Today Veronica is six months old, and here's her new measurements:

Her head measures in the 65th percentile.
Her weight is in the 40th percentile, at 15 lbs.
Her length is in the 85th percentile, at 26.75 inches.

So yeah, she's long and skinny. The doctor's saying she now gets solid foods three times a day, oatmeal to replace the rice cereal. What can I say? My little baby's growing up. I already look at her and wonder what happened to my floppy, squishy, tiny little newborn, the one who could not smile nor laugh, the one who cried but could not coo. And yet it seems like there was never a time she couldn't hold her head up, or reach for the cat, or roll over onto her belly.

The doctor checked out her muscles too, as she still doesn't hold herself up on her arms, cannot sit up anywhere on her own, and doesn't lock her legs when you hold her up with her feet on the floor. The doctor's diagnosis? She's healthy, her muscles are fine, she's just...lazy. Yes, the doctor said "lazy." I don't appreciate this assessment - my mom's been calling me lazy all my life, and I can't say it's done me any favors - but I'm relieved that she's OK. I prefer to think she's just moving at her own pace, that when she feels like locking her legs or scooting forward then she will.

In other baby news, and as an update to my previous post: Zane is still in Children's Hospital. The diagnosis was the best case scenario of all they were offered: He just wasn't getting enough to eat. Anne was solely breastfeeding, and she just wasn't producing enough milk anymore.

However, the solution to this problem remains elusive. Anne has tried to give Zane formula before, and is trying again now; he just can't figure out how to work a bottle. Even tricks to make him think he's still breastfeeding don't work, as he refuses to eat the formula. Apparently he just can't stand the taste of it. Since Saturday he's had a feeding tube down his little nose, having formula pumped straight down his little throat.

His discharge date was originally around Sunday, then Monday. Then Tuesday. Now, they're saying at least another week, as they try to get Anne's milk production back up again. I'd say that's a risky proposition, as she could just as easily stop producing again, but the doctors really don't know what else to do. We're running down to see them again tonight, bringing some supplies and such. Fortunately, Anne not only has us in the area, but also her and Jason's sister Lynn and her best friend Tina. And Zane is getting better; the almost emaciated, sad little baby I saw Friday night, the one who made me cry at the sight of him, has been replaced with a little boy who stands solid when you hold him, lunges for his cousin Veronica, smiles when his mommy makes faces at him and blows raspberries at his daddy. That being said, though, the entire situation is sad, is scary, and makes me hold Veronica just that much tighter, give her that many more kisses, treasure that many more little smiles.

So today’s my 28th birthday – yay! And so far, so good.

I’ve gotten cards and checks from friends and family, near and far. Jason got me some movies on DVD (This is Spinal Tap, The Sandlot, and Raising Arizona – whoo-hoo!), a beautiful pair of gold and pearl earrings, and dance lessons for the two of us at Fred Astaire studios.

Here at work, I got more cards, candy bars, a dozen red roses and a little stuffed angel bear with an October birthstone on it. Plus one of my co-workers paid for my lunch when we went out to one of my favorite local restaurants.

Tonight Debbie, our daytime babysitter, will be watching Veronica while we go out for dinner and who knows what. It’s been a wonderful day.

All except for one thing. And it’s something very big.

Zane, Veronica’s cousin who is only four days older than her, is ill. He has lost two pounds in the past two weeks – not much for me or you, but that’s a lot for a six-month-old. And I get the feeling that although that’s the most serious symptom, it’s not the entire problem. So his parents, Jason’s sister Anne and her husband Ben, brought Zane to Children’s Hospital today to see what’s wrong.

They ended up admitting him, saying they needed to run some tests. Maybe they’re just covering all bases. Maybe this is what they always do with children this young, or under these circumstances. I don’t know, and neither does Jason, and neither does Anne or Ben.

So although I’m happy to see my roses on my desk, or my earrings in the mirror, I can’t help but look at the pictures of Veronica on top of my computer monitor and feel sad. I feel bad because I don’t like to think of any child, much less one who looks a good deal like Veronica, hurting so much. I don’t like to think of myself in Anne’s shoes. And part of me has the guilt of having the healthy, happy baby – and being so thankful that I do.

