Atomic Tonic

Niclas is totally beating me, though. I'm only dilated to a 2. He was dilated to at least 7 this morning, and that was before the eye drops.

We went to the ER last night, not because of the pregnant lady, but because at 10pm, Niclas returned from the bathroom, sat on the couch and said "I can't see. No vision." and I laughed hysterically like isn't that just The Funniest Thing. Except he couldn't see and because we have the internet at our disposal, I was able to type "sudden vision loss" into google and FREAK OURSELVES OUT. Retinal Detachment. Glaucoma. RETINAL DETACHMENT.

So we went to the ER to see about his vision loss and ice-pick headache. It was a wash, basically, except the Doctor on call told him to go see a man about his eyes in the morning. Which brings us up to this morning and the 3 hours we spent in the Eye Doctor's office and the little chart we found in the office while waiting (so much waiting) that had the handy dilation chart on the bottom. It showed that his pupils were dilated to 7 and didn't show that the headache was OUT OF CONTROL. Then the eye doctor put some drops in to dilate him even more and flashed a lot of lights around the place.

Turns out, he's got a migraine and we're now sitting around in the dark. No, I mean literally. All the shades are drawn, lights are off. The headache is possibly a side-effect of the bus accident we were in three years ago, most certainly incredibly painful. But at least his retina is attached. RIGHT?

Got a bit of snow here. It dwarfs even me at 37 weeks and 1 day pregnant. No kidding, THAT'S A LOT OF SNOW.

Of note, apparently: That is indeed a bird feeder behind me, and the above are all links to full images.

February 1st, 11:20pm. 5 lbs. 13 ounces, 18 inches long.

White blond eyelashes and eyebrows and at present, a full head of dark hair. Long feet. Delicate features.

THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.

A little busy right now lying around watching her sleep to get into more detail or post photo albums, but to tide you over, her first post-birth round of hiccups, which was KILLING ME. She looked so surprised about it.

I was going to say parenthood has been cake so far, but then, it's taken me all day to post anything. I've got big plans to post the play-by-play and all, but so far, I have not had the time to write the play-by-play. While we're waiting for that, I'll mention that Matilda has jaundice, yes, and it's not a problem. I knew jaundice was not a problem, but the nurses kept telling me not to worry, so I guess most people don't know not to freak. I'd also like to point out that I was wrong on her measurements. She was 18.5 inches long, not 18. Hoo, am I a bad mother already? Also, her APGAR score, which I didn't even get around to inquiring about until today at the pediatrician, was 9/9. Which means she came out with bells on, even if the cord was wrapped around her neck.

Today is her 5th day and we decided to mark the occasion by taking her for her first walk. It's February, but the weather has been gorgeous. We packed her into the sling and trotted up the street to the golf course, where she sort of freaked (right after these photos were taken) and was not having any tit in nature, thanksverymuch.

She goes from zero to hysterical in 2 seconds flat and woe is the woman who does not present the nipple in that one second window. If that window passes, the hysteria begins. It doesn't usually last too long, plus she turns her already tiny mouth into a perfect "O" and sort of ohh ohhh ohhh's out the final indignity, and that face IS OFF THE CHARTS OF CUTE. Plus she's only 5 days old, so cut the kid some slack.

We've been having her sleep in a laundry basket though, so I'm not sure you should be cutting us any slack.

Her grandfather gets the couch.

Where Matilda has been, off and on but mostly on, since 1am:

Onsie today says:

I Am a Musical Robot

I don't know how people raised kids before the internet came along and gave us something to bide the time at 2am when the baby wants to eat and you want to sleep. Just sitting in a chair, usually one that ROCKS to help put the baby to sleep but hello, that motion puts everyone to sleep, in a dark room with a small hot body attached to you is no way to try and stay awake.

