In her better moments...

I may have neglected to mention that Vivian is not all howls and barf.

She sleeps peacefully in her car seat:

She smiles for us:

And she plays with her bro:

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Rock Star!

My lullaby for Zach was "Baby Mine". I use past-tense because somewhere along the way (actually, I can pinpoint when -- a flight to CA when I was trying to distract him) it became a rock song. Properly done in Weiss family fashion, you sing the whole line very sweetly, til the last couple words... then you ROCK out and use heavy distortion!

Jesse bought Zach his first guitar this weekend, which he adores, and uses to sing his favorite rock lullaby. He also uses it to perform his rendition of "New Slang" and many a Cat Stevens song, but I haven't caught those on camera yet...

Check out the rock star in training.

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My heart burns... and so does hers.

Our poor Vivian continues to be a barfy, poor sleeping mess. Last Monday, we took her into Dr. Brown suspecting acid reflux, and our suspicions were confirmed. Relieved to have an explanation, we put her on meds and starting letting her sleep upright. She slept great 4 nights out of 6, but I don't even want to recount the events of the remaining 2. Days are also sporadicaly good -- we had 2 days where she went the WHOLE day without napping more than 10 minutes. Let me tell you, that's a lot of jostling, walking and driving for us parents.

Today we took her back to Dr. Brown to start her up on a second medication, since the first is clearly inadequate. We also discovered she hasn't gained any weight in the last 2 weeks. Not for lack of supply, I can assure you, but something about nursing makes her pull away in tears nearly every time she eats. Could it be the heartburn? So now we will be dosing her four times a day with meds that she hates the taste of, and feeding her more often. Both of these things make her vomit more.

Here's hoping our girl starts feeling less burn and more fullness.

On the up side, I got her something she's always wanted at a Kid Genius close-out sale -- a super girly, crazy pink Room Seven diaper bag! I justify the purchase by suspending disbelief and pretending she will use it as an overnight bag someday.

Oh yes I did!

C'mon -- doesn't everyone wonder what their child would look like as the opposite sex?!

Genetic Bingo

Here is a link to the photos of Jesse and I as babies. We played this game with Zach -- who does the baby look like?!

Click here!

Volunteer time

Right after the September 11th attacks several years ago, I had to fly. Security was crazy tight, as you probably recall, and everyone was kinda blurry about how the rules worked. Most personnel seemed to err on the conservative side of the rules in those days. So you can imagine my surprise when, while boarding a flight in DFW, the gate attendant actually said "Does anyone want to volunteer for a random security check?"

Quite possibly one on the funniest moments of irony in my life, I had to volunteer.

Not-so-funny moment of irony No. 2 occurred this morning. The not-so-funny part is that I dropped Vivian, in her carseat, yesterday. Tight parking space, couldn't get the door open all the way, lost my grip and the girl and her seat when sliding down the door of the car and the side of the chair to the ground. Since there was so much blocking her fall, the carseat landed upright and she was securely fastened, no one was injured. Just a wee pout face -- not even a single holler. But then she slept like a demon last night, and by that I mean she was up every hour and a half in an evening starting at 9:30 pm and ending at 4:52 am this morning. I took her for a drive at 6 and decided I better take her in for a check up, just in case. I mean, what child sleeps like that?

Turns out, mine does. She's fine, she just tortures me all night long. Back to the funny part.

So, I told the doctor what happened and she says she will check her out but that she is sure Vivian is fine. So she strips her down, looks at her head, her face, her spine... her legs, for bruises (?)... and then opens her diaper to look at her v@gina. I mean, COME ON LADY! Do you ACTUALLY believe that she has an internal injury from her SEATBELT???? Or, alternatively and almost as incredibly, do you think that I abused my daughter and then voluntarily brought her in to SHOW YOU!?!?!?!?!

These experiences lead me to two, equally plausible, conclusions: either the world is full of idiots and everyone thinks I am one of them, or everyone else is an idiot and I am not. You can imagine where I stand on this debate.

Here's hoping I don't hear the knock knock of CPS anytime soon.

Oh yeah, and just to make it an even 3, I volunteered for the Mother's Milk bank. That's right. I am going to send over 150 ounces of human tissue (that's what the IRS calls it) so that preemies the world over can live longer, healthier lives. I am telling you, readers, so that I won't lazy my way out of it.

So, here's to airport security, carseat chastity belts and liquid tissue. Cheers!

Full Service Cat Washing

About two weeks ago, I found Zach cackling in front of the washing machine. That's actually not abnormal -- he loves the washing machine. Best of all, he loves to put Deedee in and watch her spin round and round. The joy of a front loader... but this time, it was different somehow. So I looked. And surprise surprise, Bitsy was prancing around inside the washing machine like a hamster on a wheel. Fool that she is, when I opened the door, she didn't take the opportunity to teach our young jedi a lesson.

Yesterday, I found Bitsy locked in the front loading dryer, napping. Twice I set her free and twice she refused my offer, opting instead to let Zach lock her in again.

I guess I should be glad that he hasn't turned on the cycles yet, which he is totally capable of doing, but there is a little part of me that likes the idea of a Downy fresh Bitsy.

Tender is the Night

Zach, being the sweetie that he is, frequently stays up in empathy with baby when she up at odd hours. Result: tired mommy, baby AND Zachary. See?


Also, just to set the record straight on the Geyser corner post, Vivian did not have the flu. She is just really pukey. Just like her big bro.

Night Stalker

We are nearly 6 weeks out, and Vivian is still sleeping a ton. Except at night. But even that is better. Last night she and I spent an hour on the porch, listening to the oak leaves falling on the street. A special moment by two measures -- rarely can we hear that sound of spring over the sound of the street, and few other places in the country mark spring with the falling of leaves. Knowing that makes it a little easier to be up with a crying baby at 4 a.m. That, and a pair of fine pink earplugs. (Her late night cries can only be described as the sound that a reeling pony would make. Really -- I get a visual every time. I think she will be a fine horsewoman. And just to preemptively set the record straight, I do respond to her cries, even if I do find it necessary to protect my ears a tad.)

All this sleeping has led to speedy growth and very few photos of her with her eyes open. She graduated to nearly all 3-6 month sizes about 2 weeks ago. I will try to dig out a few photos to demonstrate each of these results:

Brutal Honesty

This is not a photo of Vivian; but it could be. Over the last week, I have noticed that she has been losing hair on the top of her head. Enough so that it's visible on a white towel when I rub her head dry. Enough so that she now resembles Danny Devito. UPDATE: Here is a flattering photo of Vivian's female pattern baldness:


Of course we have been speculating about her hair and eye color when she starts blooming. (I like to think newborns are like buds in spring -- all tightly curled up, you won't know for weeks what colors they will finally display when in full bloom.) Will she have still have black hair and blue eyes? Perhaps take after her mother and trade in her newborn locks for blonde with brown eyes? Hard to say.

Any guesses?

The only thing we know for sure is that she inherited her dad's rosy pale complexion. Looks like Zach and Mommy will have to take trips to the beach without them.