Life is going well these days, if a bit static on the action front. Ronin continues to morph her daily habits just fast enough to keep us totally confused and seems to weigh just a bit more every time I feed her. Honestly, I was shocked she weighed only 15.3 pounds at her 4-month appointment; my lower back and tendon of my left thumb were certain she weighed 16, if not more.

Today, I tentatively announce our very first poop strike. As in, she did not go at all. I feel like I am carrying around a time bomb and it makes me very, very nervous. If that is not bad enough, we are also low on laundry and if she blows out the current pair of pants, we’ll have only the pink kitteny last-resort pair to fall back on; basically, things are tense.

I have read that it is “normal” for breastfed infants to go up to seven days without pooping. In light of the shocking amount our infant manages to concoct on a daily basis, the idea that she could conceivably store it up for seven days is mind-blowing. If things don’t get rocking soon, I shall develop acute agoraphobia and spend my days hovering over the changing pad, a fistful of wipes at the ready. The anxiety, it will be mind-numbing. The sweating, profuse.

Enough poop. New parents always talk about poop.

Joshua and I passed another couple pushing their baby in a stroller the other day and as we exchanged pleasantries, the woman said, “I just love how babies carry their hearts on their sleeves.” And I sort of smiled and nodded and we wandered off but later I thought about it and she’s right. Babies are simply not able to conceal their feelings at all; it’s kind of an amazing thing really. They can be so ecstatically happy about being outside on a walk or being given an exciting new toy (a wooden spoon cool can of Pabst, say) and it is so obvious, and then the next moment they can be tragically sad because, um, some air molecules shifted not to their liking? Hard to say. They are also completely unselfconscious, for instance, one baby I know once loudly and startlingly pooped out a pantsful RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF DINNER WITH GUESTS. Complete with grunting and hilarious facial expressions.

Everyone laughed politely.

And, because I’m aware I have somehow gotten back on the subject of poop, I shall segway back into something that is not poop: this awesome youtube video. Seriously, watching this thing is like my hobby these days. I see it’s been viewed over eight million times, but actually 1.3 million of those is just me. Usually around, say, 4:15am… (Monkey!)

[Yummm. Chocolate-orange-chipotle cake]

We’re really happy with our new cousin Terry. I didn’t get any pictures of the ceremony itself but here’s the always popular cutting of the cake. Overall, a fun wedding and a great opportunity to see all the Coxwells.

[Great Grandpa Tucker!]

[Cousin Nick and Cousin Keely]

[Jedi Master Morgan strikes]

[Ronin finally crashed out after hours of screaming on Joshua’s lap. Looks like *somebody* will have to sleep in a sitting position on the couch tonight…]

It’s been bloody hot here lately. Last Sunday or something, Joshua’s mom told us that she had heard that it would be high 80s—maybe even 90s—and as we drove to Astoria through the wind and rain, barely able to see the very road before us due to the gloomy darkness cast by the shadows of the trees under the thick overcast sky, we thought to ourselves “That woman? She’s DEFinitely hitting the Charles Shaw a little hard these days.” However, Tuesday hit and it was, well, weirdly balmy. And then Wednesday? I swear it was 95 degrees. Of course, it is not unheard of for the weather to be so warm here in Portland but not all at once like that! We need to ease into these things. We need more than a day’s advance warning; this suddenness just confused everybody. Wednesday night we slept without the two comforters we normally huddle under. I slept poorly and when I lifted Ronin out of her cradle, her head was lying in a damp circle of baby head sweat. Thursday it was 100 degrees. Thursday night I sent Joshua to the store to buy a fan.

Joshua returned with two different fans. Evidently, the Fred Meyer fan aisle was a ransacked disaster and, seized with consternation at this sudden famine of fans, he bought pretty much the only two left. One of them didn’t even come with a box or tag or any identifying branding information. Maybe it wasn’t even for sale. Thursday night was better and we’ve had the thing running almost nonstop since.

Ronin’s sleep habits continue to confuse: she is a terror to get to sleep these days and we end up rocking/bouncing/feeding/bouncing/dancing/singing/bouncing her endlessly before she’ll succumb. Then she’ll sleep soundly, only getting me up twice (or once!) before she gets up the next day. I was just getting used to this pattern when she 1) was a howling monster to get down Sunday night, taking nearly two solid hours of etc. etc. to finally sink into a fitful sleep and 2) she then proceeded to get me up every two hours before deciding her day (and mine, and the neighbor’s) was ready to begin at 5am.

Today was her four-month well-baby checkup and second round of immunization jabs. I think we both were looking and feeling our best when we arrived at Doctor Cynthia’s this morning. We had a new nurse who was less than proficient when it came to recording the stats but here they are, more or less: Weight: 15lbs 6oz (82%); Height: 24.75 in (65%); Head circ: 16.5 in (73%). She had to take the head circumference measurement three times, the first two times she measured the tape to the 1-inch mark, then didn’t subtract an inch from the total. Joshua pointed this out to her and she measured incorrectly again. We gave up thinking we would have the doctor re-take her measurement, then when we were waiting in the exam room, the nurse came scuttling back in with the tape saying maybe she would get that head measurement one more time. Yep. Anyway, Ronin was pronounced healthy and very alert and basically a wonder baby.

Then the nurse returned with the junk. Two shots for one leg, one for the other, and a squirt thing of goop for her to swallow. This nurse (who was wearing Dora The Explorer scrubs) was also not as good at administering vaccinations as the last one and it took about five full minutes for her to squirt the 1cc of liquid into her mouth, “we don’t want her to choke now.” I hate having it drawn out like that even if it was the not-ouchy part. I kept thinking how here we are with our perfectly healthy little baby and now they are putting all this stuff in her and what if she gets a bad dose. I thought about smacking the vaccine out of her hand, grabbing the baby, and making a run for it.

And of course she wailed tragically when the shots were given and tears flowed freely from her tightly-shut little eyes and the moment the shots were done, we pretty much just got the fuck out of there. Poor thing. She was fine about two minutes later and actually quite cheerful really. We preemptively gave her some baby Tylenol when we got home (more drugs, sigh) and went out for some grocery shopping.

It’s cooler today (high 80s? 90s?) and the fan is still running. She went to sleep earlier without too much hassle but woke back up again and now Joshua is bouncing bouncing bouncing her back down.

[Astoria, Oregon 800×600]

We enjoyed waking up to this view.