Catching up VI: Giant Baby goes technicolor

Babycakes got a raging case of thrush that wasn't entirely responsive to nystatin.  We therefore went old school and found some gentian violet, only available at one pharmacy in town. This is some potent stuff; a little q-tip makes for an enormous explosion of color.   (It also worked amazingly well.)  Sadly, I restrained myself from applying some quite unnecessarily to her ears and nostrils.  Next time.

Catching up V: 1-3 months old

Baby camouflage

One of the very first smiles, here exhibited on the changing table.  For some reason, this baby loves the changing table and is at her most outgoing there.  Please god, let's hope she becomes a little more reserved when she has no pants on.

Sausage arms!

Babycakes fit in her baby tub for about a month.  After that point, she became much too large to be in there if unable to sit up.  On to the bath tub!  She generally loves the bath, after the initial panic wears off, anyhow.  Lowering her into the tub, her face gets this look as though she thinks she's falling right into the deepest pits of hell - absolute terror! - that quickly resolves into quiet enjoyment, or at least mild resignation.

This is my absolute favorite, although she looks a bit like Andy Richter in the bottom right image.

Catching up IV: Early Days, Part Two, in which animals thoroughly ignore Giant Baby

 The animals have surprised us by being largely indifferent to (if not even a little afraid of) the interloper.  However, two things have become apparent: the animals are stupid, and the animals are everywhere.  The garden cat, in particular, seems to always be in the middle of everything (even though she hates us). 

 The dogs have a particular gift for identifying the location you are most likely to sit, and sliding in right as you attempt to settle in.  This was particularly nice when getting up in the middle of the night to feed the babycakes and coming back to bed to find 120 lbs of dogs insisting "finders keepers" is the household rule regarding my side of the bed.  Jerks.

 This is probably a good place to remind ourselves of the true level of Garden Cat dickishness.  The Garden Cat feels any dark corner from which she can ambush us is fair game.  Unfortunately for us, the bottom of the cosleeper had a little Garden Cat-friendly compartment which she utilized frequently.  Imagine us, quiet, peaceful, slowly walking into a dark room to put a soft, gently snoring newborn into her little bed where we can quietly contemplate her beautiful and serene face while she dozes and just as we reach out to lay the baby down all of the sudden BAM!  A GIANT BEAST OF A MISERABLE CAT STICKS HER GOD DAMNED CLAWS IN THE SENSITIVE SPACE BETWEEN TWO OF YOUR GOD DAMNED TOES, WRAPS HER OTHER GOD DAMNED PAW AROUND YOUR ANKLE TO KEEP A BETTER GRIP WITH HER GOD DAMNED CLAWING FOOT AND SINKS HER TEETH IN THE TOP OF YOUR FOOT FOR GOOD GOD DAMNED MEASURE.  Seriously.  A jerk.

Garden cat sees to it that not only my side of the bed is fair game, but the baby's digs are up for grabs too.  At least here we are dealing with a known threat.

Gus must share this pillow.  Really, he must.  It's not as though the baby is using the whole thing.

We installed a fish tank in the baby's room.  Garden cat was so transfixed she climbed the drawers for a better look.  No need to actually get too close and get next to the tank.  Much better just to hover precariously, clinging to the front so as to procure the best view.  Silly little idiot.

Catching up III: Early Days, Part One

We are quite lucky in that the pets have generally accepted the new loud and smelly addition to the household that is monopolizing the vast majority of our time.  Lulu believes Giant Baby is her very own salt lick and as with most things, Gus is unsure of what to make of her and more or less keeping his distance.  Fat Pete is, of course, oblivious.

A Law and Order marathon gave Ouma an excuse to cuddle with Giant Baby for half a day, never mind the baby was exposed to more rape and murder in a day than pillaging Vikings (yes, yes, E, I know).

A few more pics from the first few weeks. June had fairly red hair when she was born, but it's been steadily falling out (more on that later) and getting a bit blonder.  Her eyes are still blue blue, for now, at least.

Dad is trying so hard to not break the baby.

One other notable feature June sported was the most tremendously fat arms of any baby I have ever seen.  Don't get me wrong, the rest of her is covered in little rolls and she's a delightfully chubby baby, but her arms were really something else.  The rolls on these things were so gigantic and extensive that her elbows were entirely obscured and a casual glance at her arms did not immediately reveal their orientation; frequently, her little baby arms seemed as though they were on backward.  Now, they simply look like sausages.  Maybe by the time she hits middle school they will have normal proportions.

.

After a week of staying at home, we were ready for something to do.  Being an entirely self-loathing yuppie, I packed up the baby and headed off to Whole Foods where I toted her around in a special yuptastic baby sling.  If I were planning better, I would have made sure I had the Prius that day.  At least that has been remedied recently and I now have a mom-Prius all to myself.  

