Ten Weeks

When Sam was just a few weeks old, ten weeks was often the magical number floated around in conversations about sleeping and eating and crying. People tried millions of different things to try to get their children to sleep, to stop crying, to nurse better; the list of options was a mile long. But almost everyone said "it got better around ten weeks."

The past couple of days were beautiful--warm, sunny, the smell of spring just starting to tinge the air. We spent lots of time outside playing. Sam huffed and gasped and cooed as the breeze blew on his face.

At some point during the weekend I was holding Sam while Jeff and Charlotte explored the backyard (one corner of which has been dubbed "the woods"). I looked down at the little guy on my lap who was looking around with a bright and pleasant look on his face and thought, "ten weeks. They were right."

He sleeps well. Some nights he's still up more often than I would like, and occasionally he'll resist going back to bed after his 3 a.m. feeding, but those are exceptions, not the rule. He naps well, and longer than his sister ever did. We can usually count on at least one nap that lasts longer than two hours every day. He eats well. Charlotte always seemed to be nursing, but Sam is a quick and efficient eater. He rarely cries, although he is still not a fan of diaper changes or baths. His gas is still an issue (and I know babies's gas isn't supposed to stink, but MAN, Sam didn't get that memo) but he seems less perturbed by it and it almost never interrupts his sleep.

So: to all you new moms out there, hold on. Ten weeks is just around the corner.