Our little daughter is already three weeks old. In some ways, it feels like it’s been an eternity. But at the same time, it’s hard to believe she’s this old already.
So far, we’ve hit quite a few milestones, the least of which is her weird ability to get cuter by the day, even when it seems impossible for the child to get any more adorable. We finally managed to get her staying awake a little more in the day and sleeping a little more at night. She’s made eye contact with us and smiled while doing so, although most literature dismisses babies’ early smiles as gas. (We’re pretty sure we know the difference, however, as Maddi is the queen of bodily functions and has a completely different smile for gas. We know this because she farts like a trucker after a burrito-eating contest.) She’s held her head up from a lying-down position and reached (if a bit spastically) for her mobile. She’s tracking things like mad with her eyes. Her oeuvre as a vocalist has expanded from an all-crying repertoire to include some very cute cooing noises. She’s even stayed home alone with a grandparent a few times while Chris and I escaped enjoyed some “alone-time.”
Of course there are a few tradeoffs to having such an active and alert wee one. One of those is that she sleeps but a precious few hours a day. And those hours are spent multitasking (read: eating and pooping) which means that while she may be getting some well-needed rest, Mommy and Daddy are not.
Another is that she knows all too well when she is not being held or fed, and if she is being held, she knows whether or not whoever is holding her is still capable of accomplishing day-to-day tasks such as eating or washing bottles. If the holder is able to pull off something as outrageous as taking her vitamins or checking his email, the holdee will commence her piteous wailing until the holder either feeds her or manages to amuse her sufficiently.
Naturally, the holdee is never sufficiently amused if the holder happens to be Mommy, as there are obviously two large bottles of delicious, comforting milk conveniently situated mere inches from where she is being held.
Even when the holder is someone else, Maddi will be reminded of her bottles if that person is female or has any significant pectoral muscles at all.
Thus, even when there has been extra help about (a.k.a. the grandmothers), I have consistently posted late, held my bladder well past the point of comfort, and sometimes failed to eat my three squares a day. And Maddi has gained quite a bit of weight.
We’re not sure how much because going to the health unit to weigh her would require weaning her for an hour, but let it suffice to say that some of the clothing she swam in three weeks ago is now straining at the seams around her sausagey little body, fitting her about as well as my prepregnancy skinny jeans now fit over my newly renovated hips.
That, and some of her diapers alone weigh more than she did when she made her grand entrance.
So, needless to say, we are very much looking forward to what we hope, hope, HOPE will be Maddi’s next amazing and adorable milestones: Sleeping more than an hour at a time, especially during the night, and being OK with Mommy and Daddy doing things other than feeding her.
And here it is — our picky little princess’ three-week picture.
