hygiene

Skipper got her first bath last night. We've been wiping her down here and there, but we hadn't given her a real bath in all her eleven days of existence. She was filthy. She smelled funky. She had bits of food in her creases (the only problem with carrying a baby everywhere in a wrap).*

We were dreading the bath, and putting it off, because Dutch HATED baths for the first 18 months of her life. She screamed so hard during her first bath that we were afraid she was going to rupture some important blood vessels. While aware that Skipper is an entirely different personality, Cook and I were expecting the worst with the bath. Of course, Skipper handled it like a pro. She fussed** some, and didn't seem happy about the whole thing (but how would we tell, anyway?), but she didn't scream until Cook pulled off the bandaid over her spinal-tap-puncture. (It's been on a week, and showed no sign of ever peeling off on its own.) Then she screamed. We forgave her.

I know I've got to stop comparing my two children, since that's not a good path toward a healthy sibling relationship, but it's hard not to at this point, bcause Dutch represents all we know about babies, so she's necessarily our reference point.Skipper is a lovely baby, but we still know very little about her.

*Today, after eating a hardboiled egg, I found a small yellow thing on Skipper's shirt. I looked at it, decided that it was either egg yolk or a curd from Skipper's latest poop, and THEN I PICKED IT UP AND ATE IT.  Without  thinking twice or even smelling it. I think that's really all you need to know about my current state of sleep deprivation and general disorientation.

** When Dutch was small, I'd hear other parents use the word "fussing" to descibe their baby's response to something, and I would be mystified.  Dutch would cry or scream or not cry. She never fussed. Skipper fusses. Now I know what it means! I love it! It's so mild and manageable!