Last night was not a great one. I have no problem, yet, with being up at all hours to feed Matilda. When she's nursing, she's so sweet and peaceful. The night before last, when the nursing started at 1am and pretty much lasted all morning, I took her downstairs and set up shop on the couch with the laptop. Was easy. But last night. Last night, I fed her and left her with Niclas while I tried to get a head-start on some sleep. He brought her upstairs an hour later and the SCREAMING WAILING THRASHING AROUND began. She was acting like the Hungry Man's All Day Breakfast would not tide her over till brunch. SHE WAS STARVING. But would not take my boob HYSTERICAL THRASHING FIST AND FEET OF FURY. Anything I did to calm her was temporary. Once she was quiet, she'd start rooting again and then would refuse to eat and OMG WHAT IS GOING ON. I was wracking my brain. We had salad for dinner! It had onions in it which I tried to pick out but I can taste them I ATE RAW ONIONS AND SHE HATES THEM. So I had Niclas whip up some formula because I'd rather have her full then starving, even if formula does smell disgusting and ruins her Fresh Baby Scent.

She put up with a bit from an eye dropper, but didn't seem that interested so back to the boob except of course SHE WOULD NOT TAKE IT for more than a few minutes at a time HYSTERICAL OVER HERE. During one lull in the hysteria, Niclas took her temperature and changed her diaper, all with her on me. No fever, now clean diaper and STILL HYSTERICAL.

The learning curve for new parents is about as steep as it is for newborns. The first night home with her was embarrassing. We were so inept I can't even tell you about it. Last night, I was trying to fix a problem when it turns out there might not have been a problem to fix and maybe I just need to get some earplugs so she doesn't burst my eardrums when she is HYSTERICAL in my arms with the fist and feet of fury.

She'll be a week old tonight, and I was not aware that that was old enough for The Crank to set in. THE INTERNET LIED TO ME. Because I thought we had a few weeks before she established her Hysterical Time, last night threw me. Obviously, I prefer it when she's calm:

But if I did that all day, I'd probably have to scream it out once in a while too.

P.S. Photos of her for the month of February can be found here.

P. P. S. I've been calling her Fist of Fury? And before she was born, I was calling her Mrs. Bruce Lee? And I did not even realize that Fist of Fury IS A BRUCE LEE MOVIE. OMG WE'VE BRED THE REINCARNATION OF BRUCE LEE.

*excited*

She snorts like a pig when getting comfortable and nods her head like a rabbit when she's eating. She curls up like a pill bug when she's naked and laid on her back. When she poops, she kicks her legs out like a horse. She doesn't sound like a rooster per se, but she can wake up the neighborhood.

Phone call to the Birth Center 5 days post-partum:

"Hi, I was in there on Tuesday to give birth? And I was wondering if there was any way the cathater from the IV could still be in my hand."
"Oh! I don't think so. The device is all one piece. But I guess anything is possible."
"Because see, it's mighty sore right past the insertion site."
"That's normal enough. It's a fairly invasive procedure."
...
"Getting an IV in my hand was the least invasive thing that happened to me on Tuesday."
"Yes, I'd say you might be right about that."

Right, considering these had to come out the other end:

February 1, 2005:

2:45am: Wide awake. *tap tap tap* Lying in bed *sigh* another night of not sleeping. I am weary of the not sleeping.

3am: Up to pee.

3:05am: Back to bed. *tap tap tap*

3:55am: Up to pee.

4am: Back to bed....wait. What? I just went to the bathroom. Can't have to pee again WHY AM I WETTING MYSELF. OMG I'M INCONTINENT. *pause* No. Wait. NO WAY.

4:02am: Back to bathroom with mirror.

4:03am: OMG NOT INCONTINENT. (Note: was a trickle and not a deluge and not in bed, not even on the floor.)

4:05am: "Niclas? Wake up. My water broke. It broke! WATER BROKE!"
*blank stare*
Niclas: "Gna?"
Me: "Gna. Right."

4:10am: Manage to figure out how to work my cell phone to call OB's office:

"Hi, this is Duane."
"Hi. My water broke."
"Who's your attending?"
"Dr. Weaver."
"And why are you calling?"
"Well Duane, because my water broke."
"And how far along are you?"
"Almost 39 weeks."
"And your attending?"
"You hate your job, don't you, Duane? DR. WEAVER."

