Sorry about leaving the creepy eyeball photos up there for so long!

I'm just back from Sam's two-month check-up. Over the past few weeks, I've noticed Sam getting...cheekier. Plumper. Downright fat. I was right: 14 pounds, 2 ounces and 24 1/2 inches tall--94th percentile for both. And his tiny head is growing, too: up from the 10th percentile to the 30th this month. Whew.

Two nights ago, I came home from my night class around 10 p.m. Sam had been in bed for an hour and a half. I did some work on my computer for a while, and then headed up to bed. But instead of sleeping, I stayed up talking to Jeff and reading. I was anticipating a midnight wakeup, you see.

Finally, around 1:30 a.m., I gave up waiting for Sam to wake up and went to sleep. I woke bleary-eyed and achey-chested (sorry!) and rolled over to see the clock: 4:45 a.m. What!? I lay there for a moment before hearing him sigh a little over the monitor, saving me from having to get up to go check on him. The next time I woke up it was to Sam crying. This time it was 6 a.m. He had slept through the night, something his big sister didn't do until she was nearly 7 months old!

Of course, that feat was not replicated last night. But still!

I hope to post some pictures of my giant baby tonight. But for now, duty calls!

I've been thinking about eye color lately as I've watched Sam's eyes shift and change. I have a feeling they'll eventually turn more like Jeff's eyes, and I wanted to document that muddy baby-blue color they are now. So here are all of our eyes for your perusal.

I find it interesting that even though I would say Charlotte and I both have blue eyes, they are pretty different shades of blue. Mine have more green in them, while Charlotte's are more of a true blue.

Also, if you asked Jeff what color his eyes are, he'd probably say brown. But doesn't it look like he has just as much green in his eyes as brown? They're really tri-colored: a ring of darker blue-green around the outside, then the greenish-gold, then a nice golden brown in the middle.

It was one year ago last week that I drove up to our house after school and saw, leaning against our front door, a fed-ex envelope. The envelope was from the University of Kansas, and inside was an acceptance letter from the graduate school.

This year is, of course, presenting its own challenges. Juggling parenting a toddler and newborn with getting my PhD is difficult, of course. Add to that my desire to get back into shape, keep my house relatively clean, and on occasion cook a meal and you've got a busy, sometimes hectic and stressful schedule.

But I would take my life right now over what I was going through a year ago a hundred times over. The anxiety, the daily, stomach-churning, ego-ripping anxiety of waiting to hear back from grad programs was one of the most intensely stressful periods of my life (probably second only to the process of applying to grad school). When I got my first acceptance last year, I felt enormous relief, in part because that meant that no matter what, I'd be going on to get my PhD somewhere, and that meant I would never, ever have to go through the process of applying again.

No more standardized tests! No more filling out online applications with redundant information! No more anxious emails to graduate secretaries trying desperately to clarify the requirements for applying! No! More!

Of course, in a few years when I complete my PhD, I will have the stressful experience of having to find a job. But let's not speak of that!

I plan on writing more about the whole process I went through last year a bit more in the coming weeks. Suffice it to say that I'm very, very happy with where I ended up, and ultimately with how the entire process of applying, visiting, and selecting a school went.

This is too good not to share. Another Charlotteism:

Charlotte: I tooted, mama!
Me: You sure did! Whoa! Where did you get such stinky buns?
Charlotte, whispering: God made my buns.
Me: *laughs*
Charlotte: He did! God made them stinky like that!

Seven Weeks

We're all smiles around here, and not just Sam. I heard things would get easier after the six week mark passed, and so far that's mostly true. Yesterday Sam turned seven weeks old, and in the past two nights he's slept really well. Friday night, he went to bed at 7:30 p.m., woke to eat at 11:30 p.m., went back to bed and slept until 3 a.m., and then ate and went right back to sleep until 8 a.m. Last night wasn't quite as wonderful (he woke up three times total and didn't want to go back to bed one of those times) but overall he seems to be understanding that the night time is the right time for sleep.

And of course we're loving the smiles we get from him. I remember feeling so rewarded by those first dopey smiles when Charlotte was a baby, and the feeling hasn't changed the second time around. I see that big toothless grin and I turn into a cooing moron. "Ohhh, who's a sweet little man?" I ask. "Sam is!" I answer myself needlessly. And so on.

