to the increasing volume of our daughter we forgo the proper bottle temperature and just hope to plug the noise maker. So far this has not failed.
During our mini-blizzard we tried showing her all the snow outside but she wasn't interested. As far as she is concerned it is probably always doing that. We thought about putting her into her little snow suit and taking her out for a bit, but decided against it. We though wind chill down to -1 was no place for a two month old.
In the heart of every little girl lives a middle aged man.
Maybe not every little girl but certainly ours. If you don't believe me, check out these facts:
She is losing her hair
She has indigestion and acid reflux (not just the purview of lip-synching teen idols)
She is incredibly flatulent
She's overweight
She wheezes when she exerts her self though usually she only exerts her self when eating
After a meal she likes to let out a large belch
If we prop her up in her boppy after eating she will sit there and rub her belly
The gripe water seems to be working. Last night she went 4 hours between feedings for three feedings in a row. She also managed to sleep the entire time between feedings. We are going to have to get readjusted to this schedule as we are automatically waking up every three hours, but I think we can deal.
Also, last night at 2:30, I had another pooptastrophe. Both I and the baby are alright but there were casualties. Four diapers, 2 dry downs, 1 changing pad cover, her onesie and sleeper. Every time I thought she was finished, I would start to clean her but it kept coming. Just like in the horror movies where you think you've killed the zombie but he keeps getting up.
I don't know if we've made this clear but Genevieve has been keeping us up all night for the past few nights. She eats about every three hours but in between feedings she is cranky and fussy. The term colic has been thrown about. Perhaps in an act of pure desperation or possibly due to just sheer exhaustion we've decided to try some new age advice.
Carrie has changed her diet and is no longer eating dairy, fish, vegetables or foods with the letter 'R' in their name. We have also bought a European herbal concoction for the baby. The active ingredients are ginger, anise and methadone.
If this doesn't work, I've got a bottle of Witherspoon and Sons Revitalizing and Hair Growth Tonic. I think I'm supposed to rub that on her feet three times a day. Though, I'm not sure why we want to give her hairy feet.
I've discovered the secret to changing her diapers. It is very similar to the fire swamp from The Princess Bride. As a precursor to any blast there is a popping sound. When you hear this noise you've got to be quick. With a deft hand you can avoid the spray. For the more advanced diaperer you can even block the stream with the current dirty diaper. I think I might be able to handle this.
If you are wondering about the ROUSs, frankly, I don't believe they exist.
I found myself sitting on the beach under the shade of a palm tree sipping a mai-tai brought to me by an indigenous bar tender. I watched as waves lapped at the shore and sea birds were cawing and diving into the ocean off in the distance. Not a cloud was in the sky. From out of nowhere a pervasive rumbling filled the air. I looked back towards the center of the island and could see smoke billowing out of the island's volcano. The Fire-god must be angry. The sky soon filled with soot and sulfurous ash as the rumbling increased in intensity. The rumbling began to rise in tone. It soon became more like a wail and the Polynesian landscape began to melt around me. Soon I realized, I was not relaxing on some unknown south pacific island. I was actually huddled under my sheets and the rumbling had turned into the tremulous cries of my month old daughter. Fire-god indeed, more like a poop demon. How could someone so small make so much noise?
Carrie had been checking on her since 1:30 AM and it was now 4:17. She had been fed, changed, fed again, burped, pacified, burped again and fed. What could possibly be wrong? I decided to go investigate. By decided, I mean that Carrie pushed me and said, "It's your turn. I've had enough." Usually we are better about dividing up the work but I apparently slept through most of the trauma last night.
I crossed the hall to her doors. I could feel the intensity of the screams as they pierced the night. I have no clue how my parents sleep through this. The screams are so intense that her whole body turns crimson and she is covered in sweat. It must be really hard to shout this loud.
I lift her frantic form out of the crib and place her over my shoulder. One hand supports her bottom while the other pats and rubs her back. I pace the room trying to comfort her. Eventually she stops crying long enough for me to try to determine the problem.
Dirty Diaper check....Negative.
Hungry....Negative
Temperature....Nominal.
Just plain not tired.....Bingo!!!
