Sorry about the quiet spell. Our internet connection has been troublesome lately. I swear, we had more reliable service in Eastern Europe. That's spooky.
Anyway, more on the Holidays: our daughter has met two of her three cousins so far: a three-and-a-half-year-old girl and a ten-month-old boy. Her cousine likes horsey rides, Disney Princesses, and opening presents. Her cousin likes getting ready to walk, putting things in his mouth, and pounding things that don't fit into his mouth.

She is two months old now. Yesterday baby "Gigi" hit the two-month mark, marking the occasion with a visit to the pediatrician. She now weighs seven pounds, 14 ounces and is over 21 inches tall. She's catching up, I tell you. She also got her first round of immunizations, marking the occasion by howling and crying in such a way as to make Nancy Kerrigan look like a friggin' Stoic. My poor baby!

My in-laws know me better than I thought. For Christmas, I got the remake of The Stepford Wives on DVD, and the restored edition of Ariel by Sylvia Plath. You can't tell me that doesn't sum up the back-to-work vs stay-at-home dilemma neatly and concisely.

Baby "Gigi" met Santa yesterday. (Yes, Mom, you will get pictures.) She was very well-behaved throughout. She's getting to be a very sociable child, enjoying large gatherings with minimal fuss. She could also sleep through a riot, I think.
I'm not sure whether to be worried about the fact that our baby will let pretty much anyone hold her. On the plus side, there's no risk of a new acquaintance being offended when the baby starts howling in protest, and we don't have to worry about her being attached to either of us like Velcro in order to maintain peace and harmony. On the down side, we're going to have to teach her to be, shall we say, more discriminating about strangers as she gets older. Once she learns to walk I'll need a lifetime supply of Xanax.
But for tonight, she is still a wee thing safe in her mother's arms. She will attend, for the first time, her paternal grandparents' traditional Christmas Eve party. This annual gathering features Swedish dishes prepared solely for the event, plus my mother-in-law's awesome rice pudding with raspberry sauce. Waistbands, prepare to surrender.

Milestone! Baby has taken her first plane trip, and everyone's eardrums survived intact. We took a short flight to visit her paternal grandparents, and she was an angel. Considering how much traveling this kid did in utero, it's not too surprising that she's so far a pretty good passenger. The only major fussiness was when she desparately needed a diaper change, but we were so anxious to get past airport security first we didn't want to stop and look for a bathroom. I was nervous about getting busted for trying to bring a toxic weapon through the airport (it was a pretty bad diaper!) I guess the sniffer dogs are used to diaper gravy. The only hitch the whole trip was having to get the stroller down a flight of stairs at the end of the jetway. Oh yeah, and I spilled a bottle of formula on my lap before takeoff, and had to sit around in wet pants for a few hours (karma can be a bitch). Aside from that, all went very smoothly, and our daughter got to meet the first of her paternal uncles last night. Next up: cousins!!!!

Long time, no blog. Sorry, been wrapped up in stuff (mostly diapers and laundry). I have been anxious to avoid turning this page into a diaper count diary, plus I have a dozen thank-you notes to write. Baby has more holiday outfits than I do at this stage. She is outgrowing the few preemie outfits she has, and is starting to fit into her "0-3 Months" clothes without looking like a wire hanger. (My unofficial weigh-in has her at a whopping seven and a half pounds now.) And on that note, she's hungry again. Moo.

More cause for celebration: I fit into a pre-pregnancy pair of jeans today. Happy happy happy, JOY JOY JOY!

My mother called, which is my cue that I have gone too long without checking my e-mail or updating the blog. Mea culpa. It's been an adventurous week in Purple Scare Land. The OB has given me the OK to drive again (yippee!!!!), and baby "Gigi" has been on the road with us ever since. She's been to two restaurants and a holiday party so far. Friday she had her one-month checkup with the doctor. She's grown three quarters of an inch since she was born, and weighs six pounds ten ounces. I could not be more pleased.
The question is starting to come up, will I go back to work and if so, when? I have no earthly clue. Some days I think I could chuck the entire working world, and other days I miss it just a little. Considering that in my line of work (travelers' aid), much of my day-to-day job is not unlike changing three-alarm diapers, I really do wonder if the major differences between my life pre- and post-Gigi are merely wardrobe and paychecks.
This will require further meditation. And it's not just because I had some nightmare involving the Stepford Wives last night.