The surprises just keep on comin'.

Tonight Jason just decided to give Veronica some education in music. He took her to the piano and let her bang around on the keys for a few minutes, while we did the same. She was not impressed, preferring to look at the display of photos on top of the piano. (And our Bruce Campbell bobblehead doll - she ended up playing with that for a minute. That was funny....)

Then Jason suggested I play my drums for her. Seeing as she really didn't like the piano, I didn't see a point to it but figured it was a good excuse to sit behind the kit again. I mostly used the brushes instead of the sticks so I wouldn't play too loudly and hurt her little ears.

She loved it.

I did a very sub-par drum roll on the snare, using the brushes, and she smiled really big and just laughed like you would not believe. She giggled a bit when I played a simple rock beat with some fills. And even when she wasn't smiling or laughing, she was enthralled. We were psyched. We couldn't believe how much she loved it.

Every day it seems to be something new. It's the best. :)

We've got a great kid.

First off, Veronica's discovered that, not only can she grab her feet, she can stick them in her mouth. I know all babies do this at some point or another - we even have a photo already of her cousin Zane doing it - but it's so hysterical to see it for the first time, in person.

Secondly, I'm thinking she's wired for music. This could just be silly Mommy speculation, which happens to the best of us. But even in the womb, she seemed to kick and move to the beats of the Foo Fighters playing "All My Life" on the radio. Now, she kicks and bangs her toys when music is playing, and even though it's not always exactly on the beat, it's certainly not discordant, either.

She can even be calmed down by music, like the little song I made up for her in the hospital when she was hungry ("Veronica, Veronica, you're the best baby in the world! Veronica, Veronica, you're Mommy n' Daddy's precious little girl. Veronica, Veronica, now come on, sweetie, don't you cry! Veronica, Veronica, your food will soon be coming by." Laugh if you want, but for spur-of-the-moment I think it's pretty good. Plus she likes it, which is the important thing.) She likes it when Jason sings "Mexico" by Cake to her. And yesterday, on the drive home, she was starting to whine in her carseat until I turned the radio to Jane's Addiction's "Been Caught Stealing" - she didn't make a peep after that, as I sang along, swayed along, and explained to her what a good bass grove is. :-)

She's growing so fast too. She's almost as long as her playmat. I'm thinking we'll need to purchase a new, bigger one. She's babbling a lot more now too, and drooling. And on Sunday night, she ate carrots for the first time and loved them. She's so agreeable. I'm going to be shocked the first time we feed her something she doesn't like.

That's all the news here, as the same schedule mix of work, home, babysitter, and occasional date with someone else watching Veronica at home continues.

One of life's simple pleasures:

Taking off my glasses to clean them, then realizing the smudges are from little baby fingerprints.

:-)

Oh wow, did we have a great weekend.

We saw the Toledo Museum of Art. We ate out at a nice seafood restaurant along the Maumee River and followed it by a walk along the park by the water. We swam in the indoor pool at our hotel (which we hadn't even booked; our hotel had lost our reservation and paid the difference for us to stay at the Homewood Suites behind it, meaning we ended up with a one-bedroom suite and an overall better hotel for the same price.) The weather was perfect, cool but not cold, sunny, a little breezy, with all the leaves changing colors. We ran into at least six wedding parties through the course of our weekend, and why not? This is a great time of year to get married, obviously. ;-)

But I'd say the best part of the weekend was the alone time. No baby, no cat, no real responsibilities. We slept. A LOT. Sprawled out in that king-sized bed with three pillows and just vegged. All in all, a wonderful anniversary weekend.