*tap tap tap*

4:15am: Phone rings. "Water broke! I wasn't sure I mean I thought I had just gone incontinent but I'm not incontinent! Also, not in labor! ...Yet!"

4:16 - 6:30am: Lather, rinse. No really, took a shower and experienced my first real, not practice, contraction. Had breakfast, a few more contractions, one a Whopper With Cheese, and headed off to the hospital with three bags, one yoga ball, two books, a Wired magazine, one camera, two lenses and one giant flash.

6:31 - 9am: Random contractions, three walks around the L&D floor, one blue Italian ice, visit from Dr. Weaver and her 4 year-old daughter. "Hi Grace!" *hides behind mother's legs* Contemplate turning on the TV, bored, come on come on, bounce on yoga ball to speed things up. Niclas gets some food. Omelette, egg and cheese sandwich, pear, Diet Pepsi.

9:01 - 9:29am: Visit from Dr. Weaver. 4 cm. dilated, 100% effaced and once she's done with me, probably more like 5 cm. dilated. She tells me the 2 to 4 cm. dilating is the worse. I don't believe her. She also tells me we'll be done by dinner time. Want to believe her. Have to lie in bed long enough for the check, a fetal monitoring and the insertion of the Lego IV drip.

9:30 - 9:59am: One more walk around the L&D floor, IV on squeaky useless pole that Niclas tries to dismantle but the ceiling height won't let him.

10 - 2:29pm: THINGS SPEED UP. Contractions go from random to two and three minutes apart. Some are doubles which certainly last three times as long. Discover that the yoga ball is my friend. Want to marry yoga ball. Will do anything to avoid having to lie in the bed.

2:30 - 2:59pm: Niclas gets a roast beef sandwich and a bowl of strawberry ice cream which he eats from the side of the bed while I heave out contractions on the yoga ball from the foot of the bed. No photo of that meal are you kidding CONTRACTIONS ARE NOT MESSING AROUND.

3 - 3:09pm: The contractions start in at a minute apart and WHERE IS THE MAN WITH THE EPIDURAL. Shaking, not calm, can't get it together between contractions. Anesthesiologist makes Niclas wait outside and has me sign the consent form after the needle is in place. Smart.

3:10 - 3:50pm: Take a nap.

3:51 - 6:29pm: Contractions I can't feel. *yawn* Bored.

6:30 - 6:44pm: Dr. Weaver comes in to check my progress. 8cm. Guess we won't be making the Early Bird Special for dinner. Dr. Weaver says it's time to pull out the pit drip. I am hooked up.

6:45 - 7:44pm: Contractions. I can feel the pressure but not the pain. They feel like the Braxton-Hicks contractions all over again.

7:45 - 8pm: Feeling sort of sick. Tell nurse I'm not going to, but I feel like I could vomit. Know what this means.

8:01 - 9pm: Start pushing. Niclas has to hold my right leg as it feels like a pork loin to me. So much for him staying above my waist. Nurse has the other leg. Dr. Weaver arrives to check things between contractions and INSERTS A CATHETER. The indignity of it all and Niclas is watching over her shoulder "So that's where that is!" I welcome him to the one part of my anatomy he was not previously acquainted with. Also, tell someone to close the armoire doors on the TV at the foot of the bed my god the surface IT'S REFLECTIVE. Conversations between contractions with nurse, such as:

"Do a lot of women come in here with Birth Plans?"
"Some, sure. They all end up having c-sections."

9:01 - 10:45: Pushing. Dr. Weaver is in and out to check progress. When not with us, she's down the hall with her kids. Have to snap fingers to get attention of Niclas and nurse to hold my legs. *snap snap* "Contraction coming." "I don't see it on the monitor," Niclas says. "BUT I CAN FEEL IT HOLD MY LEGS." Nurse is all "Push! Push harder! Come on Michelle, you can do it!" Niclas counts to ten on each push. "One, two, three, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." And I'm thinking, YOU'RE BOTH SO BUSTED.

