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I’m pretty sure this is the first time anyone has ever tagged me for a meme. Whee!

So, ok. Six weird things about me. Here goes:

1. I am a compulsive food hoarder. I buy all kinds of junk food, which I mostly don’t eat, it just somehow comforts me to know that it’s there (in case of emergencies or whatever). Which sucks for Dave, because he cannot resist the junk food. So he eats it, and then I have to buy more to hoarde. It’s a vicious cycle. We both need help.

2. I have two tattoos: a wilted lily on my ankle (because I was very sad when I was 21) and the symbol for Capricorn between my shoulders. I also went through a piercing phase in college, which was kind of funny because I had to take all of them out (well, the visible ones) every time I saw my parents. The only one that I miss is my eyebrow ring, because I thought I looked pretty cute with it. I suppose I could get it redone now - the culture of the Pacific Northwest is such that it really wouldn’t be a hindrance to my career at all - but it seems sort of lame to go back to body piercing in my 30’s.

3. I still sleep with the security blanket that I’ve had since I was a week old. And it’s still in one piece. I’ve tried to give it up a few times - particularly during middle and high school, when it was not exactly a cool thing to bring to sleepovers - but I have nightmares when I sleep without it. So the blankie has stuck around. And whenever Dave teasingly takes it away from me, I get really irrationally upset.

4. Before I moved to the boonies, I never left the house without make-up on, ever. I do now, on occasion, if I’m only going to the grocery store or something like that. Believe me, the women that live around here? Even without mascara, I’m still pretty hot by comparison. I guess farm life must make you age prematurely or something - there are some seriously hard-lookin’ ladies in these parts. 

5. This is one that drives Dave absolutely insane: I talk during movies. I’m one of those annoying movie trivia people. “Hey, that’s the guy who was in such-and-such,” that kind of thing. I know it bothers him, so I try to keep my mouth shut, I really do, but I just cannot rein in my random little factoids.

6. One of my favorite foods from my childhood is peanut butter and grape jelly - not on a sandwich, mind you, but spooned into a bowl and then stirred into a disgustingly brown mess. With a glass of (lactose-free) milk on the side. Yum.

People I’m tagging: Cat, Danielle, Cara and Sally. But, you know, only if you want to. No pressure.

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Cate’s two month pediatrician appointment was this afternoon. Baby Girl now weighs 11 pounds, 7 ounces - she’s basically doubled her birth weight. I guess that explains those chubby little cheeks, no?

She also got four vaccines today. I made Dave come with us, so I wouldn’t be the evil mommy who takes her to the mean doctor’s office. It’s only fair, we both had to endure the Wrath. Have you ever seen a baby open her mouth in a scream face and no noise comes out for like ten seconds, because there’s a really long inhale that’s leading to one ginormous, earth-splitting shriek? Yeah, we had that. It was pretty awful.

Before the doctor’s appointment, she was all happy and playful. And since today is my dad’s birthday, I made a movie of her this morning “dancing” in her new bouncer, which she absolutely adores. (The other bouncer, which I bought at a garage sale for $3, lives in our bathroom so I have a place to put her when I need to get dressed or take a shower.)

Notice the collar on her pajamas there? The poor baby has like five chins and almost no neck, so I can’t button the top snap on most of her little outfits. The end result is a little Tom Jones-ish. I think I need to get her some gold necklaces and maybe draw on some fake chest hair to complete the look.

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Today is Cate’s two month birthday. I thought about writing one of those monthly “dear baby” letters that a lot of bloggers do, but I’m not sure where to start with that. So instead, here are some milestones from this past month:

* Cate now smiles in reaction to us, but it isn’t entirely consistent yet. There are times when my refined sense of comedy seems lost on her (meaning, I make goofy smiley faces at her, or do silly little dances, and she just stares at me like I’m crazy). Oh well, we’ll work on continuing to develop her sense of humor in the future. She’ll be cracking up at Monty Python movies with us in no time.

* She’s getting really good control of her head, and I stopped wearing my engagement ring the day she thrashed her head right smack into the corner of the diamond. The screaming that ensued broke my heart, I almost cried for her. It left a mark on her temple, and I felt absolutely horrid. So, it’s just my simple little wedding band for the foreseeable future.

* She can also do push-ups when Dave or I put her lying tummy-down on us - I think she wants to raise herself up to look at us. But Baby Girl is super strong, even though the motivation seems to be lacking when it comes to her little “tummy time” playmat, because all she does is fuss when we try to lay her on it.

