To Sleep Or Not To Sleep...

We've been bragging to folks lately that Casey is in such a good "phase" of her (short, thus far) life.

She's just such an incredibly happy girl, and we seldom hear crying. If anything, there might be a couple of moments in the day where a quite whimper signifies hunger, but once she's promised food, she patiently awaits it. Other than her "feed me now!" warning, we are literally dealing with a perfectly-behaved and contented baby.

Not only is she not fussing, but Casey's actually laughing and smiling at anyone who'll smile back, kicking her legs and flailing her arms when folks pay her attention, and playing independently (and for decent periods of time) on her tummy, back, sitting up, etc.

But... last evening and tonight were slightly less easy. I can't tell if Casey is teething or gassy or WHAT, but Tee Jay and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. We even piggy-backed "baby duty" this morning while the other parent napped.

Tonight had all the makings for a similar experience when nothing would soothe the girl upstairs. I tried feeding her. We sat with her in our bed. The rocking chair was put to good use. A teething ring came out of the freezer. We briefly discussed the idea of letting Casey "cry it out," but though we try to make our own parenting decisions, we also give credence to Dr. Sears, who suggests that in the first six months of your baby's life, they are building trust with you and shouldn't be left to soothe themselves.

So down the stairs our girlie came, and she thankfully was content to play in her bouncy seat. Casey fell asleep at 10:00PM in this position, keeping a monster grip on her dangling toys...

Five Months Old...

Overheard On Our TV...

Dennis Miller on The O'Reilly Factor:

Listen, here’s my feeling on hot dogs... I know they’re crap; that’s what I dig about them! I don’t need a warning label on it. Just like when people who smoked cigarettes said there was no warning label, you wanna say, “If you didn’t know smoking was bad for you, you’re lying through the hole in your trachea!”

I dig the fact that hot dogs are crap...

Now THERE'S a man after my husband's heart.

Slacker!...

Yes, I am an eternal blog-slacker, and I apologize for that... but maybe I should have entitled this post "Slackers" in plural, since Tee Jay has never once posted (not even when Casey was born and I had just had 'major abdominal surgery' - as we like to call it in our house).

Anyhoo, things have been super busy since I've returned to work, and the blog has suffered in response.

All in all, it's going well. Casey is absolutely thriving at day care. She is eating three 4-oz. bottles each day and sometimes wants an extra little snack right around the time I'm due to get her in the evening. That's a huge leap from the half-ounce here and half-ounce there routine for the first few days when she wasn't too sure of her surroundings.

Can't you just see the adorable chubby-ness here?


I'm learning how to not necessarily thrive, but at least survive. Work is super busy, especially since a gal went out on maternity leave as soon as I started back (she's in labor AS I TYPE THIS! - the doctor was just called in, so we know little Michael is arriving soon, soon, soon).

And home life is keeping just as hectic. In the mornings, I get myself dressed and brush my teeth and hair before getting Casey out of her crib and fed. Then she is changed and strapped into the car seat so that I can grab her bottles, my breastpump and all of its supplies, and anything else necessary (new diapers or wipes, spare bibs and clothes, etc.) for the daycare.

In the evenings, we try to spend all of Casey's awake time just playing with and enjoying her to the fullest. Once she's in bed, we run around desperately trying to do laundry, wash dishes, prepare bottles for the next day, and get ourselves showered (since the mornings are too cramped at this point).

It's tiring, but hey... it's PARENTHOOD, right????

Independence!...

If a geneticist were to carefully examine a sample of Casey's blood, we're fairly confident he/she would find traces of French, German, Scots-Irish, Welsh, and Belgian ancestry. If not more.

To many, this would classify Casey as a "mutt" - to us, she's simply all-American.


Thank God for the freedom and privileges our country provides! Now if only we could tune into the Bristol 4th of July Parade on our TV sets here in Philadelphia...