It's been a while since I've had the headspace to sit down and compose something that isn't a murk of pitiful junk. The last two weeks have been a blur of doctor's appointments, no sleep, time outs, and increasing distress at the thought of going back to work.
To catch you up quickly: Chloe is sleeping like buttah. She goes down around 11 pm, swaddled up nice n' tight (thank you Internets and Happiest Baby!). She then sleeps for about 4-5 hours (last night it was SIX!) without a peep, and then I feed her, and she goes back down for a bit. MP barges into our room at 6:45 AM (otherwise known as ButtCrackAM in this house) with immediate and protracted whining about how she would like to go downstairs, so she's sent off to her room while I try to grumpily adjust to the next 13 hours and two kids without help.
Chloe (AKA Growler Monkey, Pip, and Fussy McGillicutty) weighs about 11 lbs, 4 oz, which is fantastico. She still nurses constantly some days, but then breaks the pattern the next day and gives me room to breathe. The days after she cluster nurses, she seems to have gained a lot overnight, so I think she's growth spurting like crazy. She barely fits into her newborn clothes anymore and she's almost in size 2 diapers, which makes me weepy and proud all at the same time. I'm still exclusively breastfeeding and all sorts of things have gotten easier--Chloe is a much better latcher (and can even do it herself once in a while), it doesn't hurt, and I've successfully NIP'ed many, many times already--in the movie theatre, Wee Play (a giant emporium of toys where kids can run around like maniacs), in my backyard whilst chatting with the neighbors, in my car in a parking lot, at my daughter's 3rd birthday party. Only once have I looked down in horror to see my boob. I use the Bebe Au Lait (a nursing cover) because when you're this big your baby's head doth not cover much.
My finger, afflicted with something called a pyogenic granuloma (basically, a growth made up of capillaries; your body tries to heal a cut and weirdly and randomly 'overheals' itself and the tissue pops out of your skin--verrrrrry cute, lemme tell you), got steadily grosser and I was ordered to visit my primary care physician pronto. He laughed in my face and gave me the name of a dermatologist, who also laughed in my face. Meanwhile, the thing got bigger and bigger and bled more and more. Finally I got an appointment with a plastic surgeon, who told me that "it was the worse he'd ever seen" and who elected to burn it over the course of a week with silver nitrate. My finger turned black and looked as if it might rot off. MP told me "I think your booboo is kind of yucky" and said "ewwww" whenever she saw it. Finally my plastic surgeon (I can't tell you how much I wanted to ask him his rates for tummy tucks) excised the bugger and stitched up my finger, so now I have a frankenfinger and MP still grimaces in horror everytime she sees it (which is all the time, since I am not allowed to wear any more bandages). The thing is stitched up with black wire and now it looks like I've got a large spider perched on the end of my damaged finger; I have jolted more than once from alarm thinking this and snapped Chloe out of her nursing reverie. Plus it catches on everything and I find myself pulling tiny snagged threads from my finger all day long. I will not be getting a manicure for a while.
MP is going through a lovely stage where all it seems she does is whine, throw fits, and declare items in the house hers ("Is this mine? Who bought this?"--the other day whilst talking with my father MP demanded that when he visit he bring her a present). Our reaction to the insane amount of toys and gifts that she has (her birthday was recent) and her attitude about possessions has been to take some of her toys and put them away, to which she has no reaction whatsoever ("that's okay," she says, "you can throw it out. You can buy me more. Don't worry about it"). Writing it sounds funny, but when it happens I find myself bristling with annoyance that she could be turning a bit bratty. She gets in trouble constantly at daycare (she goes once a week, twice if I have to work). She's so sweet most of the time, and hungry for attention, and I know it must be really, really tough to go from being the center of everything to big sister, so we're trying to make her feel special and extra loved. She's amazing with Chloe--I couldn't ask for a better helper.
Here are the two girls together--Chloe was trying to nurse on MP's arm, heh. In the final picture in this set (I took about 50) Chloe has her mouth wide open and is angrily dive-bombing for MP's shoulder. MP's reaction: "It's okay, baby can eat my arm."
*Stuffs because MP says that instead of "Stuff."