Spoiled little me

I got lucky with this one.  I've never had a difficult baby--no colicky screamers or general grump pots.  But certainly there have been challenges.  Keilana was one of the happiest babies I've ever known.  A very in-your-face kind of happy, much like she is now.  She's always had intense, over-the-top energy and emotions.  She was rarely upset, but when she did cry, boy did she make it count--that kid could shriek and wail like Armageddon was upon us (much like she does now).  The girl never slept.  I would read all these magazines and web sites that would say newborns mostly just sleep and eat, never really fully alert for more than 20 minutes or so.  Ha.  Keilana apparently didn't get that memo.  She would nap for 15-20 minutes and then be wide awake for a couple of hours.  Then repeat.  She didn't sleep well at night, either, but we couldn't sleep train her because we lived in an apartment complex and were sure the aforementioned shrieking would make all of our neighbors hate us.  She wanted to be held all the time--not so much for affection as because she just wanted to go, to be doing something all the time.  She still needs near constant stimulation/attention to be happy.  Intense, that little girl. Delightful, but intense.

Then came Dylan.  He slept so much that for the first week or so I was convinced something must be wrong.  He didn't move constantly.  He was strangely self-contained, right from the start.  His intensity is of a different sort altogether.  His ability to focus on something--for long periods of time--is uncanny.  By his first birthday, he would already entertain himself with one activity for literally hours at a time.  He has a will of steel.  Not in the tantrum-throwing dramatics of his sister's style, mind you.  No, Dylan simply will have his way.  He's going to be a great deal of trouble I'm afraid.  As a baby he was more "into everything" than average.  Everything was endlessly fascinating to him and he could not be distracted.  He has the kind of brooding, focused intensity that is reminiscent of his father.  They are a great deal a like.  Sometimes I have no idea how to deal with either one of them.  So often I just let them deal with each other.

And now we have Kylie.  I had a traditional epidural with her (yuck!) and so when I went to bed that night in the hospital I was fairly numb.  Not wanting to have to call in a nurse to get her from the bassinet for me if she awoke, I just brought her into bed with me to sleep.  And sleep she did.  They woke us up at 3am to give her a bath (if I had been in a clearer mental state, I would've asked that nurse to leave, or just slapped her in the face), and then she nursed and went back to sleep til about 6:30.  The first night home from the hospital she slept from midnight until 7.  The next night, she was fussing and having a hard time going to sleep;  my mom took her, sent me to bed and got the baby to sleep (have I mentioned that my mom is awesome?).  She's slept through the night pretty much every night since.  Oh sure, she's been a "restless sleeper" here and there at times you'd expect (learning new skills, teething, etc.), but less than half a dozen times in her 8 months have I actually been out of bed with a fussing baby during the night.  She is content and mellow during the day.  I rarely have to hold her or carry her around, because she is happy to explore on her own or play with her brother and sister.  I sometimes forget about her momentarily because she's so quiet.  And she's SO happy.  That great, big smile is something we see a whole lot of.

When Keilana was a baby I mentioned to my mother in law how nicely it worked out that she loved to "go", because we were so transient and traveling so often.  Katy said, "Well, the Lord sends you the ones you need when you need them."  Kylie has simply been further proof of that.  If I'd gotten another Keilana this time around, with such a high demand for attention and affection and stimulation and never, ever enough sleep with Doug gone so much and all the other things I've been (or should be) doing, I probably would've gone a little bonkers.  If I'd gotten a Dylan, with the need to be so extra vigilant lest he dismantle (or worse yet, try to construct) something he ought not, I'd be worn out.  But I got the sweet, mellow baby who's just happy to be here. I love all my kids, but I sure am grateful that they came in the order that they did!