My sister, upon hearing about our extremely easy first week, said, “I had a baby like that, too…for three weeks.” And it seems true — three weeks brings a change. Our zunzun is still an easy baby, we realize — at least so far — but he’s shifted his needs away from being a snuggly slug on the sofa.
He sleeps during the nighttime hours, though the 4-5 hour chunks of week 1 are history, with few exceptions. He wakes up to eat about 4 times, but he’s generally pretty easy to get back down so far.
He is an extraordinary breastfeeder. We’ve got a boob man on our hands. He has a strong distaste for pacifiers (generally looking like we’ve stuck a lemon peel in his mouth when we offer it), and is warming up slowly to bottle feedings (though he has yet to take a whole meal from the bottle, instead preferring to view it as an appetizer before heading to the real thing for his entree). I have a very forceful letdown, and he warmed up more to the bottle when we tried one with a slightly faster flow.
[Side note here to say that I can’t stop thinking of him as “Milky Pete” when he eats — he self-regulates his intake by spitting out the milk he gets while comfort sucking. And sometimes he just straight up gets sprayed all over his face before I can catch the stream. “Milky Pete” was a running joke in the house last holiday season. It’s a drink made from milk and vodka, something my dad saw prostitutes drinking on some tv show. So gross. And an inappropriate nickname for this newborn son of ours…I just can’t help it.]
He’s growing like a weed. He’s now 23 inches long, weighs in the neighborhood of 11 lbs, and is wearing 0-3 month clothes (though 0-3 onesies are pulling pretty taut when he’s wearing CDs, which he now does all day *except* when we run errands [we’re still doing disposables at night for now]). My family is all shocked by how big he is, largely because our niece is 15 months old and is *tiny* and has always been tiny. She currently weighs 17 lbs and is 29 inches tall. He looks monstrous next to her.
He burps like a champ, often only requiring a change of positions to elicit his sailor noises. And he rarely spits up (though because almost all his comfort sucking takes place on my body, he occasionally overeats and horks it right back up).
He loves taking baths, and has even begun to tolerate being less than toasty warm while he patiently waits for us to give him his final rinse.
But the last couple of days he’s been much fussier, insistent on almost constant movement in the daytime, waking up when he’s put down, and doing his first crying “for no reason.” If it gets too far, he will usually be placated by nursing for a few minutes. But he generally wants to be jiggled, held, walked, and to stare at the Christmas tree in my parents’ living room.
The good news is that we’re at my parents’ house for the next couple of weeks. He’s getting passed around a lot, enjoying tons of snuggles. My dad is superior at baby calming. And my mom loves changing diapers. Go figure. He’s currently sleeping in a borrowed K’tan while I swivel in a chair in the living room. For the next couple of days I have him mostly to myself during the day, while my parents and A all work diligently. I’m gonna need to head back to the chiropractor when we get home, that’s for certain.
And finally, the man of 1000 faces offers up this little gem for you. Where is that tiny baby that was born just a few weeks ago?