This past weekend rang in your two month anniversary of being on the outside. We celebrated by me getting a haircut while Daddy attempted to give you a bottle. We probably should have started the pump and bottle process a few weeks ago, but I wasn't ready. Everything about nursing you has been so easy and convenient so far, it seemed counter-intuitive to make it more challenging. But as much as I love you and love spending time with you (which, believe me, is A LOT) I know I'll need breaks sometime and you shouldn't go hungry. So, we'll work on it.
Other than bottle frustration, you are such a happy baby. You smile and laugh silently all the time, and now it's almost always in reaction to something we do. This morning at 8am, we woke up and I scooted down so that we were face to face. Your sheer delight from seeing me looking at you was breathtaking. I think you really know that I'm the boob lady now.
You have started to reach out for things intentionally-mostly our faces. You react to toys: little stuffed animal rattles hold your attention for a few seconds and you are pretty happy on your back lying on your play mat.
And, though I'm almost afraid to say so, not wanting to jinx it, it seems your nightly screaming jags are on the way out. You have not been raging at the world anymore. I don't know if you've just accepted that you can't go back to the womb no matter how much you want to or if we've just gotten better at reading your cues so you aren't as frustrated all the time. The only recent trick that isn't so cute is that you seem to think that Daddy isn't so fun to hang out with. You can be totally happy, I hand you to him and you cry until you come back to me. Not so nice, little Pea-your daddy loves you just as much as I do; please don't make him sad.