ten eleven weeks old

Ten weeks and growing. At least she was when ten weeks old when this post was first started. Now, she's a growing eleven week old, full up on vaccines and ready to travel. First trip, Paris.**

Our bitty baby is now a sweet bundle of ten pounds, thirteen point five ounces. That's just a little bit more than two bags of sugar if you're counting by sweet, though the truth is, ten pounds of dixie crystals is nowhere near close enough to measure the sweetness that is this baby girl.

Isla is tall, or perhaps long is a better description. Her 9-week check-up measured her head-to-heel length at 23 and a quarter inches. Though the girth of her tiny little body still fits in newborn size clothes, her long torso and legs are stretching the limits of her 3-to-6-month-old sleepers. She is swallowed up in the extra fabric, but is, at least, able to stretch out her legs.

Her disposition is mild, though she requires much more attention in this infant stage than did her big sister. She is a good sleeper, snoozing nearly every night for five consecutive hours, though there are occasional mid-slumber awakenings for a snack to tide her over 'til dawn. She likes to be held, she hates to stay in a wet or dirty diaper for one second longer than it takes her to utilize it, and she adores her big sister, smiling for her almost every time she sees her.

She smiles now and laughs, and still makes those sweet little grunty noises (the same little grunty noises that had us and our night nurses slightly concerned the evening she was born) almost every moment that she breathes. She can hold her head up for a fairly good length of time, and has even started to roll from her tummy to her back.

She does not cry often (her sister may disagree on this point, and would probably, if asked, relate that her baby sis cries all the time), but when she does, she really, really does. This child will not starve or suffer from the smallest amount of discomfort, for her wails will summon anyone and everyone within hearing distance - and with her lung power, that's a lot of folks - to her aid without delay. We-the-parents rue any miscalculation in feeding times while driving as those last couple of blocks home are near unbearable with a hungry Isla riding in the back.

**We're not going to Paris. Not yet, anyway. Her first trip was to Jacksonville.

eight weeks and two days old

and resting. Pretty well. Last night our little Bun slept from 12:30 ante meridiem clean through to five-point-five hours into the ninth of September. Not to be outdone, our growing Bee slept, alone in her bed, without waking up once from roughly twenty-three-hundred until nine-thirty this morning.

What???!!!!???!!!!

Yes. And that means that we-the-parents also slept, quietly, without waking (or at least waking to feed or comfort someone other than ourselves) for five beautiful hours.

Isla is resting now. Right now, this very moment, as I type this in fact. She has just returned from her baby shower (how much fun is this to do after they are actually outside the womb!) where she was adorable, awake, and quiet - aside from her standard repertoire of breathie, gruntie, baby noises (remember, the 'ie' makes it feminine ...). The super-sweet friends that Dadoo works with made her a special party lunch, complete with delicious chocolate cupcakes, sweet tea and yummy subs from Mama's new favorite sandwich shop. Her big sister got to come, too, and all four of us had a blast.

In other recent Isla news, she's a total pro at head-lifting and throwing, though like her sister before her, she doesn't love tummy time yet. She's sweet and snuggly and likes to be held - a lot - and when she's smiling, she's really, really, really smiling. She smiles most at her big sister, which in turn makes we-the-parents really, really, really smile, too.

Here's what a Bun looks like at eight weeks: