Finn at Four Months

At three months (see above), I meant to do a write-up of Finn's latest likes and dislikes, something like what I did for Will last year. At four months (see below), I had planned to predict Finn's latest measurements, something I also did for Will before his checkup.

Sadly, Second-Kid Syndrome has a way of derailing the best-laid plans.

Don't look so scornful, Finny. Later is better than never!

Belated Quarteryear Review (I'm comparing bulletpoints with Will's):

Finn is...

• Drooly, possibly cutting his front/top left tooth
• Loving the finger-on-bridge-of-nose relaxation technique
• Ohhhh. Hm. At three months, I said that Will had been "sleeping through the night regularly," meaning a good 10 or 11 hours. Ha. Finn sleeps roughly from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m., then wakes up at 4 or 5, then is up at 7 or so, BUT BUT BUT: when he wakes up, he just nurses obliviously, and I sometimes can't remember much of the nursing session, and he goes right back to sleep, so...no, there's no denying, when it comes to "through the night," Will: 1, Finn: 0.
• Finn doesn't have these so-called "naps" I referenced with Will; he's more of a sleep-is-the-rule-not-the-exception kid, so far. He has begun recently to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, but he sleeps through much of the morning in the Ergo/Bjorn, whether we're at the playground or staying home. Finn, like Will did, has a more clusterfeed-y, awake period in the afternoon, but it's more of a 3-7 p.m. time slot, peppered with catnaps.
• Yes, I am glad that we recorded Will's baby coos, and I'm similarly entranced with Finn's. Finn woke up a few mornings ago and for the first time just starting "talking" to me, cooing in this moany sort of way, but like he was really trying to communicate something. And he was smiling. It was lovely.
• I'm pretty sure Finn startles even MORE easily than Will. He's a sensitive soul in that way...he even lurches (and sometimes cries for a moment) if I start talking in a previously silent nursing session.
• Finn likes to stand, but he isn't insistent on being upright all the time like his big brother. He's happy to sit on our laps facing out or do tummy time or play on the activity mat. But put him down on the couch for even a millisecond to do something selfish like hook up the Bjorn for the purposes of wearing him and THE WRATH OF FINN BE DELIVERED UNTO YOU, foolish caretaker. That being said, I think he will enjoy the jumperoo when he gets in it.
• "He has begun to appreciate toys," I said of Will at three months. Funny story: When Aunt Jen was visiting for Finn's christening, she asked what he liked to play with. "Oh, he doesn't really play with things," I said dismissively. "Well, isn't he, you know, three months old?" she asked, handing Finn a monkey stroller toy. He loved it. LOVED it and has been playing with it ever since. I guess I just...forgot that almost-four-month-olds are starting to be able to DO things. Foolish caretaker indeed!
• Today's toxic and timely blowout forced me to move from size 2 disposables (we still had a whole box left! This irks me to no end) to the size 2-3 Swaddlers, and more importantly to wash the batch of cloth diapers set aside for Finn and leave the disposables behind.
• Finn's smile and laugh are fabulous, but they are far from silent. And his dimples! Oh my God, they are so gratifying. He's gained this real awareness over the last couple of weeks and now just smiles at everyone and everything. Everything except the darn car.
• Oh, yeah: he hates the car. Still. Passionately. It's the only time he ever squawks with displeasure (slash-screams-with-despair).
• Finn's still nursing exclusively. I still have moments of anxiety that he'll go through a growth spurt and I just won't be able to keep up, but so far, so good. Since we're always out and about in the sunny spring weather, we nurse in the car a fair amount, so you can put that on the list of things I never thought I'd be doing three times a day (while listening to an Elmo CD on a loop, to boot).

Finally, my predictions for Fintan's four-month well visit tomorrow:

-15 lbs., 8 oz.

-24.75 inches long

-16.5-inch noggin

-not in the least bit ready for solids, which is good because neither am I!

Finn's Birth Story

Finally!!

On Saturday the 16th, I was continuing to have random contractions here and there, but I was frankly a little depressed about the lack of "real labor" contractions. You can witness my dour mood if you read my post on that day. I was sick of being disappointed that I hadn't had the baby yet.

