Poopy lip

Every time I talk to someone about Thea and her howling, they ask me, "But she's getting better now, isn't she." Ummm. Yah, the last 15 minutes were OK, so it must be getting better, right? I can't keep track, really. I think she's getting better. I seem to be getting things done, and most of the time, it's not while she's howling. But I still haven't stopped thinking of her as a grenade about to explode. She serenaded the Homer Safeway store the other day, and proved that grandmothers everywhere want to fix your baby for you when she's turning purple and choking.
I took her to Liam's preschool the other day to pick him up and she hollered her head off. We were outside, and the school dog, Curtis, joined in, howling along with her. What a crack-up.

One fun thing happened a couple days ago when Liam discovered he could push Thea in her swingy chair. She smiled up at him like he was a god. Honestly, he has a big fan in her. He's been giving her more hugs and smiles lately.
Nights haven't been great lately. She woke up every two hours the last two nights, and won't let me move her to the cosleeper. I woke up this morning at 6 and gave up after several hours of pretend sleep.
Liam has been hot and cold. Definately more attention-getting stuff going on. Yikes. Double Yikes. Right now he's marching around the living room playing his guitar and singing. Loudly. Lots of sharps and flats. Can you say future metalhead? I gotta get him in violin lessons, quick.