Random bullets of Tuesday

• My parents, and their dogs, left this morning after their week-long visit. I am simultaneously very sad that they've gone and totally relieved to have the house back to myself. My wonderful father is a clutterer: when he's here, the case for the video camera is in the middle of the living room floor; his laptop and papers are on the dining room table; the DVDs he's copying are scattered around my desk. We keep our house pretty neat (note that I said neat, not clean), so the clutter stresses me out.
• Lobster and steamers, while a wonderful summer meal, are extremely difficult to consume with a cranky baby in a sling.
• Salad and blueberry pie at 9 pm does not a balanced dinner make.
• Our next-door neighbors have been doing a ton of work on their house. After weeks of asking leading questions about their intent, D finally learned that they are, in fact, planning to sell in a couple years, when the guy's 91-year-old father dies and they move to Colorado. My parents have been making noise about buying property up here as an investment, and perhaps moving here to be near Ess (and us) when they retire. We introduced them to our neighbors a few days ago, with a little real estate matchmaking in mind. Should this all come to fruition (unlikely, but possible), I hope I do not one day look back on this week and ask myself what the hell I was thinking.
• If I do wonder what the hell I was thinking, I can blame it on the sleep deprivation, which continues in a major way. Last night, or rather this morning, at 3:30, it took me a looong time of patting, belly-rubbing and re-binkie-ing to get Ess back to sleep. When she woke at 5, the only way I could get her to sleep again was to snuggle her in the crook of my arm. And the same at 6:15.
• All of which means that the visit yesterday to the osteopath, which was supposed to help with both her digestion and her sleep, had absolutely zero effect. But then again, we may be asking too much of the osteopath, since the Wonder Weeks' description of the week 7 or 8 fussy phase reads like a biography of our child (who tomorrow will be 13 weeks, or 7 weeks if we take into account her prematurity). Shy with strangers? Check. Wanting to nurse frequently, but not taking much milk at all? Check. Clinging more tightly? Check. Sleeping poorly? Yes, indeedy. Crying and crying? Oh my yes. Last night she was absolutely inconsolable screaming for over an hour; we've been lucky enough thus far that it was truly unusual behavior. And the napping... oy. The 45-minute naps have now been reduced to 25 minutes.
• All of which means that Rocky's annual checkup and barrage of shots later this afternoon -- normally a somewhat trying affair, since our 10-pound princess fights like a grizzled heavyweight boxer when needles come near her -- should be even more, ummm, interesting with a 10.5 pound grump in the sling.