new baby, rev. 3?

Okay, now this is a baby I really don’t know.

He slept through our first mother’s group meeting this morning (this is not my mini-group-of-mom-friends that I’ve mentioned in the past, but a real, facilitated, large circle of women and babies I’ve never met that it costs money to participate in for the 8 weeks of meetings — a “Mom’s Group” capital M, capital G). He woke up at the end to nurse. Seemed entirely unconcerned about his diaper.

We came home, he nursed again. Seemed a little fussy. So I put him in the bouncy chair. He’s completely content.

Oh, and while I was getting us ready for mom’s group outing this morning, he didn’t cry. In fact, he was totally happy to just lie in his crib in the nursery and look up at the musical mobile. (If only the darn thing would last longer. I kept having to run back in and wind it up again.)

Seriously, people. WHO IS THIS BABY?

And in the interest of just keeping y’all posted on the effluvia:

Yesterday, he spit up like a fountain. Like he’d never met spit before and suddenly his mouth was full of it and then oops it was running down my back. Need to get more spit-up rags and distribute liberally at arm’s reach throughout house.

And yesterday, we had a very exciting EC catch — dare I write it? Poo. In the toilet. At 8 weeks. He’s a poo superstar. A pooperstar. With my help, of course.

How did I know? He farted during a diaper change. It smelled like yogurt and maple syrup (at least to me — that’s what it smells like). I held him over the pot. I waited. I almost gave up. I took him back to changing table and saw, shall we say, evidence of movement. Ran back to toilet. And voila! Into the breach!