This child is going to be the death of me. Yesterday she woke up at 4am and cried periodically until about 6am when I gave up on trying to pacify her and just woke up for the day. Today, this wasn't going to happen. My mind planned. I tried the standard approach, swaddling. I wrapped her so tightly in the blanket that her arms were pinned at her sides. Her eyes were wide as she looked accusingly at me. I laid her back into her crib, turned out the light and waited. I crawled onto the day bed and hoped.
After two minutes, I thought I was home free and that I could soon return to sleep. But then they began. Genevieve doesn't just turn on the fire engine like a light switch. She has to warm up the pipes before she can really get going.
Stage 1 - Whimpering
She emits little cries on and off for one second. They don't sound like she is serious about the whole crying ordeal. She, in fact, often falls asleep between the cries. Sometimes this is as far as it will get. Sometimes she'll just pass out and stay out. This time, no such luck.
Stage 2 - Pre-crying
These last quite a bit longer and the pauses are less frequent. This stage is a precursor for trouble. During this state, if you comfort her quickly by shoving a pacifier into her mouth or rubbing her back, she might drop back into stage one and fall back asleep. However, if you let this continue, she'll just work herself into stage three.
Stage 3 - Crying
This is a constant infant-only cry. It is hard to describe, but the strangest part about this is the complete absence of tears. Infants don't tear when they cry. That doesn't start for a few more months yet. At this stage you are in trouble. She has decided that she is upset and is committed to being awake. You've only got a few minutes of this before stage four commences so you better work fast. I picked her up and rocked her. Comforted her. Shushed her. Then I checked her diaper. Uh-oh...dirty. Dirty diapers at stage one or two can be difficult to change but at stage three they are really hard. As soon as you lay her on the changing table during stage three she switches to stage four.
Stage 4 - Wailing
This is when her body really turns red and the screams rise in intensity. This is the classic crying baby that cries all the air out of its lungs and then has to pause to take a ragged inhalation to continue the crying. There is often a few choked coughs in there. What makes changing the diaper so difficult at this time is that she often makes her entire body rigid. In order to clean her I need her legs to be loose so I can use the wipes. I usually have to wait for the inhalations which means I have to suffer through 20 - 30 second ear-piercing wails waiting for the 3 second interlude.
The story has a happy ending. The diaper is eventually changed. Her cries subside. I wearily crawl back into my bed. She even managed to sleep until around 7:30 before starting the cycle over again.
and a helluva engineer. Or maybe I'm just passed out in my crib. You decide. Carrie's father gave us this mobile. She is absolutely amazed by it and can watch it for hours. However, after the first 35 minutes the Georgia Tech fight song starts to grate on your nerves.
For those that are wondering why we haven't posted pictures in a few days it is due to the fact that we are having technical difficulties. We have been hoping for something that is posed as opposed to all the candid shots we've been taking. Let's just say that our subject has not been very cooperative.
The photoshoots that we've setup have ended with subpar photos and lots of crying.
Judging by the sounds Genevieve makes I think that my daughter must be in some sort of feral state. I don't think we're so much raising our daughter as we are raising Wild Kingdom. When feeding her at times you are hard pressed to remember that you are in a nursery and not in a menagerie. However, her animal sounds are always amusing.
Here are the 4 most common sounds we hear:
pig - Just before and during feedings she makes these grunting sounds quite like a little pig. In fact sometimes we call her our little piggy. This one is my favorite as it sounds really silly.
owl - I'm not really sure when this one started or what provokes it but she makes some weird hooting noises.
cat - When she is in her pre-crying state (oh yes, there are stages to crying more on that another day). She makes a yowling sound like a slightly injured alley cat looking for some dinner. The first time I heard this I was sure that Carrie had traded our baby in for a cat at the ASPCA.
goat - This was the first noise that we noticed but when she really gets going in her wailing she starts to make this trilling noise. That quickly turns into a stuttering wail which sounds exactly like a little goat.
For those who don't find scatalogical stories particularly amusing, you might want to skip this entry. However for those of you that find our hardships amusing, I urge you to read on.
Babies that are only fed breast milk tend to have very loose stool. So loose in fact that it is primarily liquid. In the beginning she was making poopie diapers all the time. As she has grown older and her sphincter has grown stronger she can hold it in until the pressure overcomes the seal and what erupts forth can only be described euphemistically as "blasting off."