Purple Scare is six months old. Rejoice, one and all.

If only they all came with such explicit, concise instructions.

My daughter is now four weeks old. She coos and burps and sleeps through the night (if you count "the night" as 2 a.m. till 9 a.m.) She still has the hair she was born with, a sweet blonde shade which may or may not last. Her eyes are still blue. My unscientific survey shows her weighing in at six and a half pounds. She "smiles" when she has gas and doesn't care who holds her, as long as Mommy or Daddy is within earshot. When her hands are not locked in a kung-fu grip, she's wrapping her daddy around her tiny little finger.

Okay, so it's highly unusual for me to go for a whole week without blogging. Be assured, I did not accidentally drown in diaper gravy. No, we've been having issues with the computer and our Damn SLow connection.
I've been more or less solo with the baby for the past three days, too. My husband, who usually telecommutes, has been putting in some obligatory office appearances this week. Yesterday my homegirl came over and took me out for grocery shopping and coffee. Considering that I haven't left the house except for trips to the pediatrician all month, I jumped at the chance to see a different set of walls. Hazelnut latte never tasted so good.
The truly funny bit is that my friend had brought over a copy of "The Stepford Wives", but we couldn't watch it because we couldn't get the VCR to work properly. Yeah, that works on so many levels but I'm too tired to dissect it right now.

My mother returns to her coast of habitual residence tomorrow. I expect there will be much wailing and hysteria when her absence becomes evident. And the baby will miss her, too.

The results are in: Baby Gigi weighs in at just an ounce shy of six pounds. I think she finds visits to the pediatrician inspiring. She's been ravenous all day. The doctor says that all is fine and we don't need to bring her back until she's a month old. It's nothing but "well baby" visits from this point on, knock on wood.

Back to the pediatrician tomorrow for another weigh-in. I'm back in Weight Watchers mode for myself, stepping on the scale and hoping the numbers don't change a lot (or, preferably, go down), and transferring my reverse-WW mode to the baby. But I refuse to cheat by stuffing her like a Christmas goose the night before her appointment, nope nope nope.

Well, this weekend took an unexpected turn. I found myself confined to bedrest when I started having some "postpartum bleeding" - nothing serious, it turns out, but it's one of those things listed on the "Call Your Doctor If..." lists in all the books. So a few pills and 36 hours spent mostly horizontal seems to have taken care of it.
Of course, the goofy part is that I absolutely suck at enforced bedrest. Ask me what my dream vacation is, and I'll tell you it's a long stretch of uninterrupted time with my case of unread books, preferably on a sunny beach or some sort of shoreline. And on any day of the week I can sleep in with the best of them. But if you tell me, "Mugs, thou shalt remain at rest, no getting up for anything but the bathroom; here, have a few books to pass the time," I get stir crazy. Go figure.
Fortunately, there were three grandparents in the house this weekend to do all the cooking and take care of Gigi. My confinement really ends next week, I think, after I have my followup visit with the OB and he clears me (I hope) to start driving again. Now that our car has arrived from Europe and we've gotten the sucker registered, I'd like to use it once in a while.

In the first two weeks of her life, my daughter has lost ten percent of her birthweight, gained it back (and then some), found her fingers, lost her umbilical cord stump, gone through two packs of disposable diapers, started holding her head up for a few seconds at a time, and met all of her grandparents. No wonder she's sleeping so much - I'd be exhausted, too. Oh wait, I am exhausted.
My mom has agreed to stay on an extra few days before returning to her coast of habitual residence. It wasn't hard to persuade her to change her flight, really. It has nothing to do with me recovering from the C-section, oh no, it's all about quality time with Gigi, we know. Still, I'll take all the help I can get.

Milestone du Jour: Baby Gigi's umbilical cord stump fell off last night. I guess this is nature's way of telling us All Sales Are Final.

Tomorrow night my mother-in-law arrives for a long weekend visit. This means there will be two grandmothers under one roof for a few days. I don't know whether to seek asylum in another country or just use the opportunity to sleep in.

It's Official! Gigi has regained and surpassed her modest birthweight. The doc pronounces her "great." If it weren't for my stitches I'd be doing backflips down the block.