Saturday, July 31, 2010

so much for family photos

I tried - I really did.

And god bless them - so did Punk and Kooka.

All we wanted was a snapshot:


Monday, July 26, 2010

introductions

We knew that they would be wonderful older siblings - a little sister who always wanted to be "big", and Punk had been good at it from the minute he met Kooka and said "gimmie that baby!"

What we didn't realize was how differently they would love her.  We knew they both would, and even had assumptions about what they would each bring to Yoda's table - but now we know for sure.

Kooka is precisely what we expected - what she told us he would be:  A mini-mother.  She loves giving Yoda her daily "makeovers"  - combing her hair, picking out her onsies, helping with baths.  She is always asking to carry the diaper bag, read a stories, put the bottles together.  Having Kooka is like having a third arm.  She dotes on her new sister every minute of the day.


Punk has been the real surprise.  We expected him to love this baby - he is so tender hearted, we just didn't realize how connected he would be.  Even when she is hungry, she calms to his voice, and the way he hums the "Star Wars" theme song to her. When we took her back to get weighed, the nurse told us she was still a bit underweight, and he immediately looked up, before Rico or I could respond and said, "should we be concerned?"  When I rock her, he watches from across the room until I ask if he wants a turn.  He always says the same thing, "I want to hold her as much as I can."

Yoda is luckiest little girl in the world. She has an extended family that reaches coast to coast, and snuggled up next to her she has a sister who is so eager to teach her about the world, and a brother who wants to understand hers. 

They can't wait for you to meet her too:

Friday, July 23, 2010

Nika


Nika

Sorry the picture is tipped - still at the hospital.  We'll do things properly when we get home.  Thanks so much for all of the looove.

7/21/2010

Baby Yoda is finally here.  We'll post a pic when we can (or when the percoset wears off) - but in the meantime . . .

Her name is Nika.

Kooka says she is "adorable."
Punk says she is "sooo cute."
Her daddy thinks she is "perfect,"
and even Uncle Devin declared her "not bad for a baby."

As for her mommy - I think she is absolutely wonderful.  She looks exactly like her daddy, and thus far has her big brother's mellow personality, and her big sister's serious eyes. 

Stay tuned for further adventures . . . .

Monday, July 19, 2010

36 hours

The surgical center called yesterday.
Apparently they just like to check in, make sure you are actually going to show up, and give you your final marching orders.

Here are mine - and the answers the receptionist gave me when I asked why - I needed to do all of these things.  (not kidding - real answers)


1) Show up at 5 am.
Why so early?
"Because your insurance company will kick you out as soon as they can, and this is the best way to make sure you and your baby actually get an extra day of care - which you might desperately need."

2) Bring a bag full of everything you will need for your surgery.
Really?  Everything?  Because I just don't have access to everything I might need for surgery.  I do however have a boxcutter, and the rest of that vicodin you guys tried to cram down my throat last week.  I can bring that.
"Yeah - I really just meant like chapstick, and a clean shirt."
Whew.

3)Do not eat or drink anything after midnight on Tuesday.
Why is that again?
"Because you will probably vomit - a lot."

4) Do not have any gum or chewing tobacco that morning.
Crap - because it is going to be really tough for me to not have a chew that morning.  I can still wear my daisy dukes, and bring my moonshine to celebrate later right? 
"Because, there is always a chance that you might need a trach, or need to be intubated, and we don't want gum to clog the pipe."
Intubated?! I'm only going to be paralyzed from the ribs down! Why do we need to plan that far ahead?  Next thing you're going to tell me is that I may spontaneously combust on the table.

Which brings us to:


5) Do not wear any perfume or hairspray. Regular makeup is OK though.
What is this rule about?
"Well they do have cautering equipment in the surgical room, and a bone saw.  There is a possibility of sparks."
Waaaaaaiiiit one freaking minute . . . . If there is any - I mean annnnyyy possibility that I am going to be sawed in half, while simultaneously catching on fire, all the while surrounded by supposedly competent medical personnel,  then we need another plan.  
If there is even a remote chance that a trace amount of Ralph Lauren on my wrists, is putting Yoda and I in danger of going up in flames, then there must be another option.

Nope - this is pretty much it.

Wish us luck.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

just one more reason

I love this kid.

Sometimes Punk's comics, are just really well drawn lego battles. Sometimes they are mildly amusing - and sometimes they crack me up - like this one from last week:

to nook or not to nook

THAT is the question.

I have hated these things since they were invented - Nook, Kindle, whatever - those portable libraries - the wave of the future. When the lady at Barnes and Noble asked me what I thought of the nook - I told her that they repulse me and that I would really like to burn down that little Nook kiosk she was standing in. Thankfully I knew this woman and wasn't arrested on the spot - but, still, you get the idea.

Give me a plain old book any day - the smell of fresh ink, the texture of paper beneath my fingers, the simplicity of holding something in my hand that requires no batteries.  I loooooooove books.

Which makes the rest of this story a bit ironic .  .

It starts on Tuesday,  but since you're here I'll assume you have the time . . .