Bee texted to ask about progress and I replied that I had nothing to report and was getting annoyed. She suggested eggplant consumption, so I added it to my list of "bring it on" strategies for the evening. Dave and I took Will over to "Nan's" (my parents') house, where I walked two miles on the treadmill; then the two of us headed out to an Italian restaurant for some eggplant parm.

I was contracting a teensy bit more in the evening but brushed it off, not wanting to get excited for nothing. At 10:30 p.m., the contractions got much sharper, but they were only lasting 30 or 45 seconds and weren't coming more than eight minutes apart. We timed them for a while and then got bored. I tried to go to sleep.

Well. Sleep wasn't happening. We turned on the TV (OK, you caught me, it was the Jersey Shore marathon) and Dave rubbed my back in between contractions. By one a.m., it should have been clear that no sleep would be had, but I was in denial. In fact, I actually turned to Dave at one point and said, "My uterus feels really irritated. Maybe I have a urinary tract infection?"

To which Dave replied, "I think you're just in labor." Yeah.

At two a.m., the contractions went from 6 or 8 minutes apart to WHAAAAAAM!--maybe 30 seconds in between? And the relief of those 30 seconds was tainted by a gentle ache that never went away. So I was having half a minute of sharp, escalating, seizing pain through my lower abdomen, then a dull ache throughout my torso, and then another contraction.

I was still in denial--I'd never entertained the thought that my contractions would just suddenly be coming back-to-back. So I called my sister in the middle of the night and wisely told her about my urinary tract infection theory.

"J. I think you're just in labor. This is what it feels like. You need to go to the hospital."

We summoned my mom for her slumber party with Will, gathered our bags, and waited for Nan to arrive. To survive the contractions, I was rocking in circles on my feet, concentrating on my grandfather's paintings of jagged building exteriors. When a contraction hit, I'd breathe slowly and let my eyes move up the angles of the painting until the pain reached its peak. I had thought that when I reached active labor, I'd have to tune out the world to get through it, but the opposite turned out to be true--I felt hyperaware, not only of the pain but of everything going on around me.

My mother arrived at 3:15 a.m., and Dave and I headed downstairs. I remember waiting for a contraction to subside before hurrying down the stairs to our garage, trying to avoid stopping between point A and point B. When we reached the car, I asked aloud "How am I going to do this?" Being confined to a car and a seatbelt at this point was incomprehensible, but there was no other choice. I tried to rock while seated as wave after wave of pain coursed over me. Twice Dave read my face and pulled over, but it seemed better to just get there as fast as possible.

We arrived at the hospital at 3:30 and slowly walked our way over to the elevators and Labor & Delivery. One nurse (who turned out to be our totally wonderful nurse, Jackie) brought us to an exam room to check me out, but after ten minutes of trying to catch me "between contractions," she decided to just admit us, saying "You're clearly in very active labor."

We were led to the same room where Will was born sixteen months earlier--that was cool--and Jackie finally checked me. I was six centimeters dilated, and I honestly have never been more proud in my life. There had been one primary goal for me in this labor process: To go as far as was bearable without pain medication, and as a corollary, to make decisions based on as much rational thought as I could muster but NOT based on fear. When I discovered that I had made it to six centimeters mostly at home, using my own techniques to keep fear at bay, I felt incredibly satisfied at the preparation I had done and the promises I had made (to myself) to change my opinion of pain, or at least this type of pain.

At this point, it was four o'clock and Jackie wanted to know if there was a chance I'd want an epidural--she'd need to start me on the IV so I'd get to the second bag of fluids before she called the anesthesiologist. I said there was a chance, but I continued to labor through with Dave as my "coach."

Dave was AWESOME. As most of you know, he's by nature a pretty mellow person, and he certainly out-mellows me by a couple football fields. I'd put my hands on his for balance, and he'd lock eyes with me and say things like, "This is normal. You're doing great." He knew that assuaging my fear was just as important as helping me through the pain, and he did both admirably.

Jackie, our nurse, was also phenomenal--she stepped in here to remind me to take a deep breath after a contraction passed, and she repeated a lot of encouraging words as well. She did have to hook me up to antibiotics since I was positive for Group B Strep, but my vein felt like it was on fire and she had to stop and then adjust the dosage.

