Molly McButter

Poor Miss M. Now every time I say her name I add "McButter" to the end and sing the commercial jingle. Remember the fake butter you could shake on things? Do they still make that? We all call her this horrendous nickname and I really should stop but I can't (just like I can't stop watching Full House reruns).

Miss McButter (see?) is hovering around 6 weeks now. I always get a tad confused on the weeks and just go by the day of the month she was born (5th) as her new month of age. Weeks--meh, too hard on my math-challenged mind. We can't quite tell if we've had any 'real' smiles yet but boy does she grin big just before her projectile spit-ups. She is still waking every 2-3 hours per night and hasn't read the baby books that say she should/could be sleeping longer stretches by now. I'm hoping she hops on board the 'typical baby' bus soon and really, just 5 hours in one stretch is all I need. That and I need for Miss F not to have nightmares and Mr B's phone to not go off with emergencies on some oil rig off in foreign waters all night long (as I'm sure he would like that, too). I am truly amazed, though, at how deep I can sleep for small, 45 minute periods. As you can tell by the photo, not so anamored of the bath. She's an escape artist and gets out of the tightest swaddles AND scoots around in her bed so the blanket it at one end of the bed and I find Miss M flailing and crying on the complete opposite end. As Miss F would say, she's a nut-ball (and Miss F also calls her a 'poop machine')