Another initiation

One miraculous thing happened Saturday night, for only the second time in MJ's short life. She slept for FIVE straight hours. I don't know how she decides which nights she will bless us with this gift, because the first time was one week ago, at Memaw's house, and since she hadn't done it since then, we thought it was a fluke. Yet there we were, still sleeping at 5am, when she'd gone to bed at midnight. I'll admit, the first time this happened, I totally freaked out. I kept running across the room to make sure she was still breathing, and when it was his turn, I kicked Mike in the back to get out of bed and check too. Needless to say, we totally wasted this first gift from our baby in order to run across the room every twenty minutes. Not last night. We accepted it for the blessing it was and let ourselves sleep, and what do you know? She was still as heartily-lunged right after 5am as she was the day before. Now, I have reason to be so skittish. A sweet friend tragically lost her second son when he was only 5 weeks old. He was completely healthy, and went to be with Jesus, without explanation, while sleeping in his crib. You can read her family's story here. I can only hope this gift from MJ will keep on coming.

Mike & I were otherwise officially initiated into parenthood by another "gift" from the baby. When I woke up after her second stretch of sleep at 8:00, MJ was stirring next to me in our bed. Mike sometimes puts her between us after he gets her back to sleep. I went to pick her up, and felt something damp beneath her. That's right, our precious angel wet the bed. Groaning, I unwrapped her swaddle and began to change her diaper. Just then, Mike began to wake, and when I showed him her handiwork, he offered that it was probably "just sweat." Really? I don't think sweat is yellow-tinged, pours out ounces at a time, or smells uriney. After spraying stain treater on the spot, I took the baby into her room to feed and dress her, calling over my shoulder for Mike to strip the bed so we could change the sheets. But guess what? He didn't, and I promptly forgot about it.

In my family, we call the great things babies can do "tricks." As in, "let me see your tricks, little baby! What tricks can you do?" Babies tricks get cuter and more impressive as they get older. Anything a baby can do can be considered a trick, like learning to crawl. As a toddler, my cousin Katelyn could flip a pacifier from upside-down to right-side-up with her tongue; we used to put it in her mouth upside-down just to see her perform. She could also whistle when she was barely two-years-old, and as soon as she could speak she was singing "Crazy 'bout a Mercury" by Alan Jackson. These were all considered her "tricks." MJ has tricks too, according to my mother. Unfortunately, they are not as endearing as Katelyn's, and consist mostly of pooping and projectile-vomiting, although as posted earlier, she can also smile and roll over. Yesterday, MJ showed us that even though her tricks are pretty basic, she is still a performer. Mike & I took her to the park for a stroll. We stopped about halfway through the walk to sit at a picnic table and have a snack. MJ got a little fussy, so Mike took her out and gave her a bottle. As she was eating (a trick, of course), Mike suddenly exclaimed, "oooh, and we're peeing!" I guessed that her bottom had gotten a little warmer, a telltale sign. Mike shifted her weight, and we both spotted the circle of wet on his jeans, slowly spreading. Oops. A trick! My mother would be so proud! I thought I was going to die laughing. I hurried to get out her changing pad and a set of clean clothes, since obviously hers were soaked, and Mike started stripping her. Then we noticed another trick. Not only had she peed through everything, she had the most ginormous explosive poop either of us had ever seen. The diaper was a fresh one, and even it couldn't contain this particular brand of trick. It was everywhere, up her back and running down her legs, and we were sitting out in the open, at a picnic table, and at the bottom of the wipes container. Lord, help us. I can't imagine either of us would have done if it had just been one of us with the baby. Once we got her as cleaned up as we could, we strapped her into her stroller and hurried home.

As soon as we got there, we knew it had to be bath time. MJ normally hates baths, but I guess even she couldn't take but so much poop in her armpits. It was a lovely family moment, and we all enjoyed scrubbing the baby until she was squeaky and shiny. We bundled her up again in a comfy sleeper and let her eat a little more. But how much is too much for an almost-six-week-old? Let me tell you. It's four ounces of formula at the park, plus another ounce in the car, plus twenty minutes of nursing. This equation equals another trick, and that is somewhere close to seven ounces of milk ejecting at full force towards the face of the person holding the baby: me. Insert the daddy rushing as quickly as possible to wipe our faces and attempt to soak up as much "trick" as he could with no fewer than three hand towels.

Once little Machaela had been bathed again, swaddled, and snuggled to sleep, Mike & I both decided it was time to call it a day for us too. We tucked her into her cradle, turned to our wonderful king-sized bed, and wanted to cry. We'd forgotten to wash the pee sheets from that morning. I firmly believe that at that moment, it crossed Mike's mind to convince me to lay a towel over the spot and sleep around it. If I hadn't been so disgusted by all of her other tricks that day, I might have let myself be convinced. Thankfully, he didn't try any convincing, and without a word we both just started stripping those darn sheets.

Please, MJ. No more tricks.