When you're shorthanded

Anni recently realized there was an easy fix to the problem of having too many things to carry separately up the basement steps. Elise seemed OK with her temporary digs.

You're growing -- again?!

Somebody hit a growth spurt again the other day. (Here's a hint: It's the other awkwardly lanky member of the household.)
We suspect growth spurt because Elise decided to start eating every two hours during the day -- usually it's every three hours, like clockwork.
And with the exception of mornings, when she's just peachy, she has been unusually irritable the past few days. Just kind of fussy, which is not normal. She is not happy being held and is even less thrilled laying on a blanket.
One possible bright side: This growth spurt may be tiring for her because she has been sleeping through the night -- well, sort of -- for the past week or so. We'll put her down about 10 p.m. or 10:30 p.m. and she'll sleep until 4:30 a.m. or 5 a.m.
We'll see how this plays out the next few days.

More of these, please

The crouch

We call this position "Crouching Baby, Hidden Diaper." It makes it tough to change the diaper, but it's kinda funny.

Adjust those figures by 1

It appears I will be spending a bit more time at home with Anni and Elise. Actually, a lot more time.
That would be great news if it did not come with this minor addendum: I have no job.
Yep, laid off.
Add me to the growing list of victims of these floundering economic times. The explanation is simple enough, though no less disappointing: Like every other news organization, our company -- well, the company I used to work for -- is struggling with the economic downturn and, no doubt, a dip in advertising revenue. It's a time to trim costs, and a two-man Capitol bureau is, well, one man too many.
The company kept the bureau open, which is good, but let me go. It did not come as a complete surprise, and company folk did what they could to help me. That was appreciated.
There are a few interesting back stories to all of this, but here is one that surely is a candidate for the Cruelest Irony award: At work Thursday, I wrote a short item about the latest state unemployment figures. After a Friday morning meeting, those figures needed to be adjusted by one.
I'm disappointed for three reasons:
-- I have to find a new job. (I know, I know: Get in line.)
-- Given how poorly many media companies are run, I was working for a good one.
-- The job was great (it's tough to complain when your office is in the neatest building in the state) and full of opportunities that will be hard to top. (Not the least of which were two trips to Washington and a front-row seat for two of the craziest election cycles in recent memory.)
So, where am I going from here? Well, I'm taking suggestions because, quite frankly, I haven't a clue. I've already got a couple of job tips to pursue, but who knows where those will lead.
In the meantime, today, on my first full day of unemployment, I was awakened at 6:10 a.m. by a bright-eyed 11-week old who was ready to start the day.
So we did.

Snuggled in sling

Anni is trying out one of those baby slings. It went over well when she first tried it.

On cakes and needles

I was supposed to have carrot cake tonight -- doctor's order.
I'll explain.
We took Elise to her two-month checkup today, her second with the new pediatrician. At the first visit, when Elise was just six weeks old, the doctor threw us off by sitting down and asking, "So, what's her best trick?"
She was just making conversation, using a slightly unconventional approach to put us at ease. It caught us off guard at first, but we warmed to it.
"What do you do on your birthday?" the doc asked us today. Again, she caught us off guard, but by now we were hip to her plan. "What kind of cake do you like to eat?"
I told her I'd go with carrot cake.
Well, the doc said, I should go home and celebrate (with cake) the fact that Elise made it to two months. It's a milestone for a few reasons.
First, we were told, her immune system is far more advanced at two months than it was at two weeks -- that makes sense -- so she can fight off illness more effectively.
Also, two months is significant because that is when she can handle shots.
Lastly, and here is where it gets interesting, in some cultures a baby is not named until it is two months old because, well, many don't even live that long. We're a bit more advanced than that, of course, but that was a nice little sociology lesson.
Anyway, the doctor's point was that two months is significant because Elise has endured a somewhat risky phase and is on the right track.
That's a lot to take in during the first few minutes of an 8 a.m. appointment, but we got it.

....

Not only are Elise's arms and legs pushing the bounds of her clothing, but she set a new high on a growth chart the doctor provides. At 25 inches -- yes, we're talking keeper length -- she is off the length-for-age percentile chart. Line her up with 99 other 10-week-olds and she's longer than 99 of them. I know, charts, shmarts. They don't mean much, but it's funny to see that she's at the top of the chart for length-for-age and, at this point, is at the lower end of the weight-for-length chart because, well, she's a lanky bean.
I placed her on the scale, which is not unlike the scale used to weigh ground meat at the deli, and the numbers fluttered between 12 lbs. and 13 lbs., landing at 12 lbs. 13 oz. She's gained about two pounds in the past three weeks.
Everything else checked out OK -- ears, nose, eyes, throat, leg joints, back, etc.
It's nice to hear someone with a white robe and stethoscope declare your baby healthy.

....

It's not as nice to watch your baby get poked with needles. Elise needed four shots, three in the leg and one via a liquid mixture.
She got the liquid first, which was good for the nurse and us because Elise was in a giddy mood. She actually smiled after gulping the liquid.
But imagine her suprise when that liquid was followed by a stinging pain to the thigh. I understand why the liquid vaccination comes first, but it's still a bit deceptive.
"Hey, wasn't that liquid tasty? What's that? We just tricked you into relaxing and then we jabbed your leg, causing the most pain you've ever experienced? Yeah, sorry about that."
The first needle shot was quickly followed by two more, leaving Elise with the facial expression she would get with a piercing scream -- except she was so upset that she couldn't make noise.
Five minutes later, though, she was calm and resting. Ten minutes later she was zonked out in her car seat and we were headed for the door.
I had a content baby in my arm and carrot cake on my mind.