10:46pm: Dr. Weaver lays down the law. I've got 14 minutes to get this kid out or she's going to use other measures. (Other measures: vacuum or c-section NO PLEASE NO I'll push the Chrysler Building out of my vagina to avoid a c-section.)

10:47 - - 11:10pm: *PUSHING* Dr. Weaver leaves the room and for the first time since I met her back in June, I don't want to see her again.

11:11 - 11:20pm: *SWEARWORD* She is back and all business. She should consider coaching weight lifters. "Push. HARDER." Calls in the troops and all of a sudden there are 5 other people in the room. "Do you think we need one more?" "I think we need one more." One more nurse comes in and grabs the suction end of the vacuum while Dr. Weaver attaches the cup to the top of the baby's head. *PUSHING* Legs over head, hollywood light on private parts, Pediatrician in the corner with bed-head. I can feel her head IT IS RIGHT THERE and then I hear "I need to cut" and then, THEN, *SNIP SNIP* and pop, the head is out, then the body, 11:20pm.

11:21 - 11:30pm: Nose and mouth get suctioned and we hear the first sounds from the Fist of Fury as she's whisked across the room to the Dr. with bed-head. Niclas follows and tells her our story in Swedish over the Pediatrician's shoulder.

11:31 - 11:50pm: Dr. Weaver pulls out the placenta like she's playing tug-o-war and shows it to me -- the sac membrane feels thin and sturdy. Then she sews me up. The sewing takes forever. "You're going to have to tell me later how bad things are down there." "Oh, it's not that bad, I'm a perfectionist." Want to believe her.

11:51: Fist of Fury is in my arms, Dr. Weaver is out the door. Bright lights are shut down, crew departs. "It's a wrap!"

Next Installment: I try to walk on Dead Legs.

Don't have much in the way of a coherent thought today, so instead, some photos.

How we've been working things thus far:

My HAM HOCKS and the nap we squeezed in yesterday:

There's a world out there at the bottom of these steps:

(Fourth visit to the Pediatrician this morning, so I know about there being a world out there. Matilda is gaining about an ounce a day, which might explain why I'm drinking water like it's going out of style and NOT SLEEPING AT ALL OVER HERE. Which is actually mostly ok, but this morning I'm a little tender and I might just try her trick of screaming with the fist of fury.)

11 days postpartum. I keep stepping on the scale expecting the 15 pounds of chocolate cake to disappear. No such luck. Looks like they are real and not PHANTOM POUNDS like I was hoping. I've been wearing my first trimester pants and Niclas' button down shirts and I feel better than I look, so this morning, I pulled out all my pre-pregnancy pants and TRIED THEM ON. Well, I tried to try them on, but nothing was fitting over the thighs. Hint #2 that the pounds are real. *SWEARWORD*

Good: I've managed to shave my legs and take a shower every day so far. I gave myself a pedicure -- my feet! I can reach them! My boobs are like Olympic athletes and are showing no signs of wear with the near constant sucking. My stomach was a built-in Boppy Pillow the first week postpartum, so I didn't need the real Boppy Pillow.

Bad: Night Sweats due to hormones and needing to change my clothes before the 3am feeding. Having to wear a pad and feeling like I'm going to get diaper rash before Matilda. The 15 pounds of chocolate cake, 'natch. The built-in Boppy Pillow my stomach was the first week postpartum, but also the fact that it's gone now and I need to start using the real Boppy Pillow. Also, unrelated, but I might be bleeding out from what appears to be a bug bite on my neck.

Fascinating: When Matilda pulls herself off my boob and has MILK ALL OVER HER FACE. I made that? Honestly, the fact that my boobs are making milk that is feeding her and filling in her cheeks is almost weirder than the fact that she grew inside me for 9 months and then was heaved out of my vagina. *blank stare*

Handy: Said boobs for telling me if I got any sleep or not. Yesterday, I woke up with deflated air-bags flapping around on my chest. Verdict: Matilda ate well, I didn't sleep. This morning, I woke up with alarms going off on my boobs *Caution Overflow Imminent* Verdict: We both slept well, she wanted to eat from 10 to 12, once we all got up.

