Apparently, I do not have a temperamental girl. I do not have a fast eater who puts on weight miraculously. I do not have a colicky baby.  What I do have is an overactive milk letdown. The poor girl has been choking back too much foremilk and has been trying desperately to tell me. I finally got it, and that has made all the difference. I talked to a health nurse, and it was pretty clear to her what the problem was. Loads of weight gain? Super fast feeds? Lots of fussiness? Choking and gasping at the breast? All of this is not normal, apparently; it's my boobs making too much bloody milk. I took her off the breast when my milk was letting down to test this nurse's theory -- I was skeptical, I admit -- and it was a fire hose of milk spraying out. Gross, I know, but poor Rosemary has been trying to deal with all that milk. Aye carumba!
Now that she's not crying, she has more free time for things like staring into space, making cute chubby-cheeked faces, and hanging out in the bouncy chair with her bro. Yesterday, they watched Sesame Street together.

"Listen up, Rosemary. I'm going to share with you all my secrets to drive Mommy crazy.These are tried, foolproof methods. Trust me on these, and together we can rule this joint. Just stick with me, kid."

"Now time to put our evil plan into action! I'll distract Mommy, and you get your arms working, Rose! I need you to throw some food, STAT."

Also, Finn is the grand, old age of two. His b-day was low-key, but really, he didn't know what was happening anyway. He was just happy to have some cake. Okay, a lot of cake.
Yummy! Oh, and the cake looked good too.
Finn and I are both so relieved to have a little girl in our lives who doesn't cry all the freaking time. Because. That. Sucked. Ass. I feel for anyone who has a colicky baby. 

 No fun! 
More fun! With some proper feeds, she's a peaceful, sweet little girl who reminds me of her brother more and more each day.