I am noticing that  there is a shortage of photos of June's grandma and grandpa.  Don't be deceived: they have visited frequently, squeezed June appropriately, and generally adored her.  I believe their photos are on E's phone, which I will raid shortly. 

Catching up II: In which Giant Baby makes her debut

And so, one week early, Giant Baby divested herself of the human host she had been employing: Juniper Frances, April 26, 2013, 9:30 am, at a whopping 9 lbs 15 oz and 21.25 inches. 

The first photo, immediately revealing the similarity of facial features between father and daughter.  Paternity, confirmed!

I really like that all hospital blankets look the same.  For some reason, I thoroughly enjoy watching tv and seeing a baby wrapped up in the identical blanket we were given; maybe it just lends credulity to whatever ridiculous situation wherein a three month old is playing the role of a newborn.  With that said, following the eventual appearance of our own giant baby, I have revised my opinion on the seemingly inappropriate size of tv babies.

My first visit to the baby, complete with too-big too-pink hat.  Now that I think of it, if this hat was too big on Giant Baby, it must have been made for a two year old.

Here, I need to be a jerk - okay fine, will continue to be a jerk - for a second.  I am deeply appreciative of the baby blanket and hat we were given at the hospital.  I am sure they offer a warm touch to families who are struggling with a difficult situation, and I plan on making some hats or blankets for them in the future; however, I take issue with the assumption that any colors other than cotton-candy pink or fluorescent orange will result in failure of the parents to claim their baby and increase the already too-heavy load on Social Services.  I tried to give the tangerine (not in a good way) blanket and muted neon pink hat back, but the hospital gently declined.  ("No dear, they are your problem now.")  Please, if you knit or crochet, consider donating to Project Linus, if for no other reason than to offer a baby an opportunity to not be dressed up as a beach-going geriatric mall-walker.  (I know.  It makes sense to me.  I can hear E now: "You and your terrible metaphors."  My response: "It's a simile.  If you're going to disparage me, at least get it right."  E: "It's still terrible.  Our poor Giant Baby, cursed with my nose and your terrible similes.")

Anyhow, on the first day of Giant Baby's life on the outside, she was given two hats. 

The subconjunctival hemorrhage was fun: one in both eyes contributed to the devil-baby effect she later cultivated with the development of the eyes-wide-open devil-baby scream.  I am only sad that she did not develop the devil-baby scream until after her eyes began healing; it would have been very intimidating otherwise.  Crazy bloody eyes or no, she was pretty cute, particularly with her new fancy hat.  Sadly, the hat covers her folded-over puppy dog ears,which while now generally upright are still somewhat perpendicular to her head.  Everyone needs a little character.

Lots of visitors over a few short days, including a brief photo session with dad (of course), then home.

I realized at some point that we didn't have a photo of the three of us yet, and asked the nurse to take one as we packed up to go home.  As it turns out, the frumpy exhausted look that I usually sport was not much enhanced by the arrival of Giant Baby.  At least she has a cute hat.

Then home!

Catching up I: The Pregnancy

Right.  So I was pregnant.  Then came a baby, something that often happens after one becomes pregnant.  Following the baby came the grandmothers politely requesting photos, and the aunt not-so politely threatening bodily harm unless she receives a daily update.  And so, to stave off future threats, I thought I would simply throw photos out into the internet void, and if the grandmothers and aunts and whoever else choose to look at them, so much the better for everyone involved.  For any others that wish they could squish the giant baby but don't have the means at the moment, we'll squish her for you, then take pictures of the squishing and be properly horrified we are sharing them in a public forum.  So, here we go, starting - embarrassingly enough - with me.

At Lex and Aaron's wedding (so just about 5 months), and still in the kitchen.  It's a crying shame I don't have pictures from Passover, 8 months along and still hiding in the kitchen.  Probably best none of us remember that night too clearly.

This was taken somewhere during month 6 (Februaryish), I believe, in the room we were just getting ready to put together for the baby.  Really smart to wait until the third trimester to start painting the nursery.  I think we got the furniture in (some of it, anyhow) the week before she came.  Cutting it close!

I believe this was taken at dinner for mom's birthday on March 30 at about 35 weeks in.  Those boots did not fit so well on my rapidly fattening feet, although my feet had yet to reach the phenomenally sausage-like proportions they finished with.

"Look!" mom says. "Look, I'll be able to show your daughter her parents before you were born!  Look!"  Well, giant baby, here we are, being tortured by parents with cameras.  Hopefully the focus will shift to you and they'll leave us alone.

This series was taken by Ben during end days: April 20 at a rugby playoff game in Aberdeen. 

Next up: photos of the birth!





No, I'm kidding.  I promise.