Lennie: Week 12

Lennie’s 12th week was pretty exciting. Not only has she done so many new things that I I don’t know where to start, her Aunt Ashley came home from college for the weekend. We didn’t get to see a lot of Ashley because she had so many people vying for her time. She just moved four hours away from her boyfriend, so obviously they needed to hang out. Fleda, Bo, and Terry also miss Ashley like crazy, so she spent a lot of time with them. We got to see her for a few hours on Saturday morning while Abbey, Fleda, Ashley, Lennie, and I were shopping for bridesmaids’ dresses for Abbey’s wedding. Lennie was pretty fussy, but it was still tons of fun. Ashley, Fleda, and I were all in one large, mirrored dressing room trying to squeeze our plump behinds into dresses and laughing uproariously at the sight. Meanwhile, Abbey was holding Lennie in her sling and having multiple pictures taken by the photographer who follows along at all bridal functions.

After shopping, Ashley had to run off to the UT/Florida game, but Lennie did get to see Terry when he picked Ashley up. This was probably their best visit to date. I suspect that he was hesitant to hold her when she was all floppy, but now that she’s bigger, he’s interested in playing.

That reminds me that we still need to pick a name for him. Daryl’s dad is already “Granddaddy” to our niece and nephew, so his title is taken care of. My dad has been calling himself “Papaw,” which I had intended to use for Terry because the kids call him “Papa.” Abbey suggested that Lennie call Terry “Pops” to stay close to papa without duplicating papaw. I suppose she’ll give him a name on her own. As for the grandmothers, Daryl’s mom is already “Grandmommy,” and my mother will be happy with nothing other than “Nanna,” which I’m not at all comfortable with. I called my grandmother that, and it’s not an option for anyone else. Mom can be “Grandma” or “Gram” or whatever else she wants, but nanna is off the table.

To return to topic, Fleda came home with Lennie and me after a stop to check out Andy’s aunt and uncle’s house, where Abbey and he will be getting married next May. It was cool, and the kids were adorable. Abbey, Andy, and Fleda all hung out for a while, and we ordered pizza.

On Sunday Daryl led a discussion on the philosophy of art, and Lennie fussed. I missed most of his talk while she was fussy, but I also had some fun with her by sitting her on the table (while I held under her arms, of course) and talking to her, which made her coo.

The week days were pretty normal other than Lennie’s developmental changes. She has become a sleep-through-the-night (most nights, anyway) baby. Her sleep schedule has become predictable. I know that if I start rocking and feeding her at any time after 8:30, I can expect to get her into bed within the half hour. She also predictably takes a nap around lunch time, in the early afternoon, and in the evening.

She has started gnawing on her fist and fingers constantly. We had started to think that she might be left handed, but now I think that we may have been premature. Her drool output has dramatically increased; she’s soaking through a couple of bibs each day. She’s easy to sing or talk out of a fussy spell now. She lights up when I sing or talk to her. I can fix most things with a rousing chorus of “Weenie Man.” She has started letting me shower while she sits happily in her bouncy seat on the other side of the clear shower curtain. Sometimes she does insist that I sing for my shower, though.

Abbey and I took Lennie to see my dad on Wednesday. We saw a beautiful blue heron eating a fish and hanging out in his front yard. I took a couple of pictures. We had a nice visit, and I hope we make it back over soon. He’s really good with her, and I know he enjoyed getting to see her again.

In not-so-positive news, Lennie has refused to take a breast milk bottle all week, though she took some formula from her dad on Thursday during a 45 minute crying jag when I went shopping with Abbey. She also isn’t interested in taking a pacifier any more. I am glad that she no longer likes her pacifier, but the bottle is problematic. Now that she’s sleeping through the night, I have to pump before I go to bed at midnight or wake up in pain in the wee hours of the morning. As a result, I have tons of breast milk in the freezer, and if the kid won’t drink it from a bottle, I have no use for it. I would give it to a human milk bank, but when I contacted the closest one, which is in Raleigh, NC, they explained that they have enough milk and aren’t taking new mothers. I hate to waste perfectly good milk, but it appears that I’ll have to. Another reason this is bad is that I had almost talked Daryl into a date with just the two of us. I think we could use a little alone time. Unfortunately, if Lennie won’t take a bottle, she may get hungry when we’re out and cry inconsolably as she did when she was alone with her pop on Thursday. I was gone for around an hour and a half, and she screamed for 45 minutes of that. Daryl was thawing breast milk, but when that wasn’t happening fast enough, he made a formula bottle, her first in well over a month. She drank a bit of the formula bottle, but promptly projectile vomited it onto Daryl. Then she wouldn’t take any of the breast milk bottle when Daryl tried to switch over. I’m flattered that she prefers to spend her meal-time with me, but I do wish that she would take the occasional bottle.

Abbey wants me to note that Lennie has the gas of your average 300 pound truck driver. Thank goodness she isn’t as smelly as she is loud. Abbey and Andy like to accuse me of making the very loud noises that the baby makes. She also grunts and groans when she has a visit from the poopy monster, who is a recent invention. He has a slightly tidier buddy, the peepee monster. Lennie is supposed to tell me when either monster tries to befoul her diaper, but the kid just won’t warn me. When I changer her, she laughs and laughs in response to questions about why she doesn’t tell me the poopy monster has been sneaking around.

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