It's Saturday, see. We slept in:

Add to Bad list: The fact that Niclas and I both look like bloated pink monsters with sandpaper skin and manhole pores that could swallow the baby whole.

There are some foods you're supposed to wait a few years before introducing into a baby's diet. One of those foods is peanuts. Another one is strawberries. We have dropped both of these ON THE BABY'S FACE in the last week.

That's it, pretty much. I'm just going to let that swing in the breeze and follow it up with some bath shots:

(Please Note: It took me 7 hours to get this post up.)

Three Days Ago: Took Matilda to Babies R Us to pick up a few odds and ends and had to block two old ladies from SHOVING THEIR HANDS INTO THE CAR SEAT all *touchy touchy* "IT'S A BABY!"

Two Days Ago: Put Matilda in her car seat, put the cat seat in the stroller frame, and took a walk around the block:

Yesterday: Waved baby in front of Niclas and said Happy Valentine's Day. "Look what I got you!"

Last Night: Matilda's friends in the computer sent her awesome, appropriate gifts:

The Phantom Tollbooth is one of my Top 10 Favorite Books of All Time and Niclas loves the heavy metal. Also, handmade baby blanket! *SCORE*

This Morning: Managed to remain in bed till almost 6am by feeding Matilda while lying down.

At Present: Keeping an eye out for Baby's First Cold as my mother, who was here yesterday, turned up with a sore throat this morning.

Matilda is two weeks old today, and she's well into the swing of things. She naps and snacks all day and all night and has two Marathon Feeding Sessions, one when I want to eat breakfast and the other when I want to eat dinner. I'd rather have her eating when I'm eating then eating when I'm trying to sleep, though, so it's all working out.

Also, I'm two weeks into the recovery end of things, and it's strange. I'm SO GLAD I'm not pregnant anymore. Strange because I didn't really mind being pregnant while it was happening. I was enjoying the science experiment of it and was only truly uncomfortable the last two days. But now that I'm not pregnant? I never want to be again, and it's not even because my recovery has been hard or the labor was brutal, because neither has been the case.

My labor was longer than I expected, but it really, honestly, was not that bad. In the weeks leading up to it, Niclas would ask me if I was getting nervous about it. I wasn't. I was all, Eh. It'll be fine. And if it's not, I'll just get the epidural. Which is exactly how it went down. Granted, I was a mess the following day, but after that, I was more or less fine. Stopped taking the Midol because I just kept forgetting. By the time we brought Matilda home, I was feeling great. Still am, though I will admit to being a bit tired and certainly out of shape as a walk around the block winds me ever so slightly. But basically, I can't wait for the all clear so I can start going to the gym. Plus, I have HIP BONES again!

How to start the weekend:

Sleep in till 9:30 because the baby lets you. Wake up feeling rested because as it turns out, feeding the baby at night is easiest when you're both lying down. Get on the scale to find you're down 2.5 pounds. Put the baby in the shower with Niclas and watch her either not hate it or be too shocked to complain. Finally get a shot of her with milk all over her face:

Have friends come visit for lunch. Adults! In person! And not on TV!

Niclas vacuumed the house yesterday with Matilda sleeping in a sling around his neck. Was pretty cute.

Today we took her to the mall because we needed a new L key on the laptop. Was also pretty cute.

No photo, but when we got back home today, I made banana bread with Matilda sleeping in the sling around my neck. Niclas wanted to know why I wasn't making something he'd like to eat as well, but I was all, we've got all these bananas that need to be used? So I'm making banana bread.

And yes, Matilda is wearing the same outfit in both of those photos, taken on two separate days.

Niclas is getting good at slinging the baby around the place.

Baby is squishing your head.

Also getting used to sucking on fingers

and looking charming.

Another weigh-in for Matilda today.

"What is she, a wrestler?"
"No, but she is up 4 oz. in 5 days."

Also, is 20 inches long, but she's still swimming in all of her clothes. Her legs are like toothpicks sticking out of the leg holes in her onsies. She still only fits in her newborn sleep sacs. We have to roll up the rims of her hats twice so they don't cover her nose. They still sometimes cover her eyes.