He's also growing like a weed. Last week I had to box up all the 0-3 months clothes and bust out the 3-6 months outfits. The little owl outfit you see in the picture above is a 6 months size, and won't fit for much longer. Charlotte's been stalled out in 2t for so long now, I've forgotten what it's like to have a child who grows! He has his two-month checkup in a couple weeks, and I'm curious to see what he weighs.

Nothing to report otherwise. Charlotte is sleeping well, and generally behaving like a toddler (read: annoying sometimes, adorable others, delightful always). Jeff's hair keeps getting longer and longer, which for him means his leonid 'fro keeps getting more and more gigantic. I clipped a barbershop coupon for him, but so far he hasn't taken the hint. I might have to resort to publishing incriminating photos here.

Happy Valentine's Day!

More tomorrow...

Some Charlotteisms:

Charlotte is doing a little dance. Jeff asks her about it.
Charlotte: It's a promitized dance about a funny toy store with lots of candy in it and ice cream in there too.

Jeff is feeding Sam a bottle.
Charlotte: Heidi needs her bottle too.
J: Heidi needs some milk, too?
C: No, water. I pump for water, too. (Baring chest) Milk on this side, water on this side.

While we were listening to NPR on the radio, Charlotte suddenly belts out from the backseat: Budget crunch!

After dining out today:
Charlotte: We went to Applebeast, Sam!

Six Weeks

Everything is supposed to get easier after six weeks, or so I've read. I'm hoping this is true. Although to be honest things are usually manageable, really. I just would like a bit more sleep, and to know Sam will nap regularly during the day and sleep at night without being cradled in the loving (yet tired) arms of a parental unit, preferably the one with the mammaries. But that will all come with time, I know.

Today was another beautiful day in a series of sunny, warm days. We had the windows open and were all enjoying the fresh air sweeping out the scent of stale diaper. While I was changing Sam's diaper in his room with Charlotte acting as wingman, the wind picked up a bit and suddenly I heard a terrible crash. I turned around and, well, this is what I saw:

Yes, that's the window in Sam's room, and that's his bouncy seat, and, WHY YES, that IS a gigantic shard of glass positioned right where a baby would be if he were in the seat! After I checked Charlotte and Sam and myself to make sure we didn't have any errant pieces of window sticking out of our jugulars or anything, we cleared out of the room. Jeff called the landlord and left a message intended to convey the urgency of the situation. To his credit, the landlord responded promptly, and sent our maintenance man over to clean up the mess and replace the window. We plan on having the other windows looked at, too, to make sure we aren't positioning ourselves under potential guillotines every time we sit near a window.

The other big adventure of the day was that we started Sam on cloth diapers. I wanted to wait to start these until he wasn't having twenty bowel movements a day. Lately he's been pooping only once a day, maybe even every other day. I neglected to think about the fact that it had, indeed, been a while since his last poop when I donned the first fuzzi bunz diaper this afternoon. He quickly pooped just a modest amount in that one. I changed him, and was disappointed only an hour later to feel a bit of wetness seeping through his jammies. When I went to change his diaper, I blacked out momentarily. Not only was the entire diaper chock full of poo, his entire left pajama leg was brimming with it. As a result, Sam celebrated his six-week birthday with a nice, full-immersion bath.

Nothing like poo stories to bring in the readers!

It's 6:22 a.m., a time of day I normally would not choose to be awake. But the past three days have found me awake at around this time, sometimes earlier, and to be honest it hasn't been terribly unpleasant. It's quiet at six in the morning, and still dark. I get to peacefully drink a cup of tea at my desk while Sam half-sleeps in his swing for a half-hour or so.

We're falling into a bit of a routine here, a routine I know will change as the weeks go on and Sam's habits transform. But the routine we're in right now isn't bad. It's manageable, and in a comforting way predictable. For the past few days, Sam's been napping every few hours during the day, usually for an hour, sometimes for more, in his crib in his bedroom. Usually these naps take place around 8 or 9 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m. Sometimes he'll take another evening nap around 7 or 8 p.m. At night, he's been settling down between 11 p.m. and midnight, sometimes sleeping fairly quietly for a couple of hours. It's from 4 a.m. on that gets a little rough. He's still very noisy and grunty, and those hours seem to be a no-go zone for sleeping anywhere except on someone or in his swing. So I've been getting up after feeding him, putzing around downstairs while I wait for Charlotte to wake up. After I get Charlotte up and dressed and get her a little breakfast, Sam's usually ready to eat again. When he's done, I wake up Jeff to take over and head back to bed for a couple hours.

