Posted by: Ingrid | February 28, 2014

Four Months: In which she learns the thing called “sleep”

Dear Liliana,


I am starting this during the twelve hours after both Isaac and I got the stomach flu in the night (Thanks, Jonathan, we love it when you share. :-/)  It was the fast and furious type, fast being relative as I basically was up most of the night, but then it was done.  It was the first time I’d thrown up since, gee, October 27 or 28th, probably, and it made me miss pregnancy even less than I’d missed it before.

Speaking of sleep (which is a much nicer subject than puking), we got our act together, set up an additional pack n play in the living room, and implemented a few sleep strategies and voila, you can sleep, after all.  The first 6 and 7 hour stretches were magical.


And “crying it out” for 10 minute chunks never has gone beyond 1.5 cycles.  Sleeping more is awesome.  I highly recommend it.  You actually went 9 hours without eating (though not without waking) the other night, proving that you have indeed been holding out on me in terms of sleep.  You want to come feed me when I cry every two hours, Mom?  Okay!  Your dad has been great about popping in the pacifier while I sleep with ear plugs and the door shut.  Particularly when I shuffle out and he has his timer going and he sends me straight back to bed.  I cannot recommend the “more sleep” bit any higher.


I was trying to keep notes this month, so that I would actually remember what you were up to.  But apparently I kept them on three different pieces of paper and I can only find one, which also doubled as my shopping list to the Amish store.  So four months: much like three months except with more sleep.  I love it.


Though let it be noted, I clipped your nails for the first time.  Which is once more than I ever clipped the boys’ nails.  And now I see why I didn’t do it with them – it is not a task for the fainthearted!


You are growing out of all sorts of clothing now and I really need to pull things out and put them away in the totes downstairs.  You are filling out nicely, with all the lovely baby chub and I am caught calling you a “chubby bunny” more often than I should.  Though I am guessing you might prefer that to your other nickname, Princess Poopy Pants.  You have also started laughing when I blow raspberries on your round baby tummy.  Very rewarding.


You laugh a lot in general, though fake sneezes seem to amuse you immensely.  You laugh at your brothers (especially Isaac) and whenever you are bounced or we do Patty-Cake.  I get enormous baby chuckles for that.


You are quite chatty as well, usually in the morning, when you wake up very happy, or sometimes in the middle of the night when you should not be up.  You look so sincere as you enunciate your nonsense syllables and you will talk, talk, talk, to a person or to the ceiling.  I called you a “chatty Cathy” the other day and Isaac made sure to remind me, while rolling his eyes, that your name “is not Cathy.”  Talking is also your favorite game if I nurse you before you get hungry.  You start talking and chuckling to me until the milk lets down and douses you.  This is not my favorite game by any means.


You still look like your dad, our little Clintina, with a bald patchy spot on the back of your head.  It’s ok.  We all think you are ridiculously cute anyway.  You also manage to do a nice Chris Farley the-female-version, when you feel like it.


Sometimes I remember to put you in tummy time.  The way you kick your legs up and swing them around when you are on your back, I wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered rolling soon.  You love your little swing (though not as much as your brothers do), which finally has batteries and lights up and plays tinny music and swings on its own.  It is a life saver in the kitchen when I am trying to get dinner together and you are a happy camper.  You are still trying to grow into your exersaucer which is also providing a great deal of amusement to your brothers for now.


You have enjoyed your play mat and have begun reaching for the weird octopus (but he only has 5 arms, so pentapus?) and the mirror that dangles over your head.  The best part to me is when you grab things with both arms and then can’t figure out how to unclench your hands.  You lay there, puzzled, looking a little like a baby Olympic gymnast attempting the rings with your arms spread open.


You are weighing in at 15 pounds.  No longer do you feel like a light additional accessory when you are in your car seat.  Instead, the word “lugging” comes to mind.  Funny how quickly that happens!  Since you still are a constant fount of spit up, I am happy that some of the milk you drink seems to be sticking around.  You truly have an uncanny knack when it comes to the timing and the rapidity of your regurgitation.  The other day I fed you, threw a beach towel over my shirt, and lo and behold, you managed to spit up down my sweat shirt and shirt.  So disgusting.  I don’t even know how you did it.  It must be a gift.


So on we chug, into month five.  Supposedly Winter will end some day and it will be Spring again, although with the wind chill at -24 this morning, I have sincere doubts.  I am hoping Spring comes sooner rather than later, as you have inherited approximately one long sleeved shirt in the 3-9 month size.  And yet somehow you have about fifty pairs of pink leggings.  Maybe we will just all don footie pajamas with you until it warms up.






  1. Ah sleep! glorious sleep! suddenly the world is a much better place. (your little lady is adorable, btw) Still praying, Betsy

    • Thanks, Betsy, for the continued prayers. I am definitely appreciated more rest!

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