one week

So. We've made it through the first seven days. I am really, really tired (but that's down from three reallys so that's actually an improvement).

The first night home (Friday) was probably the worst. Little Miss Amy, bless her stinkin' heart, was awake from midnight until 4 a.m. I'd nurse her, put her down, and in five minutes she'd start crying again. She only wanted to be held, having apparently decided that her bassinet was actually some sort of medieval torture device. (Just be glad we didn't spring for the Deluxe Model, baby; it comes with thumbscrews.) I finally let her sleep on top of me, which I hate to do, but I was so tired I couldn't even walk in a straight line. And I was thinking, oh great, we have a High Maintenance Baby.

Things got a lot better on Saturday, though. I think it helped that the milk factory was fully operational, and she was no longer convinced that she would starve to death if we left her for a few minutes. She slept for about a four-hour stretch that morning (why is that four and hour don't rhyme? They should) and I was able to focus my eyes and form complete sentences again, so that was great. She's doing a lot better with sleeping in her own bed now.

Another thing Amy doesn't like, along with hats, the evil bassinet, and the green pacifier (the blue one is fine) is burping. Amy says this is because she is a lady. Even Matt has a hard time coaxing more than a dainty 'urp' out of her after a feeding. The problem is, a baby who doesn't let loose like a trucker after nursing is a baby who's going to wake up crying five minutes down the road, just in time to douse her sympathetic parent with Pasteurized Dairy Food Product. All that puke necessitated a sponge bath on Sunday night, if only to clean out her neck folds and her little ears. I put her in the baby bathtub and filled a separate container with warm water; I don't know why I didn't think of that sooner, it's a lot easier than trying to wash a screaming slippery baby on the countertop. Amy, however, thought this was a Singularly Bad Idea and did not hesitate to say so. However, she survived the experience even though she insisted she wouldn't, and I only wish you could all feel how velvety-soft her head is when it's been freshly washed. Also, her hair looks a lot blonder when it's clean. Gross as that may be, I always found it to be a fairly reliable indicator of when Betsy needed a bath. I just wish babies were like the water filter in my fridge, where the green light turns to yellow and then red.

Mandy and Miles came up on Sunday, so we could get a picture of all five cousins together.

Check it out, Betsy is actually smiling at the camera! Which kind of makes up for what Porter is doing.

We also had a delicious cake
and didn't give Amy a bite.