This works well if I don't mess around and try to go to sleep right away at night when Sam falls asleep. That way I can get a few hours earlier in the night, which, cobbled together with my morning nap, usually sustains me through the day. It's not the way I'd like things to be permanently, but I know this isn't permanent, so I'm not bothered by it.

One way we seem to have dealt with the evening fussiness/colic was by my giving up the idea of getting any work done after Charlotte goes to bed. This was difficult to let go of, as my evenings post-Charlotte-bedtime were always my time. But something about being downstairs, being held while I pecked away at the computer or tried to read on the couch, drove Sam nuts. When I gave up one evening a few nights ago and just went upstairs into the quiet, dim bedroom, Sam relaxed and, eventually, fell asleep. Sometimes I sneak back downstairs during that evening nap and do a few work-related things. Other times I just make some dinner or chat with Jeff.

I can't overstate how wonderful it is when Sam naps in his crib during the day. I know this is a basic thing, but it's something we didn't hit on with Charlotte until it was too late and she was ruined for naps: you can set your child down! Really! You don't have to hold them 24/7!

Now, sometimes this doesn't work. We lay Sam down and he wakes up and cries. I try not to freak out about this, but to just try again in a half-hour. Usually it takes, eventually. And then I get an hour to play with Charlotte, do my workout DVD, shower, etc.

I wish I had a tape recorder right now to capture the noises he's making in his swing. The grunts and groans are just unearthly. I can tell you right now that this kid is moving into his own room much earlier than Charlotte did (four and a half months, if I remember correctly).

But despite his insane sounds and occasional crying spells, Sam is turning out to be pretty okay. He has started smiling, and nothing lifts my heart more than that ridiculously cute toothless grin. He's most likely to share his smiles with his sister, by whom he is absolutely captivated. When he hears her little voice, his head swivels and he tries to hone in on her location. When she pays attention to him, he grins and opens his eyes as wide as they'll go, trying to take it all in.

And that's what I'm doing these days, too...just trying to take it all in, to remember all of this as the days pass and he gets bigger.

Monkey See...

Me: What are you doing, Charlotte?

Charlotte: Pumpin' some milk for my baby.

Ah, of course. Naturally.

Charlotte has been very into telling stories lately. Sometimes these stories are a mishmash of her day's events; often they incorporate bits and pieces of the books we read to her. We decided to capture the experience for you on video. Here it is:

Charlotte's Story Time (featuring a cameo from Sam!)

One Month

Sam's one month old today. We celebrated by decking him out in an actual outfit for the second time in his life. Normal it's fuzzy sleepers around here, day or night. And not just for Sam! (I'm only partly kidding. I'd totally wear a snuggie.) Then we went to the doctor for his one-month check-up. Sam weighs 10 pounds 12 ounces and is 23 inches long. 75th percentile for weight, 90th for height. His tiny head was in the 15th percentile. I guess he doesn't take after his gigantic-headed father. ("It's like an orange on a toothpick!" Name that movie.) I compared notes when I got home, and found that Charlotte was almost the exact same size at her one-month: 10 pounds 10 ounces, 23 inches.

My doctor weighed in on the colic/fussiness issue, and pretty much confirmed everything I had read. She also added some interesting information about the maturation of the digestive system that helped me think about all the work poor Sam seems to have to do just to pass gas. But the conclusion is still the same: only time will really cure this issue.

So, let the countdown to 12 weeks begin! (Of course, many of you have been kind enough to suggest that the light at the end of the tunnel might arrive sooner, but I'd rather be pleasantly surprised, so I'll aim for 12 weeks).

Also, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has taken the time to email me or leave comments with helpful suggestions, things that worked for you, etc. I read and appreciate each and every one, and just knowing how many people have been through this is helpful, too.