I mentioned to the pediatrician that while she'll take a bottle from Niclas (of the one ounce I'm able to pump a day), it never seems to quiet her down enough to sleep. He said that's because she's HIGH MAINTENANCE and I was like, "Wait. What? You mean some babies are easier than this? We got a high strung one?" "Well, yes. It should peak in the next week or so." *slack jaw*

See, her constant eating and the fact that she is rarely ok napping when not drapped over one of us? Plus the fact that the only way I've found to GET SOME SLEEP is to pull her into the bed with us because she just cries in her laundry basket and wants to snack all night? Is hard and sure I'm tired, but I think we're fairing pretty well with all this. So the fact that she's not exactly an easy baby made me feel better and not worse. Tired, but we're decent parents afterall.

Plus, right now? She's sleeping. IN HER CAR SEAT. So I have two hands free!

By the time we brought Matilda home from the hospital, I was So Excited to have my body back that I felt like spending the night in gold hot pants at Studio 54 spinning in Disco Inferno circles and spilling my cocktails all over the dance floor.

...OK not quite, but pretty close. Basically, I was shocked at how much I was loving not being pregnant, seeing as I didn't mind being pregnant. I mentioned to Niclas that I never wanted to be pregnant again. "Can we adopt the rest of them?" Knowing full well that he would not go for it. "But look how cute this one is!"

I always said I'd rather adopt (after I stopped saying I never wanted kids) and I still would like to, but I'm discovering that adopting is like raising kids in New York City. You really have to be loaded to pull it off. We're not. And since we don't seem to have any problems getting pregnant, I'm guessing I'm going to be going through all this a second time.

Which (sort of) brings me to my point. These last four weeks (Almost. Matilda is a month old tomorrow!) has seen me swing from one end of the spectrum to the other. Sometimes I look at Matilda and I can't wait to get started on the next one because this one is so gorgeous and adorable and every day she discovers something new to BREAK MY HEART INTO A BILLION PIECES. Other times, I look at my flabby stomach at 3AM when I'm up and in the middle of a 2-hour feed and can't imagine putting myself through this again. Flip. Flop. Except honestly, I know I'll be putting myself through this again and if I don't want to spend more money on maternity clothes, we'll be trying come next May or so. *Heart Palpitations*

Matilda is one month old today. We're still working on a one-way street (we give, she takes), but this morning she pulled a new trick out of her bag. Thus far, I've been able to stay in bed with her as long as I wanted. I could just pop a boob in her mouth and drift back off to sleep. This morning, that worked once but then she was all, "No see, I'm AWAKE. You're required to get up and ENTERTAIN ME." *chop chop*

Gna. Which was a bummer as I was (still am) tired. But ok I got up with her. And seeing as she was in a great mood, I dropped her in her crib and turned on her new mobile. And you know what? She was totally content in there, looking around and listening to the baby Bach.

After I brushed my teeth, I came back to find her STILL CONTENT. I stood there watching her at a loss. I'm not sure what to do with myself when she's content and not strapped to my chest. She threw me and it's only Month One. We're SO IN FOR IT.

Remember when I said we were so in for it? Right. I had the audacity to put Matilda in her laundry basket so I could shower today. She had been sleeping peacfully in the sling prior to this obviously terrible idea, but the second her head hit the mattress, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. And I let it.

I'm all for this Attachment Parenting thing, TO A POINT. I'll carry Matilda around in the sling and I'll feed her on demand and co-sleep (out of desperation more than anything), but hell if I'm going to forgo showering or shaving or brushing my teeth to appease the little machine.

Most of the time, she's pretty quiet, BECAUSE IT'S HARD TO YELL WITH A NIPPLE IN YOUR MOUTH, but once in a while she's given the opportunity to check her lungs. This morning was one of those times. Thing is, once I got out of the shower and went to pick her up? She had actual tears. Up to yesterday, her eyes remained dry in the midst of the most outrageous You-Are-Cutting-Off-My-Leg-With-A-Rusty-Razor red-faced hysteria. But now she's added real wet tears to the equation, which obviously ups the guilt factor. *SWEARWORD*

'Round these parts, Saturday is Shower Day for the very small. This Saturday, we finally remembered to take the camera into the bathroom along with the baby, two hooded towels, washcloth, baby shampoo, giant baby-safe q-tip, baby body cream, clean diaper, wipes, clean onsie and sleep sac and Safer Bather (which we don't use as directed, but instead use to lie the baby on before and after her shower).