At one point, both my coaches were telling me to sit down if I needed to. The rocking chair in that room looked so inviting, but the second I sat down a contraction would hit and I'd be stuck between a rock (remaining seated throughout a contraction, horrifying) and a hard place (trying to stand up during a contraction--equally horrifying?). You can see my predicament. But of course, I was in the sort of pain that forces you and your decisions to Be. Here. Now. What can I say? Pain makes me go all Zen. So I kept deciding to sit down, then regretting it and trying to lurch back up out of the rocking chair. The helpful part was that I was making decisions, so it still felt like I had some control even though the pain was unrelenting.

At five o'clock, Jackie told me she could call the anesthesiologist if I wanted an epidural. I asked her if she was going to check my progress first, and she said "I can if you want. If you're at a 9 already, we won't even make it through the epidural before it's time to push, but if you're at a 7 we'll probably have time." I asked her to check me, and I was at a 7. So, epidural it was--and I was surprised at how relieved I felt by having that option. Something about having been up all night in labor and THEN the idea of pushing my son out without any drugs...I was worried that it would be so earth-shakingly exhausting that I'd have to agree to a more invasive intervention at that point.

Up came the anesthesiologist, the same who had given me my epidural (at three centimeters) during Will's birth. Let's call her Lucy. We chatted about having met her before, how she had talked to us about the TV show Criminal Minds while administering the last epidural. I started to nervously ask Lucy and Jackie how I was possibly going to stay still for the needle when my innards seemed to be engaged in one constant contraction; they told me it would be easier than I thought, and it was.

At 5:30 a.m., I hunched over towards Dave (Lucy allows husbands to stay in the room and help) and Jackie stood by my side, telling me to look into her eyes, encouraging me through the one contraction that reared its painful head (no pun intended) during the procedure. I lay back down and spent a few minutes continuing to feel the pain--Lucy said that when you get an epidural so late in labor, it's often quite different than an early-labor dose. Then the pain subsided, although I was left with a very strong feeling of pressure. I had thought I could really feel Will's head as he made his way down during THAT labor, but that was peanuts compared to this!

Around 6 o'clock, I asked Dave to run and get Jackie because the pressure was getting intense. He did, she checked me, I was at 9 1/2. Maybe ten minutes later I made him summon her again, and I was fully dilated with a "little cervical lip." At this point, Jackie warned us that if I had the baby within four hours of receiving antibiotics (which meant anytime before 8 a.m.), Finn might need to take them after the birth. I looked at her incredulously and said, "There's no way we're making it 'til 8. I think he's coming now."

Sure enough, at 6:20 I insisted that I had to push, so Jackie grabbed the attending. At 6:25 I started to push. Four contractions later--although I have to say that I felt like pushing the entire time, and not just during contractions--they told me to look down and I saw Finn's shockingly dark and dense head of hair as I pushed him out. It was 6:33 in the morning.

It was so, so different from last time. The room was dim; the only people in there were me, Dave, Jackie and the doctor, a very nice woman who I didn't see much of before or since. The pushing was calm and went quickly. There was no vacuum, no intervention at all. I was both mentally and physically "present" in a way that I had been, for lack of a better word, anesthetized for during my previous labor.

I laid Finn's body on my chest and we looked at each other for a while; he nursed for an hour after that. His Apgar scores at 1 and 5 minutes after birth (both measured while he lay on me) were 9s. He weighed 8 lbs, 7 oz. and measured 21 inches long. Because we chose not to circumcise, Dave and I have been with him...well, ever since.

The moral of this story is a very personal one. I had thought I was going into William's birth with a stockpile of informed opinions, and I was--but there was SO MUCH more to know. My labor and delivery with Fintan was many steps closer to what I'd love to experience someday, which is--brace yourselves--a home birth. (Man, cloth diapering is the beginning of a slippery slope, right?) It's not the home birth per se that I need to have, though--it's the process of preparing for it, the fact of choosing it even while I know that it may not happen for me in the end. I mean, I started taking vitamins for these boys while they still lived in utero, and now I parent them as a full-time job...why is there a blip on the radar screen where I just accepted I had to hand the reins over to lots of other people while they made decisions--albeit informed ones--about my children? It's so weird to me in hindsight.