More pictures if you click the flickr link to the right, too.

So, it's not me, it's Sam. After several days of an exhilirating diet of plain rice, potatoes, canned peaches, and broiled chicken, Sam's gassiness was, if anything, worse than before. I reread the chapter in Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child about fussiness/colic, and have come to the conclusion that that's our issue here--not diet or allergies, not sickness or anything else, just fussiness.

The good news was that I could go back to eating like a human being. The bad news was that there's really not much you can do for colic. The three things the author of this book says helps are swaddling, sucking, and swinging. Sam doesn't seem to be a huge swinging fan, but swaddling helps a bit, and he's certainly devoted to sucking. So, for now, that's what we're doing. I'm also giving gas drops a try, and have ordered something called Colic Calm Gripe Water (which Jeff said sounds like Brother Tompkins' Patented Snake Oil Cure All or something equally 19th century). We'll see.

We don't know what causes colic. There are some interesting theories, including one about the temporary imbalance of serotonin and melatonin levels in babies, an imbalance that coincidentally resolves itself right around the time (3-4 months) colic usually ends. One in five babies experiences colic or unexplained fussiness. Somehow I don't take comfort in those numbers, other than knowing there's a brigade of parents out there who've lived through this experience as well. I suppose that is, in a sense, comforting.

So for now we're making do. We're taking shifts in the evenings, which are particularly taxing. I seem to be up with Sam every night/morning from 3-6 a.m., so Jeff compensates by taking him after that so I can sleep a bit more. I'm so lucky to have a flexible schedule and a husband who stays home. This would be infinitely harder without those things.

It's not ideal, but it's doable, and it's temporary. Sam's already four weeks old; that means (if the books are correct) that we should have another three or four weeks of intensifying fussiness followed by improvement, possibly as early as ten weeks of age. By April he should be over the worst of it. I just have to make it through spring break, I guess.

More (with pictures) tomorrow!

I'm starting to realize that Charlotte really wasn't a bad baby. I've been reading up on baby sleep habits (two books: Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child and Good Night Sleep Tight) and have come to the conclusion that all of Charlotte's "bad baby" behavior during the first year/18 months comes down to the fact that Jeff and I had no idea how much sleep a baby really needs, and did little to help foster good sleeping habits early on. The Charlotte who cried inconsolably when she was four, five, six months old was an overly tired, sleep-deprived baby, not an intrisically fussy baby.

All this is to say that I'm worried that Sam is, in fact, that fussy baby. This might be premature, and it could be that my restricted diet will clear up any and all fussy behavior in just a few days (please!), but some of his crying just seems to be crying...not crying from pain, or hunger, or poopy pants. It's crying that I can only console by constant nursing (not really nursing, just hangin' out on the boob, since he's not actually hungry) and allowing him to sleep on me. Sometimes Jeff, but usually me. It's exhausting.

I called my friend Carrie, who is a lactation consultant, to ask her advice regarding Sam's other issue, the gassiness. She said I would have seen some improvement this long after eliminating dairy, which indicates dairy is probably not the culprit. "But don't start eating it again quite yet," she cautioned. How did she know I had a forkful of butter halfway to my mouth?

The upshot is that the best way for me determine what (if anything) in my diet is causing Sam gas pain is by taking out all potential allergens. That leaves me with a severely reduced diet. Essentially you make a list of anything you'd like to eat, and then only eat things not on that list. Fun!

The good news is that I should know relatively quickly whether diet is the culprit here--a week or so. Then I can begin adding items back in one by one, week by week.

Until then, I am trying to remember to take this one day at a time, or even one hour at a time. If I don't sleep well one night, I remind myself that Jeff can watch both kids for a few hours in the morning so I can nap. If Sam wants to nurse for four hours straight (I'm not kidding), I just try to think of it as a good opportunity to get some reading done. And I try to appreciate the little successes, like the fact that right now Sam is actually napping semi-quietly in his cradle.

