Eight Weeks Old

I love being a Mom. Absolutely love it.

The irony of this is not lost on me, as having children was never on my wish list. Thankfully, God is in control and not my 25-year-old self. (It's also a good thing said self was never given a glimpse into the future, as she would probably have died from shock had she seen me enjoying life as a stay-at-home-mom, which she considered the ultimate dead-end job. Although she probably would have envied my cooking skills a little.)

All that to say, I've relished the last eight weeks. Teyla has completely stolen my heart. Her little face brings a smile to mine even at 3:30 in the morning.

Let's get right to the update, shall we?

Developmentally, Teyla is right on track. Her neck is freakishly strong. She could hold her head up at one week of age, as could Connor and Natalie. She can focus on objects and track them when they move. (I say when not if, because ... ummm ... have you met Connor?) She can stand on our laps and support her own weight, and she turns her head in response to sounds, especially our voices.

But by far the coolest milestones of this last month have been the cooing and the smiling.

Want to see?!?

Here's a picture of her big smile. It's a little blurry and dark, but it's hard to use a flash five inches from a baby's face and still have a happy baby. Go figure.





















Here are a few more shots of the happiness. Notice the double chin. That cracks me up.









































And the cooing? Oh. My. Word. She coos at me, I coo back, she breaks into a huge smile and coos again. It's at this point that I have to stop and mop my heart off the floor where it's just melted into a huge, gooey puddle of sap.

Wanna see this too? Here's a clip. (I love the Internet.)



And really, that's like caveman talk compared to the cooing she can do now. We're talking full-blown conversations here. I think she's even starting to say an infant form of "Dude!"
















Personality wise, she's an easy-going, happy baby.

Unless you have the audacity to put her in her car seat.

Don't believe me?



Oh yes. The cry of the tortured child. Maligned. Rejected. Forced to sit in a warm, soft pocket of fleece while I drive her sister to and from school. Poor thing.

But aside from the car seat, Teyla is remarkably content. She's settled into a tiny rhythm. She wakes, eats, plays and then goes back to sleep in roughly three- or four-hour intervals. At night, she sleeps in four- or five-hour chunks -- which is completely do-able for me.

Tangent alert , but many of you have asked how I'm doing with the sleep deprivation. My answer? What sleep deprivation? Consider, if you will, that I worked the overnight shift at the TV station for more than two years. Two. Years. I went to work at 11:00 PM, returned home around 9:00 or 10:00 AM and tried to sleep while the San Diego sunshine poured in my windows. (Yes, I had blinds, but the San Diego sun scoffs at blinds.) I rarely got more than four hours of sleep before I gave up and started mainlining coffee. It was a miserable existence.

By the end of my two years, I was so utterly exhausted, I fantasized about driving my car into a tree on the way to work just so I could sleep for a few hours in the hospital. I spent most of my weekend hours sobbing to my husband that I couldn't go on. "I'm just so tired," I would wheeze and moan. I totally understand why sleep deprivation works as a torture technique.

So waking once or twice a night to spend 30 minutes feeding a tiny baby doesn't even phase me.

There. That's my tough-as-nails moment for the day.

Moving on.

Teyla's favorite activity is probably her nightly bath. (Double chin + spit-up = nightly bath.) I think she's fascinated by the water. As soon as I lower her in, she turns her head to the side, opens her mouth and licks at the water. Cracks me up every time.





















Hmmm. This is turning into a really long post. Maybe I should speed this up.

Teyla prefers to sleep in her own bed, versus my bed, the car seat (noted), the swing or any other contraption. This is in stark contrast to my other children, who would sleep anywhere but the crib.

Her favorite way to be lulled into dreamland is to have Mom or Dad walk the halls while holding her close. Favorite lullaby? Skinnamarinkidinkidink.

(No, a cat didn't just walk across my keyboard. Just click on the link.)

(And if you seriously think I would consider letting a cat in my house again -- sorry Queen B -- you are way beyond help. Someday, I'll share my cat stories, and you will understand.)

And finally, if you were to meet Teyla and me in the grocery store today, chances are good you say one of two things. ("Aren't you Kelly from Love Well?!?" isn't one of them.)

Either, "Oh my word, that baby is so tiny." Because she is still really small. Even with double chins.

Or "Oh my goodness, that baby has a ton of hair!"

And that, my friends, is indisputable.





















Until next month.