* She makes little talky noises when she’s happy. And in fact, she’s already had her first word: “hey!” Ok, it doesn’t count because she doesn’t know what it means, but we thought it was funny. She also says “nih” a lot, which brings up all kinds of jokes about how she is of the Knights Who Say Nih (see, I told you we’re working that Monty Python angle). And apparently she’s already a fan of Indian food, since she talks an awful lot about ghee.

* She’s almost figured out the pacifier thing. Once she gets it in her mouth, she really seems to like it, and it does calm her down when she’s fussy (for example, in the car seat). But I kind of have to hold it in her mouth, because she can’t seem to hang onto it herself for very long. I’ve tried at least four or five different types so far, but it’s all pretty hit-or-miss.

* Last night she slept for four and a half hours - from 12:30 to 5 a.m. Which would’ve been a lot more awesome if I hadn’t been tossing and turning until 2 a.m. (I was doing that thing where you think about all of the items on your to-do list and can’t shut your brain off. Fun!) Oh well, hopefully it’s the start of a new trend. Fingers crossed, anyway.

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The hospital where Catie was born has a support group for new moms (the 0-3 month crowd). I’ve been meaning to go for, oh, the past 7 weeks or so. But every week, I’d end up sleeping through it, which is the kind of thing that happens a lot when your schedule is dictated by a newborn.

I finally managed to get there this week, and honestly, I totally hated it. Have you ever been in a situation where there’s a group leader who goes around the room and everyone has to introduce themselves? And then you have to say some interesting tidbit about yourself too? Those scenarios remind me of school, and they give me anxiety attacks. So I guess I’m just not a big group type, and that’s fine.

I realize, of course, that there’s a difference between a support group, and, say, a mommy playgroup or something. So it’s entirely possible that I might enjoy a different setting. But there’s this other strange thing that I learned about myself yesterday: I generally feel like I’m doing ok at this mommy gig, but if you put me in a room full of other moms, I feel completely incompetent. It isn’t just the breastfeeding thing, although, yes, I was self-conscious about mixing up a bottle in that room when a lot of other women were nursing their babies. I have no idea why I feel this way, but as soon as I walked in the room, I had to fight the urge to either cry or run out of there. I know that it’s all in my head, and it’s not at all a reflection on the people there. All the other moms seemed lovely and nice, this is just my own little neurosis.

After I got home, I started thinking that since I’m obviously not the mommy group type, I have to come up with something else to get myself out of the house so I don’t go crazy or turn into some kind of hermit. Before Cate was born, I had this romantic notion in my head of being a stay-at-home mom, and how I’d meet and become friends with other moms, and life would be one big happy playdate after another. Clearly, that is not going to be the case. And that’s alright, this is just reality setting in.

So I’m thinking about going back to work. Probably just part-time, and I’m not in any big rush - I’m not even planning to update my resume until Cate is consistently sleeping through the night. But I think it’d be good for all of us: since Dave works from home, it’ll keep us from getting on each other’s nerves (trust me, 24/7 is a bit much for even the healthiest marriage), and I think part-time daycare will be good for Cate too.

In light of that little epiphany, I decided to make the most of my remaining time of unemployment. So next month, Cate and I are going to my hometown to see my folks. I found a great rate on airfare, and I’m calling it my parents’ combination Mother’s and Father’s Day gift. They’re thrilled to get a week of grandbaby time - I mean, I’m sure they’re happy to see me too, but mostly it’s all about her.

So hey, if any of you happen to be in the vicinity of Jackson, Missisippi, from April 18th to 24th, let me know and we’ll have cocktails. Bonus points if we can include fried okra. (God, I miss the South sometimes.)

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Cate is on her fifth outfit in less than 24 hours. Two she’s spit up on, and two she’s peed on. I’m hoping that five is our lucky number, at least for a few hours.

The spit-up thing is kind of funny. Yesterday afternoon, Cate had this enormous projectile barf; she got me, herself, and the chair I was sitting on. It was one of those barfs that was so huge that I just froze in shock. I didn’t know how to move without making the situation worse, so instead I yelled for Dave. He took the baby off of me and helped clean me up. It was quite gross, although we laughed about it, because really, what else can you do?