Oh sure, she's cute in this pictute. Let me tell you something, though. She has been SUCH a pill today. I'm sure it's on account of a growth spurt (as the nursing has not really let up since it started at 2:15 this morning), but is it really necessary to couple "constant hunger" with "crank master flash?"

The Big One & Then a Smaller One:

I was going to say that I was hesitant to say anything in case it was just gas, But it's not gas and Matilda is now smiling. You know when she feels like it. She didn't feel like it when I took this picture, but now that she's also fitting into her clothes, you can bet I'm going to document every outfit.

And Then an Unexpected One:

Matilda has been gifted THE ALMIGHTY SWING OF ALL SWINGS. I've read the reviews and yeah, yeah, babies love it BUT OH MY GOD BABIES LOVE IT. We just put Matilda in hers and both left the room. Did you catch that? WE PUT HER DOWN AND LEFT THE ROOM. And there was no screaming. For ages in Baby Time. In fact, she only wanted out when I stood over her and made kissy faces. Then she wanted to nurse. So that was my fault. But now we have this swing. Do you know what this means? It means that Niclas and I could both go to the bathroom at the same time.

I just picked my daughter's nose. What? She had some crusty stuff going on in there. See, along with the tears came Saliva. Otherwise known as drool. And boogers. She's well hydrated, folks.

She's also, right now, in the swing.

I'm typing with two hands!

Every time I post about Matilda growing out of a phase, she waits an hour and brings that phase back. For example, Week Seven is really no quieter than Week Six. Week Seven is, in fact, too loud to talk on the phone. She might think it's funny now? But just wait till I pick her up from school in short shorts and hot rollers. In front of all her friends. Who'll be laughing then, huh? HUH, LITTLE GIRL?

Does not include food we've spilled on the napkins we put over her head to avoid spilling the food directly on her:

· Oatmeal. Most mornings.
· Chicken curry
· Coffee
· Rice cake
· Turkey slices
· Sprouts
· Cheese
· Yogurt
· Wild rice with apricots
· Twix bars (Found them!)

Includes food we've spilled on the napkins we put over her head to avoid spilling the food directly on her:

· Beef stir-fry with mini corn
· Couscous
· Marinated pork loin
· Curry lunch box special from the Thai place in town
· Steak burrito
· Margarita on the rocks, no salt

A common conversation among people standing over a baby is the "Who Does It Look Like" game. Before Matilda was born, we were sure she'd have blond hair because, hello, have you seen her father? As her head got closer and closer to the outside world, Niclas kept up a running commentary -- "When you push, she's right there. Is that blond hair? Is she blond? Wait, can you push again so I can see if she's blond?"

As it turns out, she was born a brunette. She looks like me in that her head is small, but that's about it around the face. She looks like Niclas around the thighs (Actually, the poor thing seems to have inherited the worst combination of our thighs. Short from me and thick from him. Mini skirts may not be the wave of her future).

At 8 weeks old (tomorrow), she looks like herself, thighs aside. She does share my dislike of the cold, however, and she seems to enjoy the water, provided it's warm, which she must have acquired from her ex-swimmer father.

*My rack shot milk onto the coffee table last week, FROM THE COUCH. Aside from that, it's boring even to myself these days. But for the sake of record-keeping, I've had four clogged ducts since Matilda's party. Dues: Paid.

Our bedroom. Earlier this morning:

"Do you think we should give Matilda a bath today?"
"Does she need it?"
"If you mean is she filthy, no, but she likes the bath AND THERE SEEMS TO BE A LACK OF JOY IN HER LIFE."

Niclas came downstairs this morning to congratulate me on our growing family.