Baby won't sleep STOP Baby won't stop crying STOP God laughing at my hubris STOP Please send reinforcements FULL STOP

Three Weeks

Our little dude is three weeks old today. He spent most of the day flailing around and farting, which is how he "celebrates" every day, really. Huzzah, Sam! At three weeks, he's getting more and more alert. Today he was awake for a couple of hour-long stretches. His facial bruising (from his rather speedy delivery) is almost entirely gone, although he still has the tiniest remnent of bloodshot eyes. Now his skin tone is more evident: a nice clear tanned-ish complexion like his father's (and utterly unlike pale-as-milk Charlotte and me). His totally awesome hair (seriously, this kid has sweet hair) looks dark brown in some lights, reddish-brown in others. Time will tell.

This week I went off dairy. Sam's grunting and thrashing got worse, especially at night, and occasionally devolved into shrieking in pain. Along with a bit of congestion, this seemed to spell a dairy allergy. I'm not terrible happy to be off dairy (I LOVE MILK PRODUCTS) but I am certainly eager to help Sam get over his gas. So far it seems to have made no difference, but I know you have to wait a couple of weeks for all the dairy to clear your system.

The other big challenge this week was a plugged duct that rapidly turned into full-blown mastitis. I went from "huh, my boob is a little sore" to "KILL ME NOW" fever and chills in no time. I had mastitis once with Charlotte, when she was quite a bit older, and it also snuck up on me then. I think I'm over it now (the fever's gone at least) but I guess I need to be more diligent with my chest-related monitoring.

Apologies to my more sensitive and/or male readers for that last paragraph.

One of my readers (Miz Jean!) asked how I managed to get Charlotte to behave so well at bedtime. After I picked myself up off the floor from the dead faint I experience when I realized someone was coming to ME for sleep advice (HA HA HA!), I pondered. In truth, we did a number of things the experts advise you NOT to do. For one, we switched Charlotte to a big-girl bed from her crib just a couple of months before Sam was born, and immediately after a big move, two large changes that should have affected her sleep negatively. However, in Miss C's case, the big-girl bed was a catalyst for all kinds of good things. Once she was in her bed, she no longer required us holding her/rocking her to sleep. She climbed up, was tucked in, and eventually fell asleep while we sang. I honestly don't know how we got so lucky as to get her to fall asleep on her own. It was a combination of bribery ("Big girls who fall asleep on their own get to go to SCHOOL!") and persuasion (we used the book "How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight" to set an example). And it just worked. She's woken up once or twice, and occasionally spends a bit too long singing to herself in her room after we've left, but for the most part it's been smooth sailing. My gut says the timing was just right.

School started this past week, although I don't have meetings until this coming week. I will have another post on that topic soon.

Aaaaand, pretend there's a nice tidy conclusion here! Good night!

Some bullet points, because I lack the coherence to write a real entry:

• -It's a New Year's Miracle! Those of you who have followed Charlotte from the beginning know we've always struggled with her sleeping issues. I'm sure I've written about it more in depth elsewhere, but I'm too lazy to look it up right now. In short, girlfriend has never been too great about going to sleep or staying asleep. She fought naps from the beginning (something I now realize is likely related to her not getting enough sleep and our not sticking to a schedule) and now doesn't take naps at all. Until this fall, she had to be held, rocked, sung, and pacified (with our fingers as the pacifier) to sleep. Well, friends, those days are over. Not only does Charlotte fall asleep without being physically restrained, but as of this week, she goes to sleep on her own. Let me repeat: she falls asleep ON HER OWN. As in, we tuck her in, sing a couple of songs, say goodnight, and leave the room. And then she goes to sleep! I know that for many of you this is a given...your kids have always gone to sleep well, or at least learned to eventually. Charlotte is 2 1/2 and until this week required active adult intervention to fall asleep. I can't tell you how amazing it is for bedtime to take ten minutes as opposed to thirty, forty-five, an hour. Hallelujah.
• -We're settling into a sort of rhythm here. Sam is a good kid, other than the ongoing gas issues. He seems to have fallen into a schedule of sorts, one I'm sure will change and adapt as he gets older. But right now I'm actually carving out something close to a full night of sleep almost every night/day, and I feel pretty great as a result. Sure, it's two hours here, three hours there, but it's better than only two hours total.
• -I'm very happy with how my body has bounced back after this pregnancy. Much, much faster than last time. I was weighed at the doctor this week, and am down to the weight I was when Charlotte was over a year old already. I'm not back in my pre-baby clothes, but am into the second-wave transition clothes that it took me six months to fit into last time. That's nice. As a result, I'll begin posting over at TigBlob soon. I plan on revisiting the Couch-to-5k program, hopefully finishing in time to run the Klompen Classic in Pella at the beginning of May. I also want to introduce some kind of cardio/strength-training video into my routine...any suggestions?
• -I've decided to give up dairy for a few weeks. Again, my hubris was mocked after I wrote the last entry. That very night Sam began crying out in what had to be pain during some of his grunting gas bouts. That did it; the next day I quit dairy. Let me tell you, I'm not terribly happy about it. Do you know how much I like dairy? And do you know how much stuff contains dairy products? Pretty much everything. I picked up some soy milk so I could continue to drink my morning tea (milk and sugar in my tea is not optional), but I had to scramble for other eating options since I seem to rely on milk products for almost every meal. On that note, I'll be posting some of my go-to non-dairy options over on TigEats soon.

