She's growing up!

Three nights ago I was awaken by the feeling that I was over sleeping for something. I looked at the clock and the bright red numbers read 2:35. I laid there and let the digits sink into my sleep fogged mind. 2:35? How could it be 2:35? I had put Layla to bed at 10 pm after a fussy 2 hours and hadn't been up to tend to her since. Had she cried and I not heard? Had Tim gone to take care of her and I didn't notice? That couldn't be possible because I'm a light sleeper and hear everything. I looked at the monitor and didn't hear or see anything. I tore the sheet off of me and bolted for the nursery. I put my face close to hers and immediately heard the reassuring sighs and baby grunts.

She was asleep.

She had slept 4 hours and 35 minutes and did not call for me once. I replayed the night's events over and over to make sure my timing wasn't off. I reached the same conclusions and calculations over and over again. It was really 4 hours and 35 minutes.

I sat down in the glider to contemplate what to do. Was it possible she was sick? Do I wake her up and feed her? Take her temperature? Say hello?

Ten minutes later I decided to leave her be and go back to bed.
She finallly woke up to eat 15 minutes later , yielding a grand total of 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Wow!

My life for the past 8 weeks has been segmented into three hour blocks. Since the time she was born she was waking every three hours from the start of the last feeding, and now she is able to do five in a row!

She's growing up.

I've also had to start the inevitable task of packing away clothes that she has outgrown.

Time has wings.

From the beginning....

Make a Smilebox slideshow

The Horror!

Yesterday we made it through our first appointment without daddy. I made an appointment for Layla on Wednesday for Thursday afternoon because she was exhibiting some signs of re.flux. She had been gagging, becoming agitated at the end of feeds, and spitting up a little bit more than usual. I consulted Dr. Google first, and Dr. Google said that it may be re.flux so I called the nurse after hours and had her set us up for an appointment.

More on that later, but first I’d like to record what happened before the dr’s appointment.
I got dressed first, then woke Layla up for her bath. While I was getting ready my sister called me so I chatted with her while getting prepared. I put the baby in the tub and started to bathe her. I diverted my eyes for a millisecond to put more soap on her washcloth.

Nothing on God’s green earth could’ve prepared me for the horror I was about to witness. My heart dropped into my stomach. I stifled inappropriate language—I’m a mommy you know—so consequently what escaped from my mouth was a strangled scream. My sister yells, “What happened? What’s going on??!”

I tried to focus and my mind started to process the scene before me.

She had pooped in the tub.

I could not articulate to my sister what had happened fast enough I guess, so she proceeded to ask over and over what happened.

Layla starts to wail, as if the poop fairy had snuck into her restroom and flung a tablespoon of poop into her bath water just to sabotage her day.

I explained to my sister what happened, and explained to Layla that she had done it; it was her poop.

I didn’t know what to do. My sister calmly explained the steps I should take to make things right, then we hung up so I could get to work. Over the next 10 minutes I was in a swirl of diapers, baby wipes, Clorox wipes, and plenty of hot water.
By the end of it all I was covered in either bath water or sweat. I couldn’t tell which was which.

I was so afraid we would be late to our appointment. I HATE being late, especially for appointments.
*Mommy lesson numero uno. Babies are not like regular people. NEVER bathe a baby right before leaving the house. See, I’m pretty obsessive and I know it takes 7 minutes for Layla’s bath, and 9 minutes for a bath+shampoo. I only allowed that amount of time, which was silly of me in hindsight.
All in all the day was salvaged.

Here she is at happier times.

She likes to try to catch the water in her mouth when I use her "shower" on her. He he!

Ok, so back to the dr’s appointment. Dr. Wal.lace listened to my concerns, examined the baby, and determined that she did have some early signs of re.flux, but there really isn’t much we should do just yet. We have to wait until her symptoms are more significant.
She also said that she has a little bit of baby acne, which most babies get and will clear up in a few weeks on its own, and a little bit of ecz.ema on her chin. I was horrified when she said ecz.ema. I had already suspected that’s what was on her chin because I had a 30 minute consultation with Dr. Google a few nights ago, but I was hoping for better news. My nephew had it bad and it made him miserable. He was constantly scratching, and it ruined the color and texture of his skin. It doesn’t always get that bad, so I’m hoping it stays localized on her chin and then goes away. Dr. Wall.ace says to keep it dry and put Vaseline on it.

We’ll just have to wait and see.
The waiting. The horrible waiting.
Anyway, she put on another lb of baby fat in about a week. She is currently 9lbs!

Mommy

Next week Layla and I will go visit a real school. We are visiting my old school and coworkers after our dr's appointment.

Layla and I do "school" every day. We have circle time. We read books. We do songs. We play games. We do tummy time.
We are a classroom of two.
Tim says, "Rae, isn't it a little too early for school?"
I say, " A little."
He says, "Hmmm. You miss teaching."
I say, "Hmmm."
It's official. I miss work. I think about work and my thoughts are nostalgic. I miss my school, my coworkers, my kids, my classroom.
I miss being a person responsible for instilling education, values, and love for life in a child times twenty. I miss being involved, intertwined, mingled.

But.

I look into the eyes of my daughter and I know that I am instilling education, values, and love for life in a child. She smiles, and I know that I am loved -- times twenty.

We are important to each other. We give each other meaning; life.

In the words of a woman from my due date club, "At the end of life, no one ever wishes they had worked more."

Nor will I.

Insightful.

Daddy

Layla Grace is a very lucky girl.
If only I were so lucky (insert wistful sigh here).

She loves her daddy, and he loves her. It makes me love her daddy even more when I see what a wonderful bond the two of them have together.

I love watching them play. I love how he encourages her during "tummy time".
I love how she wakes from her nap, however short it may be, when he comes home from work and hears his voice. She trades her normal kitten cry for a shriller cry that says, "You're home! Come pick me up!"?
I love how he picks her up during those cries each day and asks her loudly, "What IS your major malfunction?!"
And in a sleepy voice at 2am on the monitor I hear, "What...is yer...major.....malfunction?"

(A quote from some army movie. I liked the movie, but I can't remember the title)

I can only imagine what her response will be to him when she's two years old and he has to discipline her. I have a feeling that, in her toddler voice, she'll be quoting that same army movie.