Battle Rythm...

...which is the Military's fancy way of saying, 'routine' - as in, settling into one.

Sometimes, it feels like a battle - not necessarily with Grace, but with my eyes when we have to get up at 2 am to put her back to sleep. Or when we went to her follow up appointment today, and Cicely proceeded to hang up toys in the car to 'keep her occupied' for the 10 km ride. "Occupied?" I said, "Babe, she can't even make out anthing more then colored blobs of mass right now, let alone toys...you're shootin' all our ammo before the war has even begun!"

But I suppose that's the difference between Cicely and me- she's the more compassionate one, whereas I take a more pragmatic approach. In the end, I think we balance each other out quite well.

As for the routine itself, we've got her feeding about every 2-4 hours, and napping in between - once she gets a stomach full of mom's milk, she's out for the count. And I'm talkin' a LONG count. Like 2-3 hour naps. I suppose that can't last for long though. And it messes with nightime sleeping, so we'll have to work on that. Although, if this were the East Coast, it'd be a perfect schedule.

I did want to apologize in advance for the next story, as I didn't take any pictures to go with it.

The only huge concern we had going into Grace's (we still haven't decided what to call her, 'Virginia', or 'Grace', but for typing purposes, I'll stick with the shorter option) follow up appointment, was the fact that she hadn't pooped since the day we left the hospital. I figured since she's not eating solid food, she must be peeing out all of Mom's milk - she does have a lot of wet diapers, afterall.

We were running late for the appointment today, so after I got her dressed (it took me a while to get the onesie on her safely) in the outfit Cicely specifically picked out for this event, and packed into the carseat (not her favorite place) we were heading out the door when I smelled a familiar, yet strangely mezmorizing odor. I knew it wasn't me that time, but it smelled a bit strong for one of Grace's farts (which happen often, to my never-ending amusement). So I buried my face into the carseat and with a wafting motion and a big whiff, I was immediately repulsed.

Just as Murphy's Law would have it, Grace decided that after 2 days of waiting, this most inopportune time was actually perfect timing for her. I took her out of her carseat and onto the changing table. After unbuttoning the outfit, I was overcome with the same stench from before, and with a visual forever burned in my mind - which is probably why I didn't take a picture - I'll never forget it. An oozing, forest green amoeba like substance had leaked out of her newborn diaper (which, because of her petiteness, are WAY too big for her) and all over her clothes. I immediately called in for covering fire (Mom) and heavy artillery (Lola) as I retreated like the French on D-Day.

And that, folks, is my story for today. And since you all came here not to listen to me wax poetic, but for pictures, here are a few random samples from the day:

Here's her "I'm about to get high maintenance on you, Dad" look.


One of our better efforts to swaddle her.


Her favorite type of nap - on the Boppy pillow.


Her first manicure.


Babysitting Daddy style.


More Boppy induced peace.


Dad bottle feeding with Mom's pumped milk - that's teamwork!


Although we're not sure what this means, it's by far her most common expression while awake.


This gargantuan meal awaited us for lunch today after we came back from Grace's appointment. It's AWESOME having Lola here!