Ahhhbuuuum Eeoieeeee

The bug turns four months today.

Sure.  Yeah.  Not exactly a reason to bust out with a cake.  But, then again, any excuse for a cake is a good excuse.  There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of hype to the fourth month milestone.  (Just the typical photo of baby doing Upward-Facing Dog)  

Perhaps the fourth month changes are just not that easily captured in a photo.  All the motor skills and balancing and dexterity are starting, but not quite there.  It's a fun stage.  Exciting for both parent and child as we feed off each other's joy that "Ooo.  That was two seconds of sitting up by yourself.  If you hadn't looked over at the cat so fast, you might have stayed up longer." or "Yay!  You just grabbed the toy with both hands and put it right in your mouth (I can already see where today's encouragement becomes tomorrow's bane)." Especially seeing the bug light up when she realizes she's more capable makes the fourth month a big step in my eyes.

I've seen her frustrated at her limitations for quite a while now.  Her noticing when she's not as limited is new.  She'll try something (grab for a toy, try to right herself before toppling over, laugh while exhaling...) and it will work out the way she intended it to (for the most part).  That's when her eyes get wide and her jaw drops.  I crack up.  She smiles real big and does the four-limb shimmy.

One big, important development - talking.  Not really talking, per se.  It's more of an incessant rambling of vowels with the occasional soft consonant thrown in to keep the listener on his/her toes.  Kinda like the news. Where it gets difficult is when she wakes up for a bottle around three in the morning and gets all chatty.

I sit her in front of me (on the Boppy, on my lap, on the glider rocker) and listen while she regales me with what is clearly a rather amusing account of something.  I listen politely, playing the dumb foreigner by smiling, nodding, and generally pretending like I'm following along when, in fact, I'm waiting for her to run out of steam.  The other night, after a particularly edge-of-your-seat dramedy played for thirty minutes, I swear I heard her say, "Now let me tell you about my second minute of life."

If you've ever rented a Czechoslovakian comedy without subtitles by mistake, you have a pretty good idea of what I'm working with.  Not that I mind, say, around three in the afternoon.  For that matter, if I'm not trying to get back to sleep, I'll join in and we'll have long father-daughter talks using sounds that would make the Teletubbies scratch their heads.

It does beg the question.  How long can one engage in baby babble without it compromising the integrity of one's novel writing?  Considering I'm going for the commercial voice and eschewing the literary, I'll take my chances.  Wouldn't want to miss out on any of the bug's stories.

Ring Duck For Service

Swaddles have never been much of a challenge for the bug.  We've tried a few recommended baby origami patterns and the Swaddle Me with death-grip-louder-than-it-needs-to-be velcro.  Doesn't matter much.  She can free her arms in her sleep...  With one arm tied behind her back...

The swaddling has been critical and we couldn't have done without it.  She doesn't always remember how to fall asleep and often, when she does, that crazy startle reflex can put a quick end to some hard won nappage.  Yet, swaddling isn't forever, right?  Don't misunderstand.  She's a great sleeper.  (Except when she's not.)

I try to encourage the bug to develop a better hand-eye coordination (Are they making video games for babies yet?) and this seems to be increasing her options for some rather creative swaddle twisting.  A few times I've had to unlock the baby to feed and/or change her.  At least she laughs about it.  (She's not always pleasant to be around when she's impatient.)

This last week a new thing has started.  The sound of a rattle when she should be swaddled.  (We have wrist rattles at the ready on the sides of her bassinet.)  I walk up to her and who knows how long she's been awake or what came first: the free arm, or the wakefulness.  Then I watch her have a grand ol' time smacking that duck-faced wrist rattle like a speed bag, calling out De La Hoya.

We're not quite at the point yet where she can get her quality sleep without the swaddle.  Yet, we're passed the point where it's all that effective.  I don't think there is a hard and fast rule for when to discontinue swaddle use because the answers I've seen have all been vague.  "When it's no longer working."  Define working.  "When she can get out of it."  (Uhhhhh...)

Does anyone have any clarity out there?  If she's gettin' all million-dollar-baby on us, do we just have her figure out for herself how to be still enough to fall asleep and stay asleep?  Or are her calisthenics going to eat into her beauty sleep?  What do you think?