1. She crys. A lot. Now before you roll your eyes and say "of course she does Ann, she's a baby"--hear me out.
She crys for hours. With a feriocity that threatens to bring down the roof on my 100+ year old house.
Emelia has cried more in her first four weeks than Oliver did in his first 6 months. After one marathon 5 hour session I called our doctor, and he suggested I bring her in. She performed well for him--which made me happy. Not because I want her to cry, but because I didn't want the doctor to think I was crazy.
When she wasn't better the next day, he asked me to come in again. We have no answers, but I feel better knowing that a seasoned vetran of pediatrics confirms what I've been thinking... she crys A LOT.
2. She hates having her diaper changed.
3. She spits up--a lot. I think this may have something to do with #1 above.
4. She has really long fingers.
5. And toes. She couldn't wear the newborn size clothes because her feet were to big to fit in the footies!
6. She sleeps better than Oliver did (thank goodness). Usually two 3-4 hour stretches per night.
7. She is really strong. She was holding her head up before we left the hospital. The other day she almost rolled over straining for her nuk which was just out of reach.
8. She is pretty in pink. Which is good because we have a lot of pink.
9. She is the loudest sleeper I know. I still get up at night thinking she is fussing, but she's not. Just grunting, squeaking, snorting and yes, crying... in.her.sleep.
10. She squeaks. A lot. Andy has nicknamed her "Little Mouse."
I knew that there would be some bumps in the road as Oliver learns his new role of big brother. Overall, he is adjusting nicely.
As I've previously mentioned, he loves Emelia and is very affectionate with her.
Except when he hits her.
Which he has done twice.
Which really isn't that bad considering she was born three weeks ago. Right?!
Then there is the acting out. Good grief.
Oliver and I no longer speak the same language. Here are some illustrations.
When I say "no" Oliver takes it to mean "go ahead."
When I say "stop" Oliver hears "keep doing that."
The "I-read-everything-on-the-internet-I-can-find-on-parenting" mother in me knows that he is testing his boundaries and that I need to be firm and consistant which will provide him with the security he needs to feel loved.
The human in me says "for-crying-out-loud-I'm-going-to-pull-my-hair-out-if-you-don't-behave" -- lets just say it's been a bit rough.
A high point for me came on a night when Andy had to work late.
We sat down to dinner, Oliver, Emelia and I, and we were all in tears.
But we are learning each day, and surviving...one day at a time.
Everyday when Oliver and Andy come home from work and daycare, Oliver asks, "where'd the baby go?" (assuming I'm not holding her) and runs to check the usual places-the swing, the bouncy chair, the play pen.
It has been so fun to watch how he interacts with her... he is so gentle and loving. Oliver asks to hold Emelia every day. He hugs and kisses her more times than I can count. My heart melts as I watch him gently kiss her on the top of her little head and say "I love you baby."
I think it is safe to say that Oliver is smitten with his little sister.