Anyway, I'm off my hippie soapbox now. To finish the story, we did have to stay in the recovery room for one night because Finn hadn't received the full dose of antibiotics (and of course he was FINE without them and if I could do it again I'd say "no thanks" *HIPPIE ALERT HIPPIE ALERT* and go straight home to Will). I was fine physically, just as I was after Will, although while my right leg de-numbed instantly, my left took a little longer until it was useful again. Mainly I was annoyed at being in that cold, impersonal room again, not being able to co-sleep and not being able to see my toddler, whom I missed so much. I know some people just adore the recovery room, but I feel like those people are a different species--that's how much I hate being there.

In the end, though, I was lucky enough to have a second "perfect" birth--perfect because my baby came out with mega-decibel lungs and was in every other way thriving. Perfect because I got what I wanted, and who can ask for more than that? Until next time, that is...*

*No. Still not pregnant.

I Want to Hold Your Hand...

We're getting ready for Finn's christening and trying to sell our condo and enduring some weird spring allergy symptoms and doing A MILLION other things that prevent us from checking in here.

All of this is going on and more--most of it wonderful, some of it still too new to share (no, I am NOT pregnant again, Mom)--but I did want to post this photo from last Friday. The boys and I showed up at the park and I immediately began nursing, so Auntie Ceci came over to get Will. I heard Ceci reminding Connor and Will to hold her hand while crossing the street, but as you can see, they ended up holding on to each other's. Even when their feet hit the grass, they held on.

Not everyone gets to make friends this early in life. Not everyone has a collection of surrogate moms and brothers and sisters and dads who feel safe to him, familiar. Not everyone can say he knew his friends practically since birth, but my son can, and I appreciate how lucky that is. Will does, too; he just doesn't know it yet.

Right Here Waiting

I have the cutest pictures (and video) of Finn, but I can't post them because the cable for our camera is stashed somewhere "out of the way" while we try to keep the house clean for showings. In the meantime, let me assure you that he is about as wonderful as they get, and if he would only cut out the sudden scream eruptions in the car I would never, ever be allowed to complain about him.

It must be something about going in atypical order from bottlefeeding to breastfeeding, but I surprisingly don't mind waking up in the middle of the night with Finn. We co-sleep, which gave me wicked anxiety dreams when we did it with Will and none at all so far with Finn, and the middle-of-the-night routine at fourteen weeks is so shockingly simple this time. We went from this:

-wake up

-panic briefly re: baby's whereabouts

-realize he is in my arms

-wake Dave up

-Dave warms the bottle and starts the feeding, while I...

-get out the pump parts and fill a new bottle for next time

-(not to mention all the daytime cleaning of bottle parts and measuring out supplementary formula and keeping track of how long the bottle had been in use, AAAAAAHHHH!)

to this:

-sort of wake up, but not really

-sling baby across body

-Dave continues to snore

-feed baby for 10 or 20 minutes, both of us dozing

-slide back down in bed, to sleep

Will and Dave went to New Jersey without us this weekend, leaving us behind because of the afore(much)mentioned car screaming, and I thought I'd be disappointed but also appreciative of some alone time with Finn. Instead, seven hours into the alone time, and all of Finn's giggles and smirks and dimples, even his joyful yodeling when I sing "Mighty Duke of York," have done little to remedy the melancholy I'm feeling because Will isn't by my side.

I miss his latest move, the one where I try to get him to do something silly and he chuckles and says, "Ma-mawwwwww," almost ruefully, like he's in on the joke. I miss his most recently adopted phrases, from "Big! Hug!" to "Blue car!" and "Mama drive," with the accompanying steering-wheel-maneuver hand gestures. And when I walked into the playroom shortly after they had gone, I almost burst into tears because it was so quiet, and his dump truck was going to sit unused for two whole days, and what is the point of this playroom if he's not here to use it?

