Aurora Wells

I’ve been hearing about this four-month sleep regression thing, and it sounds terrible. Apparently, lots of babies who slept perfectly well at three and a half months turn into restless, needy creatures at four months, waking every two hours again, like they did when they were newborns. I know that not much Brian or I do will really affect whether Aurora sleeps or not, or for how long, but the one thing we had control over, her name, may just be our saving grace.

Now, I’m not a superstitious person at all, but I think in this case nomen est omen, or at least it seems to be a great coincidence. This morning Brian and I woke up at 7:30 to… silence!?! “You put her to bed at 9:30 last night?” “Yeah.” “Do you think she’s okay?” “I guess we could check.” And there she was, all bleary-eyed but happy, quietly waiting for us to pick her up. Now she’s slept for a few long stretches before, and she usually gets a good six-hour stretch in a night, but this is definitely a record for her. Sleeping Beauty, indeed.

So, anyways, I hope that when the four-month mark rolls around in a couple of weeks, she only regresses to, say, one feeding at night, or back to a six-hour stretch, not the frightening stories of near-constant wakings I’m hearing about from my friends.

Also today, Aurora and I went out to lunch at Beans on Cambie with Judith. Judith snapped this photo of Aurora looking longingly at my tuna melt (note the big drool patch). Not, yet sweetie, you’re going to have to wait quite a while before you can have a sandwich as delicious as that one!

Aurora’s Bubbie (that’s yiddish for Grandma) had a hard day today, so I’m posting a photo especially to cheer her up. Although she still hates tummy time, Aurora can tolerate it for a couple minutes longer now that she can hold her head and shoulders up off the blanket. The blanket is from Margot and the fabulous jeans and hoodie are from Bubbie. We’re really looking forward to visiting you soon!

Daddy’s project to chart how his little girl changes as she grows up.  Each Sunday night (plus or minus a night) I will post a portrait of “the Amazing Aurora”.

No, Aurora, you’re supposed to shoot your web away from you, not into your mouth!

…stick your fingers in someone’s mouth? Aurora turned three months old this week, and she’s continuing to explore with her hands. She likes to get her knuckles kissed with loud, smacking sounds, and is pleased as punch when she can reach the target (Mommy’s mouth). Aurora weighed in on her birthday at 11 pounds, 15 ounces (with diaper), and 23 inches long, in the 50th percentile for girls. Although everyone says she’s really tiny, we think she’s juuuust riiiight!

Sorry no movies this week, but I’m going to have to take the video camera back with me down to California to see if either of my brothers can figure out how to transfer the movies to my computer. I tend to feel like I’m exactly in the middle of a continuum of technology users who range from totally hopeless to fantastically capable.

On the plus side, here are a few pictures of Aurora’s terribly fashionable going-out ensembles.

Sweater and pants courtesy of Selena & Alex

Giraffe outfit sent by Aunt Jane

Vintage 1972 overalls (thanks for keeping them, Janis) & new Gap sweater thanks to Ben & Nallely

We try to wear something besides pajamas during the day, even if it takes us until after noon to change.

Aurora’s bedtime has been drifting a little bit later and later for weeks, until it eventually got to be after midnight. So, a few nights ago we tried putting Aurora in her crib to fall asleep on her own at 9:30. What a disaster! She started out calm and quiet, then became annoyed, then angry, then gripped by escalating panic. We tried to calm her without picking her up, as recommended, but that worked about as well as a swiss cheese rowboat. In a hurricane. We decided that if we have to rock her to sleep for the rest of her life, so be it. We can move to wherever she gets into college, and hope that she eventually marries someone who’ll take our place and rock her to sleep with lullabies. Neither Brian nor I are exactly weak-willed, but we decided that it was some cruel form of self-inflicted parent torture, and we’re just not that masochistic.