I haven't written about my super special sweet fourth baby in a while, but she's still alive and kickin. I haven't wanted to write because everything I think ends up sounding like total bragging, and I know that a few new mamas read this, and I don't want them to feel bad, but you know what? I paid my mama dues with Warren. I am STILL paying my mama dues with Warren. So I think I'm entitled to a little bragging, don't you? And if you're currently awake at two in the morning with your own colicky infant,you probably don't want to continue.
|Determined not to be cross eyed. Not sure who's gonna win that fight baby.|
She hasn't hit any milestones yet (not like I actually have any idea what or when these alleged milestones are) because she's either sleeping, in my arms, or in the swing. So she's not really reaching for things, batting at toys, or rolling over.
She does, however, roll over in the swing. I know I should strap her in, but sometimes it just gets away from me. She hasn't rolled out. Yet. Actually, I'm getting better at strapping her in, because I don't want her to roll out and then be scarred for life and never want to go in the swing again.
She no longer smells like a foot. She still drools a ton, but so did Ava, so that doesn't weird me out at all. She's lost most of her dark hair, and what little bit has grown in is a lot lighter. Poor Ava might end up all alone with non-bright-white hair.
She's four months already, but her appointment isn't until next Monday. I'm considering skipping it and just going straight for her shots. It's such a waste of time! I mean, they weigh her, ask me if I have any concerns, then send us for shots. But with waiting, that's like an hour. No fun. And I've weighed her on my scale, she's fifteen pounds. She's the fattest Engelbrecht yet. Want a little perspective? Ava was eighteen pounds (that's THREE more than Daisy) at her ONE YEAR CHECK UP. So yeah. She's a chunk.
She pulls her hair and ears when we're snuggling (or when she's standing in the jumpy) just like Warren did.
She REFUSES to take a pacifier. Which is fine for now, I guess, but what do I do when she's older and crying and I can't just toss a paci at her to shut her up? Er, I mean, to soothe her? And what do I do when I'm ready to take her paci away? I can't exactly chop her fingers off! Maybe one, but she seems to prefer two! I can't very well chop off TWO fingers!
She smiles on command and laughs for me, exclusively. She has a deep, throaty, old man chuckle. It's the most precious thing I've ever heard.
She's getting too big for her carrier. I can't bear to take her out though, because she'll be the last of FOUR babies to be in it. The last. Of four babies. I'm going to cry just thinking about it.
These are from a while ago, probably late April. Getting through my pictures is always on my to-do list, and it hardly ever gets done. Sigh.
|Guess who learned how to load actions in PSE?|
So that's Daisy June. I'm so sorry if you have a difficult baby, or whatever the pc term for that is these days. I feel for you, because I did it with Warren. But Daisy...oh, Daisy June. She could not be more perfect. I literally thank God every single day that she's so easy. Because honestly, let's face it, if she weren't, I would have been up to the fifth floor a long, long time ago.