(I know. He is gone for two days. As my dear friend Ceci reminded me, I can actually "sleep when the baby sleeps" this weekend, and even--gasp--go to the bathroom all by myself! It's just so tough to enjoy being home when my supersized chatterbox toddler isn't here to force me outside or tell me about the "BUS!" with "WHEELS!" and...I need to stop writing about this or I'll be near tears again.)

On a less sentimental note, did you guys know that 1-800-Contacts is actually awesome? I just never thought about using them before, and the other day when I realized I was down to my last pair but didn't have to go back to the eye doctor for another six months, I went online and ordered some and they came not two days later! And a year's supply was WAY cheaper than what I usually pay--and I got free shipping. Of course, when I had to call and ask them a question, I stood there for literally two minutes scanning the order form for their phone number.

Yep.

I was frustrated that I could not find the phone number for 1-800-CONTACTS. Let that one sink in.

So, in summary, I miss my firstborn and my mommy brain still reigns supreme over here. Have a great weekend!

Keeping Me Sane, Take Two, Part Two

New Category Alert: For Breastfeeding

First let me say that I think I'm uniquely positioned to talk about good breastfeeding prep and troubleshooting because I had that nightmarish experience with Will and have now established a wonderful rhythm with Finn. However, as I mentioned in a prior post, that rhythm took a LOT of hard work to establish, even in the months before he was born.

• A prenatal lactation consult--if you're looking in the Boston area, Beth Sargent at Isis Maternity. Knowing she was on my team and knew me personally before Finn was even born gave me a feeling of preparedness.
• A postnatal lactation consult--STAT. I visited Beth at Isis when Finn was 3 days old, and scheduled the visit directly after his first pediatrician's appointment so that if my doctor had been concerned about weight gain, Beth would have reassurances and strategies for me.
• A supportive pediatrician. He might be supportive that you DON'T want to breastfeed, supportive that you do, or just your cheerleader in every way. Mine was non-dogmatically pro-breastfeeding, so when Finn's weight gain was a whole lot slower than Will's initially, he was completely unfazed. He never even mentioned the word formula, only suggesting that if it would make me feel better I could pump an extra bottle to top Finn off at night. However, just as importantly, he wasn't opposed to formula--he asked questions and supported me in my goals.
• (FYI, topping Finn off at night has never really worked for us.)
• A postpartum doula. Jen was helpful in every way, but she made herself available over the phone even before her scheduled weeks began, even before Finn's arrival, in fact. She laughed gently at me when I kept insisting that I had thrush because of completely made-up symptoms I was assigning myself. She told me about other women she'd known who had my experiences, referred me to websites, and all the while helped me run my household of two small kids.
• Makeshift nursing bras. Basically, I cut out the underwire in my larger pregnancy-sized bras and voila! A nice supply of nursing bras. I never used the snap/panel trappings of the "real" (and usually expensive) nursing tops anyway--it's always been way easier to just pull everything up in one quick motion.
• The Brest Friend and Boppy. Leah used to make fun of my pregnancy pillow, the Snoogle, but that was before she caught wind of my new nursing pillow, the My Brest Friend. Oh how I wish I were making that name up. And yet, it really was great in those first three or four weeks when I didn't know WHAT I was doing and Finn certainly had no clue and would just lie there until I shoved his head toward me at the right angle. After that first month, the Brest Friend was too cumbersome and now I use a Boppy when I can get to it, or I prop him on a pillow or a balled-up blanket or nothing at all.
• Having someone teach me how to nurse in a carrier. If you use the Bjorn or an Ergo or a sling a lot, it's great to learn how to nurse in it. The Ergo's easiest for me because the sun flap that comes with it snaps over his head and there's a space on each side that allows me access if I need to position him a little bit. But it's enabled me to nurse him on walks or just without having to lurch him out of his cozy pouch, and that's been helpful.
• Breastfeeding drop-in group (also at Isis, for me)--I only went once but in the weeks following I'd go in every Tuesday and weigh Finn on the same electronic scale, just to pacify my mind. This was a friend's suggestion, which leads me to:
• A friend to mull things over/talk things out with; if you're lucky enough to know her, I highly recommend Bianica. We've even discussed how similar our lives are even though we are many miles apart. She always has reassuring things to say, but more importantly she has practical tips that WORK, like the weekly weigh-in suggestion. Having her as a sounding board has been invaluable.

