The Weekend.

So we survived the weekend, with our two-bedroom apartment filled with four adults, two infants and three dogs. And, you know, we did more than survive it. We had a great time. I was able to let go of the neat-freak, obsessive compulsive-cleaning demon that had taken over my body for the past three months and actually enjoy myself, mounds of clutter aside.

The couple that stayed with us was great. Jason met this guy months ago through a shared love of guitar gear and they've been talking on the phone every night since. Seriously. I felt like I'd been replaced for a while. I'd be like, "Jason, are you coming to bed?" And he'd be like, "In a little while. I'm gonna call Ryan first." And then he'd come to bed an hour or two later.

People might think we're crazy for inviting a couple we barely knew into our home. And maybe we were, a little bit. But it turned out that these people--both covered neck down in tattoos, natch--were among the nicest, most grounded, best parents I've met in years. Their daughter Riley had me laughing nonstop and made me even more excited about Adelyn's future.

The thing about that eleven-month-old that I didn't realize is that she doesn't stop. The weekend also kind of served as a baby-proofing seminar, because I've thought about that topic as much as I have about shaving my legs since Addy arrived which is, like, none.

If we were sitting at home in the living room, Riley was crawling to our entertainment center to pull out DVDs, one by one. If we were in the kitchen, she was crawling to the dog food bowls, eager to try one of the tasty morsels out. If we were at a restaurant, she was grabbing at the hot plates and drinks. If I was holding her, she was grabbing for my face--more specifically, my teeth, which she loved to inspect in detail. It requires constant, vigilant supervision. And Adelyn does, too, but her immobility means I can hold her while I brush my teeth, vacuum, or answer e-mails. Not so much when she's twenty-something pounds, wiggling out of my arms. But with that added responsibility comes a baby who giggles constantly, who gives her parents kisses and actual hugs, who strings together nonsensical sentences like "What're you doing? Hi! Yeah! Babble babble babble. Yeah!" every minute of the day. I can't wait.

And Adelyn. Oh, Adelyn. As her great aunt said yesterday at a family gathering for Jason's birthday, "At least we know her lungs are working. And her vocal chords will be fully developed." After what was probably the best day we've had in months--we took both the kids to lunch and to the zoo, and Adelyn didn't make a peep, did nothing but smile, all day long--she erupted into the most unconsolable fit yet at Jason's parents' house. Every time we have a family gathering she spends the entire time screaming. I spend most of the evening in a back room, trying to calm her down. Different family members take turns coming and trying to help. And eventually, defeated, we go home.

The word "colic" keeps popping up in my head. And I'm trying to beat it back down with a wooden stick. Because, I'll be honest, I sort of think colic is bullshit. I think it's sort of a way for doctors and parents stressed out of their minds to diagnose something nearly undiagnosable. We can't ask babies what's wrong, and if we can't figure it out ourselves, then we just throw "colic" at them and wait for the magical day when it stops.

I don't think Adelyn has these crying fits for no reason. I thought it was reflux, but that medicine is no longer having an effect.

Last night I decided we needed to try a new formula--we've been on Similac Advanced, pre-mixed, then switched to the powder, then back to the pre-mixed, then to Similiac Sensitive pre-mixed, then to the powder, then back to the pre-mixed, then back to the Advanced when her constipation got pretty bad, then back to the Sensitive RS when she kept throwing up all the time. Last night it hit me that I am an idiot and have only tried one brand of formula. I spent a few hours doing research and called my doctor this morning and we've decided to give Gerber Good Start a try. Supposedly it's easier to digest, and for babies with temperamental tummies (ie., Adelyn), it can work wonders.

I'll keep you all posted on how it goes. She gobbled up her first bottle of it this morning like a champ and has now been sleeping long enough for me to wash my face, eat breakfast and start the laundry, so I'm feeling a little hopeful about its effect.