2.5 weeks

My daughter is hitting that fussy stage, that three week developmental spurt that lasts for a few weeks, which apparently now (according to the literature foisted upon me at the hospital) is called the "Purple Crying" stage. (What the ... ??) She's fussier, harder to soothe, sleeps less. Which for her means a few squawks here and there, and frequent wakings (last night: 10:30, 12:30, 2:30, 3:30, 4:30, 5:30, and 6:30. All times approximate.) Which sucks. But such is life with a newborn, right? I remember that it wasn't until three weeks with The Boy that I got a decent night's sleep; The Girl has already afforded me some so I guess I was likely owed the seven wake up calls last night. She's making up for lost time.

Let's hope she decides punishment is over tonight. Man, I am tired! And due to the midwife appointment today, which had to be cancelled and rescheduled, I didn't get in a nap.

She's growing longer -- I can tell, because even at this early stage I can no longer breastfeed her one-handed, head at breast and bottom resting comfortably in that same-side hand. She's just a teeny bit too long for that. Growth was corroborated at the midwife's this morning, where she was measured at 9 pounds, 4 ounces -- an average weight gain of an ounce per day. Which is right on par -- The Boy gained weight at a phenomenal rate, doubling his (considerable) birth weight in less than three months, and I don't think The Girl will match that, but you never know. At least for now I am reassured that milk supply is fine.

Guess I now have an answer for the daycare lady.

She has decided, like her brother, that the best way to sleep is on someone, and so I've learned how to do many things one-handed, one on her in the sling. Alas, typing is not one of those things, so I'm sitting here typing as fast as humanly possible while she consents to nap in her bouncing, vibrating seat. She looks very content, but I know I have about twenty minutes, tops (during which I finished putting clothes in the dryer and dishes in the dishwasher, because goodness knows those are hard to do one-handed. Not that I haven't done it. In fact last night I made pizza one-handed, although that was, I admit, quite a feat.)

And I've decided that there is only one problem with the Moby wrap: It's WAY TOO WARM. I mean, if you put it on right, you are wrapping FIVE layers of fabric over your child. Who is on you. And it's 20 degrees out, which is not warm but for a post-partum woman and child, means that I go out and we are both sweating within minutes. I have gone back to my tried and true sling, the nice blue one that a certain someone (ahem!) bought for me with my first baby, a sling that was used every damn day for months, and then, when The Boy finally got too heavy for long jaunts in it, was my preferred carrier for home or for any short errand at all. (Thanks SH!) She loves the sling. I love the sling, because it's so easy and not hot and she can *nurse* in it (which The Boy never managed to do) and ... it's just great. I have it near me or on me all day.

Annnnnnddd ... time. Twenty minutes up!