For the Toddler:

• Friends in the neighborhood. I've already buttered them up in many a post here, but I can't say enough good things about Will's playgroup friends and their parents. In this good weather, we've been spending mornings at the playground, which helps to...
• ...wear out the children! I just bring Will outside (which he demands all the time anyway with his little lisp--he actually climbed on top of the ottoman the other day to unlock the door and chant Out-THIDE, Out-THIDE, Out-THIDE) and hurry him around the neighborhood or let him scale the playground structures. We both see our friends, we get a healthy dose of vitamin D, and he slept through diaper changes on two separate occasions last week because he was Just So Exhausted. Win!
• My parents' house. It's a change of scenery, boasts a variety of novel toys and household items, and is a great bribery tool, as in, "As soon as you have your socks and shoes on, we can go to...Nan and Mamp's house!" This invariably leads to Will padding around the house pointing out things that belong to or remind him of Nan and Mamp, but it also eventually convinces him to stop kicking off his shoes and head down to the car.
• Stuffed animals. They are suddenly very interesting to him, and he likes to kiss them and then pretend that they are kissing each other. (Especially "Soft Elmo" and regular Tickle Me "Elmo.")
• Non-board books. I know! It's a whole new world! Recently he's been loving Dig, Where the Wild Things Are, and this noisemaking monstrosity his godmother got him for Christmas called Snappy Sounds or some nonsense. (Thanks, Auntie Lo!)
• CDs in the car--we have been on a constant rotation of Sara Hickman's "Toddler," a Rockabye Baby compilation of rock songs turned lullaby (think harpsichord-meets-Guns-'n'-Roses. No, really), and Elmo's Sing-along. They keep me and Will sane while we endure Finn's ear-splitting screams of protest.

I'll finish this list up as soon as we sell our condo, move to our next house and...see you in 2011?

Keeping Me Sane, Take Two, Part One

The last time I wrote a post like this, Will was almost two months old and it was November. NOVEMBER. Not chilly-with-sun-peeking-through-wait-is-it-really-going-to-be-eighty-degrees-tomorrow? April (sidebar: April!! Woo-hoo!), but honest-to-god-here-comes-winter NOVEMBER.

Oh, how I pity the new-mommy me of yesteryear. If I met her now, I'm sure I would be nastily condescending, saying things like, "Honey, you don't have to order groceries--just go on the weekends," or "Ha ha, I remember when my biggest problem was how to prepare lunch with a baby strapped to my chest." I would DEFINITELY tell her to lay off the TV, because really? The Wire and True Blood and (shudder) One Tree Hill? You were that bored? (No, I do remember how much more boring it was with a newborn when I didn't have a fun, chatty toddler to entertain me. Sorry, did I say entertain me? I meant RUN ME RAGGED. Anyway!)

This is part one, and there will be at least a couple more posts like this--apparently the amount of stuff I need to keep me sane has increased exponentially in the last year and a half. Wonder why...

On TV or DVD (or, new sub-category, On My Bedside Table)

• DVR'ed episodes of Modern Family, Cougar Town, Gossip Girl, 30 Rock, The Office
• On Demand episodes of Parenthood, The Pacific, and 16 and Pregnant (oh yes, really)
• Coming soon: Treme on HBO, probably Glee if I can't help myself
• Not so much anymore: How I Met Your Mother. Because, when?!? When will you meet their mother? Enough already!!
• O magazine--um, my mom and I both have subscriptions now...need I say more?
• Entertainment Weekly: we started subscribing for free through Dave's extra-but-useless Delta miles, and now I count on it for good music and book reviews, which brings me to
• The Help by Kathryn Stockett: the book club selection du jour, and not, in my opinion, a Literary Work of Genius, but definitely absorbing and well-written
• Baby/toddler books galore, including: Happiest Toddler on the Block by Harvey Karp, Your Child's Growing Mind by Jane M. Healy, Bright From the Start by Jill Stamm (my favorite so far), and Raising an Amazing Child the Montessori Way by Tim Seldin