When she is wearing her diaper and laying in the crib it is amusing to watch as you hear this massive explosion being muffled by a few layers of baby clothing. If you are holding her while she is being fed, you can feel the shockwaves ripple through the fabric. It is so powerful sometimes, that I swear she has been lifted up from the force. Baby diapers are designed to hold little blue cups of water poured gently into their center. Or so the commercials would have you believe. They were not designed to contain waste water shot out of a high pressure cannon. The force can cause the seals to blow out either around the legs or waist. I can tell you from experience that this isn't a pleasant experience as you don't notice until it has soaked through what she is wearing and onto what you were wearing. eeew.
But that isn't what I came to tell you about tonight. Nope. What I've decided to chronicle was worse. Way worse. Changing a baby's diaper is like cleaning a loaded gun with the safety off. It is dangerous and likely to cause catastrophe. More often than not it just results in a few extra messy diapers. However, if you time it just right, you can make an incredible mess. If you've ever put your thumb on the end of a garden hose you'd know that you can make the water shoot pretty far. The same holds true in the world of diaper changes when using a baby wipe and the countdown clock reaches 0. A blast off at this inopportune time causes a geyser to shoot laterally bathing every item on the changing table in filth.
At noon on a weekend this is a disgusting inconvenience. At 4 AM on a work night this is devastating. What could have just been a 40 minute feeding/diaper change has turned into an hour and a half long nightmare. I had to use a sponge on the walls.
Lest you think that I am making a big deal about some statistically insignificant occurrence, this has happened three times. She is only four weeks old. This didn't start until she was two weeks old. I think the next few months are going to be like some mad Gallagher show gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Maybe instead of changing pads we need a painters tarp.
Genevieve had her one month check-up today, and she now weighs in at 10 pounds, 4 ounces. That's a gain of about a pound a week, so I guess she likes her food. She is also 2 inches longer, and the doctor says that she's doing great and is very healthy. All of the nurses and support staff fussed over her and told her she's absolutely adorable. They probably tell that to all the babies.
The doctor did suggest that we give her gas relief drops 4 to 6 times a day. It sounds like a great idea to me. I've been worried many times that her pampers are going to explode.
When I do the laundry I've noticed little hairs on the clothing before I put them in the washing machine. When I change the sheets I notice hairs there too. Before you jump to any conclusions about the stress causing me to lose my hair; allow me to clarify. While I certainly am losing my share of hair on my pillows every night, I'm talking about Genevieve's clothing and sheets.
She was born with a thick head of hair but over the past month her hair has been getting thinner. She seems to be losing hair at a pretty constant rate. At first I thought it was just her head getting larger and the hair follicles spreading out, but now I'm certain she is losing hair. My first thought was that maybe she could use some baby Rogaine, but I didn't see it at the drug store. According to the doctor this is normal. In fact, there is an amusing anecdote about Carrie's mother fretting about scrubbing off all of Carrie's hair as a child.
We have no clue what her hair will look like when this process is over, but I guess this isn't it. Also, it looks like her eyes are getting lighter. Her eyes have changed from slate grey to a lighter grey. Carrie said the process can take up to a year before we know her final color. Between the hair and the eyes, I have no clue what this frankenbaby will look like.
On December 30, Genevieve had her Baby Naming ceremony at Danny's parents' house. Her Hebrew name is Gittel Adara, which means "good beauty" or something like that. While the last part is definitely accurate, the first part remains to be seen.
My parents and Grandmother were in town all last week, so thankfully they were able to attend the naming. I was very surprised when they left to find that Genevieve was still here. I think my father held her more in one week than I have in one month.
Speaking of one month, her one month birthday is Thursday. As cliche as it sounds, it really does feel like she was just born yesterday. Maybe what my parents say is true, that kids grow up before you know it. Even if that is the case, I still wish we could fast forward to the day when she can change her own diapers and fix her own meals. Sleeping through the night wouldn't be bad, either.
Stay tuned for her one month doctor's visit this Friday, when we start her immunizations. I hope she's better with needles than her father...