Yesterday, Sam turned two weeks old. As if to celebrate, he seemed to really "wake up" for the first time, spending more than five minutes here and there with his eyes open. Last night, he was awake and alert for more than an hour, content with just looking around, bright-eyed and expressive. Of course, this was when he normally would have been sleeping, and I was eager to go to sleep myself. But I'm learning that there really is no "normal" when you're talking about a newborn and sleep.

Sam is still squawking and grunting a lot, and following it up with epic flatulence. I'm not eager to cut out dairy until I get evidence that he's in pain. Right now, it's just a lot of noise. He actually seems to sleep through it most of the time. The problem is that I don't. We've hit upon a solution, though. For the first part of the night, Jeff takes Sam and rests with him on the couch. This guarantees me at least three hours of sleep in a row, as Sam somehow sleeps more soundly in Jeff's arms than in his cradle, and Jeff sleeps more soundly anywhere than I do. Then Jeff brings in Sam for the post-midnight feed and diaper change, after which we all try to settle in for a couple more hours of sleep. Sometimes this doesn't work too well, especially when Sam is extra noisy. But it's a good compromise--I'm getting some rest, and Sam's sleeping in his cradle at least part of the night. We'll probably stick with this plan until he's about six weeks old, at which age he should be sleeping in his cradle/crib almost all of the time, not in someone's arms (one of the mistakes we made with Charlotte that made it difficult to get her to sleep on her own).

Charlotte is adjusting, too. The past few nights we've tried to get her to bed a bit earlier to counter the late-afternoon emotional breakdowns she's been having. It seems to be helping a bit. She's still more clingy and needy than she was before, but that's to be expected with a new baby. I mean, it's pretty obvious what's wrong when she comes up to me on the brink of tears as I'm nursing Sam (again) and says "I need to cuddle!" I know to her it seems like I'm cuddling Sam all the time...I mean, he is nursing non-stop, so in a sense it is that way. But I try to hand him off to Jeff whenever possible, or set him in his swing, so I can have some hands-on time with Charlotte. It's helping, a bit.

Today is my due date. I am so grateful that I have a two-week-old instead of a 40-week belly. My friend Kristen (who, you might remember, was present at Sam's birth) came over today and we spent some time reminiscing about the delivery. It seems already like it took place so long ago.

So, here's the old boy, and one of my two kids. Two kids! Jeff and I are getting a kick out of talking about our "children." It's weird.

My, what big eyes you have! They look pretty blue here, but there's a little ring of hazel/goldish color around the pupil that makes me think he'll end up with Jeff's eyes.

Sam was tired of wearing pajamas all the time, so we dressed him in tiny man clothes today. Apparently in every shade of blue that exists. And my daughter in pink...I promise I'm not trying specifically to reinforce gendered stereotypes! Sam looks a little thuggish here, flashing his baby gang signs.

Very Funny, God

Two of the constants I mentioned in my post yesterday, two of the things that were keeping me sane, went flying out the window last night. The first: Sam sleeping. Instead of sleeping, he's decided to embark on a nightly melodic recital of pterodactyl grunts and bellows, heralding the soupy-waterfall sound of him filling his diaper or ripping farts like a trucker. The baby is gassy, and not terribly happy about it. I can sleep through some baby sounds, but constant intermittent (every ten minutes) upper-decible grunting is not one of them.

