Hard Knocks

Poor Baby Girl is having a bit of a rough week on account of her newly strict Mama, who's forcibly cutting her off from night feedings, since she's starting to take advantage of that lovely 1 a.m., 3 a.m., and 5 a.m. "fun" time of eating, instead of chowing down during more sensible hours of the day.

It's been tough--on both of us, to be honest. And Daddy, too. Especially since Mama's being mean during nap time, too. Lots of crib, not lots 'o cuddling.

It's a week of independence, and poor Baby Girl is really letting me know what she thinks about all of it.

I'm sure if she could form many four-letter words, she'd use 'em.

But since she can't, she's letting her body language help out.

Throughout the entire fit she pitched (and yes, it was a fit) before finally caving for her midday nap, she hung onto one of the slats on her crib like it was her lifeline. It was heartbreaking. The little bugger even feel asleep with her hand still wrapped around it:

But I'm happy to report that after shunning me just a bit when I first went to get her when she woke up, she warmed up, and then "rewarded" me with her first poo since Saturday. The little stinker (quite literally), let loose right as I stuck her in her freaking car seat to run to Tar-jay. I got her out and onto her changing table in like 2.5 seconds, but the mass destruction was already done.

Lemme just say that this one required Mama to take off all her rings before diving in. 'Cause I don't know about you, but I do not want to be cleaning shite out of my diamonds. That's where I draw the line.

I had to toss EVERYTHING she was wearing and EVERYTHING in the vicinity of the changing table immediately into the washer before I hauled Baby Girl straight to the bath tub.

Just your average Wednesday.

For the record, this is what she looked like before the explosion:

:)