Then when I was feeding her in our bed at 4:00 this morning, I thought to myself that I was really lucky that she’d never spit up in bed, so I haven’t had to change the sheets in the middle of the night. Of course, a mere moment after that thought went through my stupid little head, she did indeed spit up. But I managed to catch it all with the burp cloth, so none of it got on either me or the bed. I was very proud of myself for my lightning-fast reflexes (and at 4 a.m., no less!). I had to change Cate’s pajamas and give her a little washcloth sponge bath, but no big deal, right?

So perhaps I was a little smug, and the Puke Gods decided that I needed to be brought down a notch. Because that’s the only explanation I have as to why, a few hours later, Teenie barfed the largest hairball I’ve ever seen, right smack in the middle of our bed. Alas, I dodged the baby barf, but I could not escape the cat barf. So it’s yet another unplanned Laundry Day for me. Fun!

As for the gas/colic situation, thank you for the suggestions. It seems to be a little better now. I’ve tried the leg-pumping thing, although I’m not sure if it helps or if it just distracts her for a minute because she can’t figure out what the hell I’m doing to her. The anti-gas drops mixed with her formula seem to help more than anything. And sometimes I walk around with her lying tummy-down on my forearm (sort of holding her like a football, I guess), and as long as I keep moving and keep the constant pat-pat-pat on her back, that seems to be ok too.

Another question for the moms out there: do/did your babies scream when they poop? The pediatrician said it’s normal, but it freaks me out. I know she’s not constipated, but whenever she goes, it sounds like she’s in pain. What the heck is that about?

Oh, and the last few nights, she’s slept for four hours before she woke up hungry. Ok, it isn’t exactly a huge leap over the three hour sleep segments that we were getting before, but I’ll take whatever I can get.

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I know it’s silly, but the one anonymous comment on this post really rubbed me the wrong way. But then, anonymous comments in general just sort of bug me. If you have something to say, admit who you are. If you don’t want it published on the Internet, fine, email me privately. But either way, just own up to it, because the anonymous thing is really chicken sh*t.

But there’s also the whole “think of the baby!” aspect that I find sort of offensive. The implication seems to be that I don’t think of Cate as a factor in pretty much every single millisecond of my life. Believe me, if I thought that my daughter was in any way getting short-changed by my moodiness, I would talk to someone about it. I thought I made it pretty clear that I’m not really depressed, I’m just exhausted. Which, in turn, makes me really moody. So unless my doctor is going to come to my house to take over a 3 a.m. feeding, I don’t think there’s a whole heck of a lot she can do for me.

The only way that Cate is suffering right now is that sometimes when I’m really tired, I can’t remember the lyrics to any songs to sing to her while I’m feeding her or to settle her down when she’s upset. Which means that she has to endure another round of “Killing Me Softly,” which is for some ungodly reason the only song that I can always remember every single word. Go figure - 3000 songs on my iPod, and that’s the only one that comes to mind in the middle of the night. But Cate actually seems to like my version of Ms. Roberta Flack’s biggest hit, so I think we’re ok. (Incidentally, did you know that song is about Don McLean? How random is that?)

The point is, Mister or Miss “concerned,” whoever you are: you need not worry about the welfare of my child, because she’s just fine. And I will be too, as soon as I start getting a decent amount of sleep. End of subject.

New topic: hey look, more baby videos! Sorry, I know it’s probably getting annoying, but we’re first-time parents and we find this stuff endlessly entertaining.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everybody!

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Cate seems to have entered the colic stage, so our evenings are filled with much screaming. I’m not sure why she’s ok in the morning, but there you go. Anyway, since colic seems to be gas related, this is a good example of how Dave and I are spending an awful lot of our time right now:

I’m not sure if anyone else will find that nearly as funny as I do, probably because I’m completely exhausted, and because I suddenly have a great appreciation for the few non-screamy moments that we get right now.

Oh, and yes, we are trying a few things to ease her discomfort - peppermint candies dissolved in water seem to help (sugar water is a laxative, peppermint is a tummy soother), as do the infant gas relief drops in her bottles. And I’ve gone back to trying some of the tricks from The Happiest Baby on the Block, but that only seems to work for a couple of minutes, and then she’ll start screaming again. Dave says that you can practically watch her mind going, “Hmm, this is ok. Let’s see… am I still upset? Why yes, I think I am. Waaaaahhhhh!!!!” 

So yeah, that’s fun.

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