One Month

Thanks for the sticker, CRS!

Abby turned one month old on Monday. To celebrate, the whole family went mattress shopping. At one store Greg held Abby in the sling while we tested out what felt like a million mattresses (OK, there were probably only eight). FYI: The mattress business is a total sham and shopping for one can be uber frustrating. Success finally when we ordered a king set to be delivered in about a week. Woo-hoo!

The following day Abby and I went to Mommy-Baby Yoga class. She was cranky in the morning from such a stimulating day prior. I thought she would scream to high heaven at yoga and was prepared to make a mad dash for the door. Surprise! She loved it. Abigail became so relaxed during the class that I wanted to bear hug my yoga instructor. But that would have been embarrassing. Abby and I have, however, been doing yoga moves at home - one yogasippi, two yogasippi, three yogasippi. . .

got milk?

Milk. My life now revolves around milk. Does Abby want milk? Does Abby want MORE milk? Oops, Abby had too much milk. . .

Now there's milk on Abby's clothes, mommy's clothes, the boppy pillow and the couch.

Couldn't get that burp out? Fermented milk on Daddy's cashmere sweater.

The laundry load has tripled. Abby is still less than 10 pounds and just over a foot and a half long and the laundry load has still tripled. How is that possible?

Milk.

I washed the duvet cover and comforter four times this past week. Admittedly, once was not because of spit-up milk. To add insult to injury Desmond hacked up a huge hairball on the bed. Guess he wanted to get in on the action.

There are burp cloths placed strategically all over the house.

Often a bath is the consequence of a major milk spit-up.

Last week Abby and I went to two mommy-baby groups which revolved around, you guessed it, milk. We attended a breastfeeding support group at the hospital and a La Leche League meeting that was more local. Abigail slept through both. When she woke she wanted, of course, milk.

We love her dearly. According to her clothing she loves us too. By the way, both of those onesies eventually ended up sporting milk.

V-Day

Valentine's Day started out blah. Abby and I were up much of the night so we ate and slept on and off until 2 PM. At this point we felt completely unproductive. I decided to finally put Abby's handprints and footprints in her baby book. Note: trying to get an awake newborn to flatten her hand is futile. All I got out of it was a newborn with ink on her left hand. She immediately smeared the ink onto her face. No prints in the book.

After a bath and a walk outside we felt a little better. Abby sported her Valentine's Day bib, courtesy of Erin.

She stared at her turtle friends in the pack n' play long enough for me to take a picture and start dinner.

Shortly thereafter Greg came home with flowers for the both of us. Abby received her own tiny bouquet!

What an exhausting day.

Rule of Three

Monday was our third outing with Abby, requiring us to be at a certain place at certain time.

Once again, we were late.

Adding an extra half hour to preparation time isn't enough to get a newborn out the door. Doubling preparation time isn't enough when the newborn spews her morning milk all over mom and herself, requiring changing, a sponge bath and another meal. In the future I will multiply the amount of time normally needed to get ready by three. I suspect three is the magic number. . .

Party all Night

Sleep all Day

Convict

Fashion faux pas by me, the mom. The organic cotton onesie and matching pants seemed like such a cute idea at the time. I guess this is why it was on clearance at Target.

It hasn't escaped my notice that this prison break outfit is huge on Abigail. It's 0-3 months. So I've learned that baby clothing can be just as temperamental as jeans. The sizes are NOT standardized among different brands. Abby fits fine in many 0-3 month clothes.