And of course, had I had reason to worry about Veronica, then the weekend would've been awful. But no, we had Jason's Aunt Emily and his cousin Maria watch her at our house, and they had a great time too. Maria is around nine years old and just loved playing with the baby; fortunately, the feeling was mutual. It looks like Veronica just adores her, smiling and laughing whenever she's around. And Emily's taken care of all her nieces and nephews all these years - even Jason when he was small - so she was totally at ease with Veronica. (In fact, I daresay Veronica seemed happier when Emily was caring for her; I feel like, upon our return, Veronica's care went from professional level to that of a rank amateur. I mean, not like we have any clue what we're doing - we're just kinda making it up as we go along.) And it was wonderful to hear that Veronica was so good, only fussing when hungry or tired, and otherwise just being a delightful little baby - looking around Red Lobster or the mall when they went, and smiling coyly at passerby who stopped to comment on how pretty she is.

A good weekend for Jason and I, that was much needed. A good weekend for Veronica, who was loved and coddled all weekend long. The only one of us that had a bad weekend was Pita, freaked out by the houseguests and our absence, until we came home. Although I'd say all the snuggling we've gotten from her tonight, and have returned to her, has more than made up for her weekend. :-)

Yesterday was my and Jason's fourth wedding anniversary. What can I say? So far, it's been a rocky road, with problems stemming from both of us. And yet, everything is wonderful too. I think all the things we've been through have only made us even stronger, where I never even knew we were weak. It seems like such a long time, such an achievement - but when I know that someday we will be celebrating anniversaries not with a baby, but a girl...then a teenager...then a young woman...then a middle-aged daughter...then it hits me that we're only just beginning this journey, and what a wonderful journey to take.

This weekend we are spending alone, with Aunt Emily watching Veronica at home while we travel to Toledo. We will wander hand in hand through the art museum. We will dine at some overpriced restaurant with only each other. We will spend the long, dreary drive up 23 together with only our conversation and a few CD's to entertain us. (We used to have friends that lived in the area and went to visit all the time, rarely ever playing music, preferring only to talk the entire way. I miss those conversations; it might be the reason Jason suggested the trip there again.)

So this post isn't about the baby. It's about her mother and father, and how before they were known as Mommy and Daddy, they were Maranie and Jason. And how, even though their titles have changed forever, they will always be Maranie and Jason at heart. :-)

(Note: I'm not sure any of this makes sense - all I know is, although I already miss Veronica, I am so looking forward to this trip and being alone with my husband. Forgive me if I wax romantic, and therefore stop making sense - because since when did love make sense, anyway?) ;-)

Well, this could be something pretty amazing, or it could be Mommy imagination taking its toll. Whichever it is, I'm under the impression Veronica may have spoken her first word today.

I had placed her in her crib this morning and went to the bathroom to wash my hands after a diaper change. When I returned, I leaned over to look at her in the crib. She looked up. She smiled.

She said, "Hi!"

I said "Hi!" back and she continued to grin, then babbled for a few minutes.

This sounds ridiculous, and coincidental (or accidental), but you must understand that every morning, when Jason goes to her crib to wake her, he says "Hi" or "Hello!" to her first thing. So I'm under the impression that she got the connection. Although, even if she did, who knows when she'll make the connection again.

In other news:

Our child is very, very odd. We love her, but there's some things that just leave us scratching our heads and saying "What the hell, man."

Case in point: The butterfly rattle mentioned in the previous post? She doesn't seem to care about the bright colors, or the little mirrors. No, her favorite thing about it are the manufacturer's tags on the butterfly's butt. I'm not talking price tags, I'm talking brand tags. She's constantly grabbing for those little white pieces of cloth, the dexterity of her hands rarely being good enough to securely grab them. She's enthralled by tags on her bibs, on her toys, one on her changing table mat - anywhere there's a tag, there's Veronica, and she's loving it.

And when she sees such things, she "talks" to them. She stares intently at them, or her pacifer when she's trying to get it in her mouth, and just go "AAAAAAAAAHHHHH" at whatever the object is for several minutes. It's adorable - annoying, but adorable.

Maybe this is everyone's child, but I hope not. I love these little odd things she does. They are more precious to me than I could ever imagine, and I get sad to think of the day when she will no longer do any of them.