"The baby? What, you just figured that out?"
"Smart-ass. No. A bird has taken up residence in one of the bird houses in the backyard."

And we both ran to the window to see. Where there was nothing to see as the bird was either in the house or out somewhere shopping for twigs. But how Spring is THAT? That is SO Spring, is what.

Something that is not so Spring: Niclas and I woke up this morning with sore throats and stuffy noses. The baby, laying perfectly still next to me, opened her mouth and screamed in the highest pitch she is capable of for one minute. Then she woke up. She does this. It's officially a "thing" of hers.

This morning when we all woke up, the bedside clock read 9:30. Yesterday when Matilda channeled a high-pitched drag-queen rooster and then woke up grinning, it was closer to 10:30. She nudges me for a snack somewhere between 4 and 5:30 in the morning, but that's pretty much it.

She's sleeping through the night, in case you missed that. She's also been angelic* the last few days. I've asked her who she is and what she's done with our daughter, "Who are you and what have you done with our daughter?" but she's not talking. She's too busy napping and nursing for food instead of comfort and sitting in our laps and smiling and NOT SCREAMING LIKE HELL. It is her fault we both woke up with head colds, but I'll take the cold medicine over earplugs any day.

*While I dislike the term, damned if it doesn't fit.

Today Matilda is 10 weeks old. To celebrate, she got up at 10:00 and has been nursing ever since.

On Sunday we visited friends with an 8 week old baby. He's two weeks younger than Matilda and nearly twice the weight. He's also Easy Like a Sunday Morning during the day, although his mother tells me he's up every two hours at night like clockwork. It doesn't make sense, but the porker babies seem to be breezy during the day and holy high rollers at night while the scrawny Type A personalities demand all day and sleep all night like drunken teenagers.

I don't get it but I won't question it. I got up at 10:00 this morning, you think I want to mess with that?

Always on the look-out for a photo-op, Niclas took some pictures of Matilda and Sam reuniting yesterday. I must admit she looks pleased to be back in the arms of her older man.

Ten and a half weeks into motherhood and three days into the non-stop nursing of one of Matilda's growth spurts (Right now, my mother is scratching her head and wondering how Matilda could possibly nurse more than she usually does and how I could possibly tell the difference, to which I respond, "Ha! Um, A-ha!...What's that over there?" *points to wall*), my reading comprehension skills are dragging. I was sure an email from Shannon said she'd be home this weekend when it really said she'd be home next weekend. I was excited to see her this weekend and while I was not excited to drive to Boston with Matilda (see also: Does Not Travel Well), my mind was firing over that and hitting on us all walking around the Boston Commons, as in, BEING IN A PUBLIC SPACE. With adults. And bars nearby.

When Shannon had not returned our calls or my email by Noon, it started to dawn on me that maybe I was wrong. Verdict: I was. But I was still itching to get out of the house so Niclas and I strapped Matilda to the roof of the car I mean into her carseat and we drove to Newburyport.

We had a very nice afternoon that began at an Antiques Hall -- cue: The Screaming -- and ended at a restaurant with outdoor seating where Matilda had a full-on Postcards From the Edge-style meltdown.

It's a good thing she's cute.

This morning I was sure I heard Matilda giggle when she smiled. This afternoon Niclas was sure he heard Matilda giggle when she smiled. This evening my mother was sure she heard Matilda giggle when she smiled.

This means she giggles now. It also means she smiled on at least three separate occasions today.

She's still full of piss and vinegar, though. No worries there.

Yesterday Matilda and I went to Chinatown with my mother and a friend of hers. I had planned on taking pictures, especially in the grocery store, but having a baby means you never get to do things quite how you planned.

I had planned for my mother to carry Matilda in the Baby Bjorn while I took pictures of Chinese Celery and piles of root vegetables and Pocky packages. However, five minutes into the grocery store and only on the second aisle, Matilda decided she'd had enough of that and I was required to carry her through the produce aisles.

It's a good thing we took pictures of Matilda's morning bath, because otherwise I'd only have the one Chinatown picture to show you.