For the Baby:

• The bouncy seat (OMG he likes it! He really likes it! Coos, giggles, bats at the fish LIKES IT!)
• The swing (won't put him to sleep, but will keep him asleep)
• SwaddleMes, just like his bro
• The wipe warmer (TWICE now I have laughed in the face of the naysayers who claim it's a novelty item, a pretentious extra--both my boys require this thing)
• Ergo, Baby Bjorn, Ergo, Baby Bjorn. I wear Finn all day long, even down to the car where I put him in his bucket seat (thus thwarting the entire purpose of having a bucket seat) and then again when I retrieve him from the car.
• Dr. Sears' Baby Book. I have probably used most of the standard baby reference books out there, no joke, and I have to tell you that this one works best for me. It goes overboard in its praise for attachment parenting (I don't choose to wear Finn all the time because I believe in it as a method so much as because IT WORKS) but it's also sensible plus the Searses are a nurse-practitioner mother and a pediatrician father WHO RAISED EIGHT CHILDREN. A bonus is that they don't rely on scare tactics to guilt you into following their advice, which I've found a surprising number of these books DO.
• Sleep 'n' play outfits, again. This time, I only tolerate the footie ones with snaps or zippers all the way up the front. These Gerber ones are my favorite because they're thin enough to layer over without overheating Finn, and because the 0-3 month size actually fit him for about two months and the 3-6 size actually fits him now. I also like the thicker, cuter Carter brand sleep 'n' plays.

Sad but true mandatory disclaimer: No one's ever paid me to praise a product.

Finny Finn Finn with the Dimpled Grin

Finn is an easy baby.

Or, as I like to say, either Finn is easier than Will was, or I am easier than I was with Will, or both. Probably both--I just ask Finn to go with the flow as much as possible, and Finn honors my request, and it makes things seem EASY.

Don't get me wrong: there is stuff that is objectively not easy. Finn isn't a marathon sleeper like Will was. He has a long stint in the evening, from 8 or 9 to 2 or 3 in the morning, but then he's up every two or three hours again, so he almost always wakes us up just before Dave's alarm is set to go off anyway. That's not great timing, FINTAN DAVID. But we'll forgive you because...

...your dimples, kid. There are two of them, although one looks like it's here to stay while the left one might be a driveby dimple. Still, when they come out to play it is beyond cute. Today you had your first real laugh, this delighted inhalation while I was singing "Mighty Duke of York" and lifting you up on my knee.

(Another thing you have two of: man boobs. You are filling out nicely, and as of the last few weeks you have added some thigh rolls and chest chub and a full extra chin to complement your original chin.)

Finn has also gotten on a schedule of late. It's not a fabulous schedule, but it's predictable. OK, not so much of a schedule as sa routine. He likes to fall asleep in the Ergo (like a Baby Bjorn) carrier, and after a while he'll allow himself to be transferred to the swing or bassinet. Hot Tip: He must be swaddled to endure this transfer. When he wakes up, he needs to nurse within fifteen or so minutes, but can be distracted by some face time with someone--anyone--and a few songs or tickles. Like big brother Will, he uses but is not addicted to his pacifier. Hopefully he'll follow suit with Will's six-month pacifier self-weaning, too.

So, that's it. His nighttime and morning wakeups are only to eat, although sometimes at six or seven a.m. he'll stare at me until I smile, and then he'll smile back. His afternoon wakeups show more of his smiley personality. Finn's only kryptonite so far is the car seat. As much as Will loved his car seat, chose to sleep there, still falls asleep there regularly? That's how much Finn hates it. And I've only just figured out why: he doesn't want to be left alone. He cries when I leave the room, although that could be more of a "Wait, where's my lunch lady?" cry. He loves it when Will comes over to point out his toes/nose/ears/mouth/chin/elbow, interjecting a "Goo-Gah!" or "Hiiiiiii!" and dotting him with kisses.

So basically, Finn loves attention, being held, being talked to and kissed, and eating. He hates the opposite of all those things. And who can blame him?

Furthermore, who can resist him? YUM.