The second: Around 3:30 a.m. this morning, when I finally seemed to have gotten Sam settled and slightly more quiet, Charlotte woke up. Screaming. Wailing. Inconsolable. I went in, hugged her, sang her a song, and then told her to close her eyes and go to sleep. "I will," she promised. Twenty minutes later she was up again, screaming. This time Jeff went in. "NOOOO!" she wailed. "I don't want you!" Then followed hysterical hyperventalating and further protestation. Eventually I took over again, climbing into her bed with her until she settled down. I again wrangled a promise from her to fall asleep, and this time it took. By then it was nearly 6 a.m. and Sam was waking up for another feeding.

The only sleep I got was two hours this morning when Jeff mercifully took both kids downstairs.

Any advice about dealing with a gassy baby is much appreciated. And makeup recommendations to cover undereye circles would also be welcome.

Sam at eleven days old is an old soul who has settled in remarkably well here at home. He's eating like a champ, pooping every hour (I call him the percolator), and sleeping like a newborn (which is to say, most of the day and some of the night). He lost his umbilical cord stump (Charlotte called it the "bilicord") today, and appears to have an outie of sorts. He's back up to his birthweight, and probably a couple ounces more now. His bruising is all but gone save for around his eyes, giving him a winning "prizefighter" appearance. As a result, his complexion has toned down from "grape ape" to "south of france tan." His mysteriously dark brown hair is lovely and fuzzy and spiky, especially after a bath (which he hates). His fingers are long and tapered and beautiful. His eyes are dark blue-gray, and I think will turn hazel like Jeff's. His nose is decidedly like his sister's. His cheeks are starting to round out more, and his dimpled chin is even more distinctive with the added ounces. He is adorable in that squashy newborn way.

The rest of us aren't quite as adorable these days. I'm happy to be making a quick physical recovery from this pregnancy, but I'm afraid I've once again been hit with the baby blues. Every day around twilight I start to stare into the middle distance. This eventually devolves into weepy statements such as "I'm failing my daughter," and "I'm going to be a horrible mother of two," etc. This mood usually subsides after an hour or two, but I dread it every day (as, I'm sure, does Jeff). I'm not helped by sleep loss. While I'm doing a much better job sleeping in the same room as Sam than I did with Charlotte, there's no changing the fact that, like most newborns, Sam's up every couple of hours to eat. Feedings plus diaper changes can take up to an hour, so that cuts back on my sleep time. All normal, I know, but requiring adjustment. At least I can read while I nurse. I've gotten through four novels since Sam was born just by reading during feedings.

Jeff is adjusting, too. Yesterday he semi-jokingly asked if there's such a thing as post-partum depression for fathers. He might be sleeping better than me, but he's picking up all my slack around the house and with Charlotte, and that's taking its toll. Plus, I think we'd both gotten used to our wonderful, easy life with one easy-going child.

Speaking of Charlotte...well, a few times in the past eleven days I've wondered if someone swapped our delightful, self-sufficient, cheerful child for this defiant, moody brat who has come to live with us. She loves Sam (mostly), but obviously senses a dynamic shift she doesn't approve of. As a result, she's talking back, screaming, whining, throwing things, refusing to eat, refusing to use the potty...and sometimes melting into tears. She often insists on being swaddled in a blanket and picked up like a baby. I try to give her extra time and attention, but my attention is divided, obviously. One thing that hasn't been affected, fortunately, is Charlotte's sleep. She's still sleeping through the night, often up to twelve hours. Last night she slept from 7 p.m. to 8 a.m.

Today I wondered if Charlotte perhaps needs some evidence that there is life outside our house, life involving other children her own age. I'm looking into some early preschool options. Nothing huge, just a couple mornings a week. But I hope social activity with other whining brats, oops, I mean adorable toddlers will help her return to some semblence of old Charlotte.

I typed most of this post one-handed while nursing. I'm nothing if not adaptable.

Also, I have to give a shout-out to Uncles Mark and Scott (a.k.a Awesome) who are celebrating birthdays today. There's a special something coming in the mail for both of you. I promise it's not the umbilical cord stump. OR IS IT!?