Check it out on Health.com

The final chapter in the exciting story of Baby C's birth is live!

They didn't post the gory pictures (still available via e-mail if you ask, as many of you have!), but otherwise, it's all there.

Enjoy.

This girl's got talent!

If you pay close attention, you'll see Gigi scampering in the background, and hear Baby C's head popping off in the background.

You'll also hear a little riff on "Maybe" from "Annie."

I dreamed about a boat, adrift in the water, having been mostly burned but still floating. There was a bride aboard the boat. Totally alone, with no memory of what had happened.

This is what comes of sleeping next to a 6-week-old baby. And this is just a fraction of the novellas that spell themselves out in my head every night while I drift in and out of sleep. No wonder Stephenie Meyer wrote "Twilight" while raising little kids.

Lucky me, lucky me, look at what I'm drippin' with...

"Little Girls!"

I don't have much time to write these days, as I'm trying to keep the house reasonably neat and go to bed at the same time as Baby C, so I that won't be rattled by her 11pm and 3am wake-ups.

I'm thinking of abusing the swing. Specifically, if I put Baby C in her bed for her naps, she can sometimes wake up 15-25 times, needing her pacifier, or to be re-swaddled, or eschewing general unhappiness before she finally drifts off to sleep. But with the swing? Happy, blissful sleep every time. So why screw with it? It's not like she'll still have to be in the swing when she's 12 years old. And if she does? It fits in the trunk, I'll tote it to sleepovers.

Plus, instead of doing the whole "go to bed in your bassinette" game, where she wakes up and cries two dozen times before finally going to sleep, I can put her to sleep with the swing and a pacifier, then give her a "dream feed" where she barely wakes up at 7pm, THEN transfer her to her bassinette, where she just might drift off to sleep without all the drama.

The only hitch I see with this plan is our planned trip to Illinois in late September. What if she's still addicted to the swing? Well, I'm sure they sell them there.

Pass the D-batteries!

(Note: Yes, I'm using rechargable batteries. In case you thought I'd forgotten my pledge to Pete Seeger.)

Miss Hannigan was right

I sing this song every single day while I peel butterfly stickers off of my skin, sort out My Little Ponies and step on those awful tiny "claw" hairclips.

I love how Carol Burnett just belts it out.

I used to think she was SO MEAN, and now I totally, totally get it.

You knew Gigi loved Ronald Reagan, but seriously, she is SO PATRIOTIC.

Hub-D tried to point out that the crown doesn't really "go" with July 4, since the whole holiday is about thwarting royalty, but she wasn't having any of it.

Oh!

I finally know why I've been feeling so awful in the last few days, why I couldn't rouse myself from the chair, why every single joint in my body -- plus my incision -- ached incessantly.

I have mastitis! Duh.

I called Dr. W.'s office when the aching became terrible yesterday and I started spiking a fever, asking if it could be a side-effect of recovery from my C-section. The nurse was VERY NICE as she guided me toward the more logical conclusion. Hello, boob infection.

So now that I'm on antibiotics, I'm feeling much better, thank you very much.

Of course, and this is how awful I've become, my second thought was, "Oh phew! I was worried I wouldn't have anything to write about for Health.com anymore..."

Sorry July

We're all done. We've just had it. Each one of us had a certain amount of energy, and we spent it all in the month of June.

July, I'm so sorry, I've got nothing for you.

Tonight, every single one of the females in this household blew up simultaneously. Thank goodness Hub-D wasn't affected by the group swoon, and he held and smooched each one of us back into reasonable functionality.

But I bailed on him for our weekly "Yoga Date" and I am sitting here feeling like I never want to leave the house again. Nope, I never want to snap another little girl torso into another carseat and dare to leave the driveway again.

And on a weird note: Ever since my C-section, I've had recurrent aches all over my body. It's uncomfortable, but not badly so. I'm mostly just curious what this is. It started immediately following my surgery, and has, extremely slowly, been diminishing ever since. A side-effect of anesthesia? Tonight I wondered if it's because my body just misses Baby C. It's physical pining.

What is the proper age to expose your children to "The Empire Strikes Back?"

Sixteen months, of course!

Gigi loved Darth Vader a LOT and would cheer and raise her arms when he was on the screen.

I think she'd make a good Yoda for Halloween, yes?

I don't want to close my eyes! I don't want to fall asleep!

This song perfectly encapsulates Baby C's view of life. She just doesn't want to miss any of the action... she and I could stare at each other all day and all night. But then no one would get any sleep, which would be fine by her.

It's particularly tough for her to go to sleep at bedtime. It's as though she knows that for the next 12 hours, other than pitch dark feedings, there will be no sisters, no interesting things to stare at, no crazy mama songs. And she just doesn't want to let the day go.

So Baby C, this request goes out to you, not going gently into that goodnight...