9 weeks

We (I) had a monumental week this week. Lilli made the leap from NB and premie sizes to 0-3m. While I attempted to squeeze her oversized head through the smaller sizes a few days too long, she didn't seem to notice how HUGE a deal this was to ME. I shed a tear (or 20) as I folded up the tiny clothes and put them in a box to keep forever. Someone suggested donating them or giving them to someone who needs them, to which I cried "NO!!! They're MINE!!!" Dave suggested making a quilt of them, which isn't a terrible idea, but I think I'll keep them in my box for a few months at least before getting all crafty. Mourning the passing of a phase we'll never get back.

It figures the day after we make this leap into the bigger sizes, there is a diaper blow out while Dave is watching her at his work, perched on his desk. And don't you know there was one last tiny outfit I forgot to replace... the diaper bag emergency outfit. Oops. So one more day of teeny tiny clothes for Miss Lilli, one more day I can live thinking my tiny baby will never grow. :::tear:::

We get so excited for every milestone, first smile, laugh, coo, time she lifted her head without assistance. Growing up at her own pace, but when she shows these signs of actually getting BIGGER, I nearly lose my shit. Seriously... I howled NOOOOO for at least 30 seconds. Moving on...

She started cooing this week, responding in loud breathy "oooo's". Which immediately send tears streaming down my cheeks. And now I talk to her with long and breathy "oooooh" sounds, like a weird owl. She seems to amused. And I am beyond that point where I'd get embarrassed in public. Ask the people at the ice cream place... :)

She has no idea she has hands yet, which for some reason has me in a tizzy. "Find your thumby Lilli, find your thumb, HERE's your thumb Lilli! SUCK YOUR THUMB DAMMIT!" Then I force her thumbs in her mouth... Such a good mom. I'm trying to move past the pacifier... I don't want to be one of those parents that shoves it in her mouth to quiet her, yet I totally am right now. We both are, but you know what... if I want to eat my dinner in 5 minutes of peace, get some work done before everyone leaves for the day, pee... That stupid plastic plug is a savior. I judge no one. I don't even judge the toddlers, I want nothing more than to give this little girl everything her heart desires. If that means looking stupid in pre-school, so be it. I'll brave the dirty looks from strangers and nasty comments from my judgemental mother. I'll keep trying to help her discover those handy attached soothers now named "thumbies." What happened to me...

Through working 4-6 hours continuously, almost since her birth, I have found a way to save us some money and my sanity for another six weeks before going back to work and throwing her in the care of strangers. Since I've only used about 1/3 of my leave time, I worked out with my boss to come back later than expected. Continuing to work from home and coming in from time to time. Which is proving to be more difficult every day. As Lilli squirms on my lap.

Dave's bosses have allowed him to bring her into the office on the days I go into mine for a few hours. His lady boss doesn't mind as long as she's quiet... right... I do feel for him, after all, every time I make a phone call she starts wailing like someone kicked her in the face.

The doctor allowed me to "resume normal activities" and I've been busting my rump trying to excercise every day. Unfortunately, as we learned in health class in 6th grade, muscle weighs more than fat and I've GAINED weight. So pissed. BUT I did wear my first pair of "pre-pregnancy pants" yesterday. Score.

Speaking of never being the same... The other day on the ride home from a lovely stroll in the park with baby and dog, Dave dropped a bomb that I was not ready for at all. When we first got pregnant, we discussed the second. Something Dave was unsure of entirely, he wanted one and that was enough. But if I had to have two, it would be at LEAST 3-5 years between. Eventually I agreed, 3 years was my vote, 5 was his. Figures, my brothers and I are 3 years apart before the big gap and two new additions of my youngest brother and sisters. He is 4 and a half years older than his only younger brother. But in the car, as we were high on fresh air and excitement of our first outting beyond errands, Dave said "2 and a half years we should start trying again." WHAT! Who are you? What did you do with my logical level-headed husband? Wait... WHAT?! This girl has changed him as much as she's changed me. We've gone soft.