Itty-bitty bookworm

If we catch Elise at the right time, she'll happily sit through a handful of books. She likes the pictures. (Another gene I've passed on...)
Tonight, I read five books to her before she decided that the two us of should take a two-hour nap on the couch. She's convincing.

A day for the new mom

It was a pretty good Mother's Day at our house. Anni wanted a low-key day of hanging out as a family.
One of her Mother's Day gifts was an outdoor swing for Elise. It's kind of big for Elise at this point, but we guess that by the end of the summer her long legs will be dragging on the grass beneath the swing.
Still, Elise did well on her first ride, but, as you'll see, she eventually decided she'd had enough for one day.

Moonlighting as a bloggerzzzzzzzzz

Having a baby will change your schedule, your routine and your inner clock. Surprising, eh?
We have developed a new sleep routine the past few weeks. Elise gets fed between 9:30 p.m. and 11 p.m., and then zonks out in her crib for about five hours. She gets fed again between 2:30 a.m. and 4:30 a.m. before snoozing for a bit longer. She is awake by about 6:30 a.m. every day. Wide awake. (She got that gene from Mom; Dad usually needs time and coffee to function.)
So, that means we're up every day at 6 a.m., and I'm fine with that. It's better than 5 a.m., and the days seem longer.
However, as a result of this shift to an earlier day, I'm fighting sleep by about 9 p.m. But since that's a quiet time around here, I've taken to working on photos and the blog at night.
That can be a problem. There would be twice as many blog entries if I did it earlier in the day. Half of the time I realize that I am falling asleep in mid-entry, so just delete it, shut down the computer and stumble to bed.
It's now 9:20 p.m., and I have made it through an entire blozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

'Mirror, mirror...'

Somebody discovered the mirror that attaches above her on the play set. (The play set is called "Giddy Up!" It's a cowboy theme. It's cool. And it was half the price of the other play sets, and they don't have a print of a sheep with a lasso. So there. Giddy up.)
Anyway, she was hammin' it up the other day:

Caught on camera

Sure, the photo is not sharp, but you've got to hustle with the camera when you see a smile.

Suddy-duddy

So, what's your best caption for this photo? Leave it in the comments section below and I'll add them to the blog.

-- Before discovering music, Amadeus had a passion for bubble baths." -Scott
-- "Donald Trump's parents have a similar picture." -Rob
-- "She looks as though she would serve me well by supplying me with a fresh batch of shaving cream..." -George
-- "If you add a pineapple, banana, some cherries and a bunch of grapes to the bubble hair piece, you would have the youngest chiquita banana baby wishing you Happy Cinco de Mayo!!" -Jay and Patrice

'Round face' debut

Since Anni's more willing to sing publicly than I am -- karaoke being the only exception -- we bring you the debut of the "Round Face" song, something Anni came up with while holding Elise at the hospital. The song stuck. Now we know why -- it gets someone to smile.

Week 7 workout

Eyes

Me 'n' E

I have a big head.

A fist of fury.

I was unaware that she was trying to feed.
She was unaware that I don't produce Guinness.
And yet, Guinness has quirky ads,
so maybe I'm onto something with this shot.

Windmill arms

Six weeks

What's in a nickname?

If our daughter goes until age 6 before realizing her name is "Elise," we will be to blame.
After only six weeks, this poor girl has more nicknames and phrases used to describe her actions than we can keep track of. Most come from Anni, who often gives people nicknames.
Here are some that have been used so far:
-- Hen-pecking: When Elise is really hungry but is getting burped or held on Anni's shoulder, she will jerk her head back and forth in a pecking motion, her face hitting Anni's shoulder repeatedly.
-- Zombie Arms: When Elise is getting burped in Anni's lap, she sometimes will hold her arms out in front of her, slowly raising them up and down. It's pretty funny. (See above picture to get an idea.)
-- Frownie Brownie: This is a new one. She gets called this when she is just about to cry. She purses her lips and gives us a big ol' frown.
-- Falcon: Ever heard the screech of a falcon? We have, and it came in the middle of a really hard cry.
-- Jennie-O: I've written about this one before, but it still is used when we give her a bath or rinse her in the sink. Holding a wet, naked baby is not unlike gripping and rinsing a raw bird during Thanksgiving dinner preparation. (They don't tell you that in the "What to Expect..." books.)
-- Power to the People: Occasionally, while in her bouncer or even while being held, out of nowhere Elise will raise an arm and clinch the fist.
-- Lobster Face: After Frownie Brownie and before a hard cry, Elise's face gets as red as, well, a cooked lobster.
-- 'Lil E: When she's rollin' gangsta-style. Every once in a while she'll hold an arm out in front of her, fingers bent as though she's flashin' signs. We hope this practice doesn't continue.
-- Count Dracula: Sometimes Elise's cry sounds like Count von Count's laugh. Pretty funny.
--Italian Sunbathing Beauty: Right after a feeding, Anni will lay Elise across a pillow in her lap. Elise proceeds to assume the comfortable, sprawled-out position of somone enjoying a hassle-free day in the sun.
-- Fists of Fury: She gets feisty if a feeding session ends sooner than she wants. Her reaction is to start swinging clenched fists at Anni's chest. It is not unlike my reaction were someone to yank the ice-cream bowl from me.
There are other, less interesting, nicknames we have affectionately given her, but maybe it's time we start calling her Elise.