Just Call Me Jane (Goodall)

Mira's new obsession is . . . her feet. Yes, she's grabbed her toes a couple of times, but that's not what I mean. I now have to keep everything out of reach of her little monkey toes. We've always known she had toe potential, being as long as they are, but this is ridiculous. I swear she'll be one of those prodigies playing the piano with them someday.

Mira loves her Grandma Behrens. Grandma and Uncle Jason came up for a visit last week, and I've never heard so much talking from this little girl. Granted, Grandma talked back in "her" language, which seemed to make the conversation flow a little better, but let me tell ya -- she sure doesn't chat with me the way she did with Grandma! Unfortunately, while Grandma was here, Mira boycotted sleep in any form. Naps were minimal and sleep at night was all but unheard of. I was up every hour. Literally. It was ugly. Since then, we're back on track. All hail the nap! Mira is now napping solely in her crib and on something of a schedule (albeit a schedule set by Miss Mira herself). It took some training -- more on my part than hers. I had to get used to listening to her scream for a while. Today, however, she went down with only one minute of crying. Beautiful. And last night? I was only up once to replace her lifeline (aka pacifier) before she got up to eat at 5am. I guess there's something to this nap schedule and nap/bedtime routine thing afterall.

With each step forward comes one step back, right? Mira seems to be losing interest in the bottle. I've tried switching her to the "stage two" nipples, but that only complicates matters (what with all the formula down the front of her, the choking, and all). She's clearly not understanding the whole cause and effect thing yet because she gets awfully mad when she knocks the bottle out of her mouth (yes, she's even done it with her feet). She cranes her head all over the place; she bites the nipple; she talks with it in her mouth (okay, that's very cute). And all this when she's been screaming because she's hungry. I don't get it. The new messiness of feeding her a bottle combined with the copious drooling she does (she blows so many bubbles, I often wonder if she's foaming at the mouth) means double the laundry.

Ah, motherhood. It's incredible. Am I blissfully happy? Yes. Madly in love? Yes. Ready for another one? Ah, no.