I woke the whole family up at 3:30 am .  I knew the baby was not coming, but knew something was off, and I had to get to the hospital - the real hospital - an hour away.  The pain was unbearable, and after an ultrasound, two blood tests, steadily dropping blood pressure and 6 hours in the OB, I was drugged up and sent home.  Three vicodin, and three vistaril - against my better judgment mind you.   Rico was in the room. I do have a witness.  I know he heard me say,  "Wow - that's a lot. Why do I need so much?"

But the medical professionals insisted that it would be safe, and insisted I should take it.  They even sent me home with a prescription for lots more.

Needless to say, I didn't wake up for about 24 hours.  And when I did, it was pretty hard to breathe.

Which landed me back in doctor's office - where she immediately told Rico to hide the drugs.  Hide them - that's what she said - like I had big plans to meet Rush Limbaugh and Matthew Perry back in my laundry room for our next hit.  Like I was tossing back fistfuls of the stuff - like getting stoned was my idea.

In addition, she put me on house arrest until next Wednesday, when Yoda's scheduled to arrive.  I can leave the house - but not alone, and not for long. Furthermore, when I am home - I am supposed to do nothing - riiiiiiiiight.

Which leads me to the nook.  I was complaining to Rico (for like the third day straight - the man is a saint) - telling him I could not possibly just sit for 7 days. And he is driving, trying hard not to make eye contact, when he says, "Welllll, if you want, we could just stop and get your baby present early - that would help."

"Pardon me? What are you talking about?"

"I was going to get you a nook - when the baby was born - a baby gift, but maybe you could use it more now."

'Why were you going to buy that? I hate those things."

"I know - but I think you'd secretly love it."

Damn it.
He knows me too well.  Because despite my public protests.  Despite everything I can't stand about those stupid things - I had been starting to see their benefits, like:  just having one book on my nightstand instead of 9; being able to browse books 24/7 - even when the stores and libraries are closed;  and never - ever running out of things to read.  Not to mention the environmental guilt I often felt at buying a 437 page book for a one-time read. I knew these stupid things had their good points, even though I was loathe to admit it.

Rico was still not making eye contact with me.  I think he was actually there when I threatened arson on the Burnsville Barnes and Noble - and he's astute enough to notice that my drug induced stupor was certainly not increasing my mental stability.  (I spent the better part of the day, crying, screaming, hyperventilating, or staring glassy eyed at the blades on the ceiling fan.  It's a wonder I got a complete sentence out at all.)

"I'll trrrrryyyyyy" it,"  I said.

So for $139 (plus protective cover),  he hooked me up.

And the verdict   . . .

I hate that I like it - but I do.  I still miss the ink, the paper, the feel of a book in my hand, but so far the trade off has been worth it - especially since I am trapped in the house regardless.  There are almost 1 million free books to choose from, and I can't even count how many more.  You can read before you buy, lend your books for up to 14 days, and never have tote around 487 pages of anything.  It bookmarks the spot where you stopped reading - even if you fall asleep (like I always do), lets you highlight things, and subscribe to magazines.

I have 14 days to try it out - and I may snap back to my senses in a fortnight, but for now, I am sticking with it - just don't tell Punk.  He was busy nodding his head, and planning which accellerant to use on that kiosk.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

child rearing

In about two weeks, we will be a family of 5. 

It seems like we are ready, but it's hard to tell these days.

Rico never sat in a car seat.  I never had a baby gate when I was small.  Even my own kids had drop-side cribs - which they don't even sell anymore.  Like we don't worry enough - like we need this ever-changing array of safety issues.

Now they sell cloth covers for the seats in shopping carts.  I am not sure how that will protect the child when I, with my bare hands remove her from the cart.  How sanitary can I be after loading my own groceries from the same conveyor belt just used by the family of six purchasing 4 liters of 7-up, a pallet of saltines and a case of Pepto Bismol?

A baby first aid kit comes with four different thermometers - a specific one for each area of the body.  The caveat is that a fever is defined differently for each orifice.  So by the time I master the algebraic equation of converting an armpit temperature, to a forehead temperature, to an oral temperature, then take into account the baby's age, relative to the atmospheric dewpoint,  my kid will either be comatose, or OD-ing on infant Motrin.

But the most disturbing piece of safety equipment by far is a contraption designed to keep your baby sleeping on her back.  It's basically a velcro onesie.  The point is to wrap your baby in the enclosed velcro jammies, and then attach her to the fuzzy crib sheet so she can't move all night.  I don't know how I feel about this - I mean, steel handcuffs and manacles would serve the same purpose, are easy to clean, long lasting, hypo-allergenic, and quite frankly cheaper than the $60 they were asking for the velcro straightjacket.

Two more weeks and we can start worrying again for real.  But for now, all I can hope, is that I keep hearing advice like this:

"The baby will talk when he talks, relax. It ain't like he knows the cure for cancer and he just ain't spitting it out."  from smds

Monday, July 5, 2010

the 5th

The fourth of July was good to us.

Punk is on the mend. Rico's good friend's from Florida came to join us. Kooka got her room rearranged "just the way she likes it." Our flag cake turned out just right.


But now it is the 5th, and Punk and I are a little bummed out.  He is supposed to be at theater camp.  I am supposed to be teaching.  Neither of those things will happen - mostly due to a little virus, and the fact that Yoda's due date was moved up a week.  Camp was cancelled.

Thankfully - we have Yoda to look forward to.