Playing Parent: Two month check-in

It feels like forever since I last wrote, but honestly it's been day to day survival around here. Slowly getting into a sort of schedule even without us trying. We usually sleep as late as we can until the baby wakes, sometimes it's 9 or 10 or 10:30. I'll feed her and then lay her back between us (that's where she sleeps). She stays awake and her Daddy entertains her while I pump, walk the dog, and shower. She seems to be the most happy at this time because she's well rested and fed. She laughs and talks and kicks. Then we all go into the living room and eat breakfast and watch The Price is Right. She starts getting fussy around 11:30 and I walk around with her and get her to sleep. At this point she could sleep for a couple of hours while we watch Golden Girls. She's sleeping on me at this point because I'm crappy at laying her down. Every time I do I wake her up and it's a whole other process to get her back to sleep. Our afternoons usually include running around somewhere on an errand of some sort. Later I play with her while Johnathan makes dinner (sometimes we hang in the kitchen with him and I dance with her to country music). We try our best to get her settled if not asleep by the time we eat, but that doesn't always work. Once she falls asleep we usually move it to the bedroom and watch tv while she sleeps.

The other day when she fell asleep I put her in the room and then went back out to the living room, leaving a monitor on. I was a bit of a nervous wreck. Every little peep she made I stopped and listened. Of course she was fine, it's what all people do, put their baby to sleep in another room. But it was my first time, give a girl a chance to adjust. The funniest thing was at one point I heard: grunt, grunt, TOOT. That's our girl!

A week ago we were in Target on one of our afternoon errand runs and Bonnie was getting fussy. So when we were checking out I pulled her out of her stroller and held her. I had this surreal moment. Standing there holding a baby, who is mine. No one can tell me not to do that or make any decisions for her. She's my daughter. Even though I often feel silly and not at all grown up enough for the job, I know I'm who she has and she relays on us to do the right things by her. Leave it to Target to bring about big life realizations (other than "I really do need this thing and that thing").

Do we ever feel like we're responsible enough to have children? I still feel like the little girl I was most of my life. I feel like the six year old who chose to watch tv instead of going to soccer practice. I feel like the middle schooler who used to buy nondescript romance novels so my dad wouldn't know what I was reading. I feel like the high schooler who had perfect attendance because I was sure today was going to be the day that a crush would notice me. I still feel like the college student who totaled her car because she fell asleep on the way to work after staying up too late the night before. I feel young and inexperienced, even though I'm sure I pretended experience before I had my child. I struggle to find the balance between my selfishness and my need to do right by her. Are we ever fully prepared to shape a life? I guess we'll see. I hope and pray that she turns out as fantastic as can be.

She turned 2 months yesterday. I can already see big changes in her. She's much more alert and pays attention more. She enjoys her playmat much more then she had even a week ago. Hitting the toys with purpose, looking at herself in the toy mirror and laughing. She reached out to herself when Johnathan was standing with her in front of a mirror. Her laugh and smile are the best things in the world. As tired as I may be in the middle of the night, I still adore hearing her laugh in the other room while Johnathan changes her diaper. He is absolutely the best with her. Talking to her and being silly with her, he definitely talks to her better then I do.

She had her 2 month doctor appointment today and checked out perfectly. She now weighs 11 lbs. her weight and head circumference are about 50th percentile, but her height 23 inches is 75th percentile. I'm glad. I want her to be tall. She got two shots, which breaks by heart, I never like to see real tears in her eyes. But she took em like a champ and only cried a little.

Random notes:
* I always have to give her little kisses on the cheek whenever I pick her up. I so wish that she knew that means I love her.
* Jericho is so protective of her. He can't stand it when she's really really crying so he cries too until she's ok. The other day we put her in her pack n play and he couldn't see her. He was very concerned. He kept standing in his hind legs trying to get a look at her. I brought a stool in and stood him on it so he could see she was ok.
* We had our first diaper blowout the other day. She had a little belt of poo around her waist. The onesie went in the trash, which was a shame because I liked it. Oh, but what joyous luck; we had bought a duplicate on consignment the day before and didn't even realize it until after the fact.
* The delivery now feels like a dream. I see now how people say you forget because it was all worth it. All though because it feels like a dream sometimes I wonder how I got this little bundle.