Eight Months

Morgen is eight months old now. Well, actually she is eight months old and three days. This is her belated month-a-birthday post. I'm happy to say that her food strike appears to be over, and she is regaining some of the lost poundage with the assistance of a large silicon spoon that she teethes on in between bites. It's pretty cute. She still demands iron-fortified oatmeal and rice cereal at every meal though, so let's hope she keeps her fruit and veggie intake up or, well never mind.

With this latest birthday comes a few mixed feelings. On the one hand, I'm having some nostalgia for the first few weeks of Morgen's life, when we were lost in a hazy, sort of mystified and sleep deprived fog and could carry her around all day and let her sleep on our stomachs as we lay on the couch.  She was so little then, and she seems so big now. On the other hand, I'm looking forward to the next stages of Morgen's life. She'll start feeding herself soon, maybe even with her favourite orange spoon. She'll start talking. She'll start chasing after the cat, and becoming the aggressor in the battle for daddy's lap. I'll return to school and get as much done as I can before Gavin finds a job. But lest I leave out the beauty that is the present: right now Morgen is giving big kisses and smiles, learning to give us high 5's, and stubbornly refusing to play on her tummy by exercising her right to roll over at every opportunity. She's thinking about adding some consonants to her vowels and squeaks. She's growing out of most of her 6 to 9 month outfits and spends most of her playtime demanding to be helped up onto her feet so she can tip forward in that adorable baby walk that for some reason reminds me of a zombie's stagger. Our lives are becoming a bit more balanced these days. Ever so slowly, we're starting to fall into our new family routine. What took you so long, you ask? I don't know. I can only repeat what a friend wrote to me recently - sometimes you never know how you will handle something until you actually live through it. There is still some headway to be made to make sure that Gavin and I find the time for each other that we need. But the babysitters are coming forward, and we're looking forward to showing them the diapers and heading out for a few hours of adult time. I'm loving Morgen at eight months. Yes, I loved her during months one through seven as well, but I'm feeling more myself these days. It's a bit of a relief. 

The New Normal

Morgen is quite literally looking at things from a new angle these days - a 15 degree angle to be precise. As some of you know, Morgen has been putting her parents through their nighttime paces lately, waking up every 1 1/2 to 2 hours and demanding to be soothed back to sleep. Well, after several weeks of this, we finally had a visit with a pediatrician - a woman whose brusque manner and combative responses had me a little on edge ... and don't even ask Jessica about the experience unless you want a full-blown tirade - and it was determined that propping up one side of Morgen's bed might help. That way, if her waking was being caused by acid reflux or some other digestive issue, gravity would help keep things in their place. The doctor suggested that we place a brick under the bed. Well, being humanities graduate students rather than bricklayers or construction contractors, we didn't really have any bricks just lying around, nor were we entirely certain where one procures said bricks (Home Depot?) or whether it was even possible to buy 2 bricks rather than, say, 200. So instead, we used what we had to hand. And I am thrilled to announce that I have finally found a worthwhile use for all those (mostly unread) back issues of the American Historical Review! As for Morgen, time will tell whether this new sleeping arrangement, combined with a fairly rigorous (and exhausting) sleep-training program, will help promote better sleep patterns for both her and her parents. But even if it doesn't work and her parents are forced to remain sleep-deprived zombies, it's hard to get too upset ... I mean, look at that face!

What she may be thinking

"What? Build with them? No, I will crush them. Masticate them with my toothless jaws. And then I'll chew on the bag they came in, that will teach them."

Or maybe she's really thinking. "Huh? Forget it. Man these taste good."

Or maybe she's just trying to do anything to get the camera out of her face?

Breakthrough

Morgen ate a whole tablespoon of carrots today and even some broccoli and potatoes before we had to put that away and bring out the oatmeal rice cereal, and then she ate most of that before giving us the signal. You know the one. And if you don't, here it is. Still, dinner was much better than usual, and I'm calling it a breakthrough.

  

Earlier in the day, before this breakthrough, I took these pictures of Morgen in her new brown and pink ensemble. Thank goodness for cloth diapers - they make all the fun clothes that we thought she'd have to grow into fit her right now! Can you believe that our landlord said she looked like a boy today? No, me neither. But he did - right after he said she didn't look like me or Gavin. I'm trying not to take it personally.

 

Land of Milk and Mommy

Gavin calls Minnesota the land of milk and honey, but lately, I feel like we've left that place and landed in the land of milk and mommy. Morgen has been a demanding little girl lately - after eating nearly no solid foods during her trip to Minnesota, she has decided that there is nothing like mother's milk. All the previously loved favourites like carrots, sweet potato, and squash are simply detested bites reluctantly swallowed and frankly, well, resented. We can only get her to eat veggies and fruits by tricking her into thinking she's about to get oatmeal and rice cereal. This cereal, and only this cereal, is the one thing besides breastmilk that she seems to enjoy eating. Even prunes, once something she couldn't get enough of, is on the gross list. We just keep soldiering on, making sure that we give each attempt at mealtime at least thirty minutes, ignoring the betrayed looks that result from pushing veggies or fruit into her little birdie mouth, and trying to stay firm. We're learning though that Morgen is one stubborn and smart little cookie. She flattens her lips shut, frowns, whines, and then gives us the ultimate sign. She turns her head and sucks her thumb, and says "La!" This syllable means "milk," and has mean that since she was just a week or so old. 

Needless to say that the increased nighttime breastfeeding and wakefulness that result from her solid food semi-strike is a bit of a challenge for Mommy. Or, to put it in the first person...it's a challenge for me! Me, me, me! I've been eating all of our treats and snacking pretty much constantly to keep up with it all. This isn't as much fun as you might think, but I'm getting through it. And hopefully, Morgen will come around. Lately she's just been attatched to me at the breast, though, no matter how hard we try to put her off or show her how much fun mealtimes at the table can be.

So, it was with some trepidation that I left Morgen alone with her daddy and a bottle of formula this afternoon. Three whole hours later, thanks to the distractions of a bookstore, a grocery store, a diaper store, and a good friend, I returned home to discover that Morgen....was sleeping. The child who refuses to sleep without nursing was sound asleep. So, we're on to you, missy! And, now I feel reasonably prepared to start attending a course at the university once a week. I'm looking forward to easing back into some semblance of a balanced life.

In other news, it appears that Grendel no longer fears Morgen. He's now just in open competition with her, no more lurking, skulking or sulking. It's an all out war for Gavin's lap now. Either that, or Grendel has decided to take up reading. Poor, poor, kitty.