Squishy weighed in at 11 pounds, 12 ounces at her two month well baby checkup this morning. It would have been more if she hadn’t pooped beforehand. The doctor admired her Little Beetle ONE diaper and showed off the Snappi to the intern who was following him on his rounds. The intern looked a little puzzled by the use of cloth, but the doctor said that he wore cloth diapers when he was a baby. They fiddled with her feet and played poke the baby (but not too much, because I had been nursing her when they arrived) and said she was a “perfect baby”. Then they sent in a nurse to give her shots.

The weather was miserable, but I drove to and from the office without incident. First time driving since I was seven months pregnant or so, and it had to go and rain. After the appointment, I stopped at Giant on the way home to get milk and bread and cheese, just to prove that I could actually be out and about with the baby and without any backup.

The afternoon was royally trashed, though, when she woke up from her car-induced nap. Holy crap, the screaming; it was horrific, and I’ve never heard anything like it from her. Every time she moved her leg, it hurt. Because it hurt, she would scream. Because she was screaming, she would move her leg. Talk about miserable. Finally managed to find a perfect position for her to sleep in and settled in to hold her and snuggle her and make it all better.

It was a day. This evening I need to work on a PSD-to-CSS conversion and convert this blog to WordPress. I don’t think I can handle using Movable Type any longer. Every time I log in, I want to scream and tear my hair out.

In one day, I will be at Squishy’s two-month well baby checkup.

In ten days, I will be in New Jersey.

In fourteen days, I will be in Chicago.

Augh!

And in twenty days, I will be back at home.

1. The only thing staving off the baby blues is large doses of chocolate in the form of Lindor truffles. Exhausted? Eat a chocolate. Frazzled? Have another. My complexion doesn’t seem to mind, neither does my waistline. From my hips to hers, as it were.
2. Her name is officially Squishy. Really, we were going to go with Madeline, but Squishy is so much more appropriate.
3. I did the cloth diaper thing. Prefolds are right up my alley; years of origami folding finally pay off.
4. Holy non-diaper-escaping baby crap, but [these diapers](http://betterforbabies.com/organic_cotton_diapers.html) are the bestest diapers ever. Matthew may finally be able to change a diaper on his own. I swear, I would totally buy underwear made out of this material. Softest. Velour. Ever. Ended up getting a few (a very few, but they are worth every penny) for Matthew to use when he changes diapers, nights, and traveling, since juggling a squirming Squishy, a prefold, a doubler, diaper lotion, and wipes can get complicated.
5. Marcus is studying Canada. Rebecca is studying Mesopotamia. Both are doing well in their math and reading. Science textbooks for children… well, they’re better off reading a selection of non-fiction science books, and let’s leave it at that. Regular walks to the library help get us all out of the house. Squishy usually falls asleep in her sling after the first block.
6. I have a five gallon pail of laundry detergent in my living room at the moment. 1,280 loads’ worth. I do a lot of laundry.
7. Squishy likes listening to her CDs. Squishy likes listening to her CDs a lot. Matthew and I can sleep through her CDs, we are just that tuckered at the end of the day.
8. Squishy also likes listening to Tim Gunn. Squishy may discover a love of fashion later in her life, because I have a playlist of all Tim Gunn, all the time.
9. Marcus is warming up to Squishy. He offered to hold her while I got him a snack the other day. For an eight-year-old boy, that’s warm.
10. Rebecca loves her little sister. God help me, but I got her _The Little Mermaid_ DVD for her upcoming birthday. And _Cinderella_. I am so going to hell.
11. I cannot upgrade Movable Type, because 3.3 breaks tags something fierce for me. Instead of taking out my frustrations on my defenseless computer, I have been knitting. Rebecca has cabled mittens. Squishy will have a jumper. Yay, knitting.
12. Mostly human. Mostly.

Says Matthew, “That’s my Squishy!”.

Says I, “Um, you realize where you got the nickname ‘Squishy’, don’t you?”.

Says Matthew, “No.”

Says I, “_Finding Nemo_. You are calling her a jellyfish.”

bq.. 12. What is this person’s ancestry or ethnic origin?

_(For example, Italian, Jamaican, African Am., Cambodian, Cape Verdean, Norwegian, Dominican, French Canadian, Haitian, Korean, Lebanese, Polish, Nigerian, Mexican, Taiwanese, Ukrainian, and so on.)_

??The American Community Survey, 2006.??

p. I’m sorry, but there isn’t enough room to write “Polish-German-Lithuanian-Norwegian-English-French-and a dash of washed up Swedish sailor”.

I am waiting to hear back on whether “American” is a valid answer.

I had forgotten how small newborns are. I was gently reminded on August 21, just before midnight.

I _thought_ I was winning. Three days of only seeing one or two ants per day, of obsessively vacuuming and Swiffering the kitchen floor once in the morning and once in the evening, of keeping the sinks empty, the counters clear and clean and full of Simple Green-y goodness, of thinking that maybe, maybe the bait and the traps were finally kicking in…

And then the little bastards go and ruin the illusion.

Last night, I walked into the kitchen and flipped on the lights and heard a very, very faint… crackling. It sounded like Rice Krispies would sound if they were tiny. It was coming from the soda bottle. Snap, crackle, pop. What the heck?

The ants. The little tiny ants were chewing on the plastic lid with their little tiny mandibles. Some had found ant heaven and there were little tiny bloated ghost-like ants floating in the root beer. Some were merrily working their way towards that goal. ANTS!

So we will surround the house with a layer of bait a mile thick… again. The battle was lost, the war goes on.