This second month has been nuts. When I call the pediatrician, they know who I am when I say my name. I think Olivia is that patient who has that mother who calls about everything.
We've gone from, like, NO SLEEPING AT ALL EVER! To sleeping for FIVE HOUR STRETCHES and SOMETIMES SIX EXCLAMATION POINT.
Mark thinks that Olivia is never going to learn her name. Because I think of something new to call her every day. Sometimes twice a day. Sometimes twice an hour. In no particular order:
Olivia. O. Livie. Liv. Livie Lou. Livie Lou Lou. Livie Lou Lou Lou Lou LOU! Lou Lou. Honey. Honey Punkin. Punk. Punky Brewster. Sweetie Peetie. Stinky Linky. Stinky Linky Linky. Chubby Cheekers. Chubby Cheeky. Chubby Cheeky Monkey. Pretty Girl. Pwetty Gwirl. Bootiful Girl. MAH BAYYYYBEEEE!
Is it worse to not know your name? Or to answer to, "Hey, kid!"
Olivia does a lot of the same things outside of my uterus as she did inside. At all of our ultrasounds, Olivia had her hands on or around her face. And she still does that!
And she is awake at all the same times. Every.single.night during my third trimester, I would bolt awake at 3 a.m. and wonder if my uterus exploded, only to find that it was just Olivia trying to bicycle her way out of my belleh. You can always count on Olivia being hungry at 3 a.m. And she's always awake at 10, 1, and 6 - her most active movement times in utero.
Much like her mother, Olivia loves to eat. Loves it. In fact, she screams when you take away her bottle. Which explains the recent development of rubber band wrists.
Not only does Olivia look exactly like me, but it appears that she may be plagued with my odd body shape (sorry, O - just get used to the fact that no pants will fit you right. Ever). Right now, she has outgrown her newborn clothes, but 0-3 too big. So most of the time she looks completely ridiculous, because I try to force fashion upon her because there is so much baby Gap in her closet and it goes so well with her new NOMable chubby thighs.
Leave my thighs alone, mom. Seriously.
The newest glorious thing to happen is that Olivia loves her cradle swing. LOVES her cradle swing. Like, will sleep in her swing for 3 hours during the day. Which causes me to wonder...is Fisher Price two people? Are they men? Because I love the cradle swing so much that I would totally, totally make out with one or both of them.
The reflux. Sometimes better, sometimes not. There is no more blood in the stool, so we are just waiting until the May 1st appointment with the gastroenterologist to make sure everything is OK. We're sticking with the Alimentum, Rice Cereal, and Zantac.
5 Weeks: Oh, hello mother. This thing is WAY more interesting than you and Daddy.
6 Weeks: Tummy time is the worst, people.
7 Weeks: Did somebody say fresh diaper?
8 Weeks: This crib is a total waste of space. Taking photos in it makes the cost seem justified.
Two months! I swear, babies age in dog years. We keep looking at toys, and all of the 3+ month toys are SO COOL. And it is crazy to think that Olivia will be able to play with them in another month. And in another month? She will be a quarter of a year old.
Elton Johnnepper...her future's so bright, she's gotta wear shades.
I think we're going to have so much fun together.