$7,947.12Nursing: $0
knowing that I have at least 12 years before my child becomes a hoodlum: priceless.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
FYI
if you're squeamish, you might want to have someone else screen the monster post so you know which paragraphs to avoid...
one monster of a post
Ethan Patrick
Born: July 12, 2006 at 8:45 a.m.
20.5 long, 8 lbs, 5.5 oz.
Even though I wasn’t supposed to deliver until July 20, I’d had signs for several weeks that labor was not necessarily imminent, but steadily approaching. I lost my mucus plug a couple of weeks prior to delivery, I was dilating and effacing steadily at each doctor’s appointment (1 cm and 50% at 36 weeks), taking evening primrose oil for the last week or so before the birth, and using an exercise ball a lot to help tone my muscles and prepare for labor. My mother had planned to arrive less than a week before my due date and stay for awhile afterwards, and she felt sure that I would be “late” like she’d been for all three of her births. Everyone else thought I’d be early. Dan was especially anxious for me to go into labor as he was rapidly tiring of going to work every evening at 8:30. Since we were moving so soon after my due date, I really did not have much preparation to do. Once the basinet was in place, the dresser stocked, and the diapers washed, there was nothing left to do but clean my house thoroughly every week and type up my birth plan for my doctor to sign at my 37 week appointment. Dan and I went to one birth class at the hospital, where I learned that hospital policy was continuous monitoring, and I might convince them to do only 20 minutes on my back on the bed each hour, but not to get my hopes up. I learned all about the security measures and had most of my policy questions answered. We didn’t end up going to the next two classes, since I decided we were way too smart to need them (insert rolling eyes) and Ethan was here the day before the final class.
When it seemed clear that I would certainly not be delivering late, I was finally able to convince my mother to change her plans and arrived on the coast on July 9. On the 11th, my birthday, we drove an hour west to New Orleans so that she could see–in her words–devastation. 
We walked for about 3 hours in the hot, humid Louisiana sun admiring houses and sweating. We had beignettes at a little pastry shop right next to the NO police headquarters
, and admired one of the cats that they apparently feed every day, and we talked with a very nice man (about Grandpa M's age) who asked if he could pray for us. We also were accused, I think--of being gay while walking briskly through the shady section of Bourbon street, but that's another story. 
Yes, Brenda, I wore plenty of sunscreen. I was experiencing pretty regular Braxton-Hickswere also accused--I contractions all day, but was unconcerned since I’d been noticing those since about 36 weeks (they became regular around 38 weeks).
When we got back to our single-wide trailer on base, my husband made a joke about me going into labor that night. The idea sounded great to me, so I decided to make a castor oil shake that would either clean me out really well, jump-start labor, or both. Dan went to work that night at about 8:30 with the assurance–as with every night for the past two weeks–that I would call if I needed him. I visited the throne room every hour on the hour from the time I drank the shake at 5:00 pm on July 11 until 12:00 (midnight). I felt fine physically this entire time, but decided early on that I really needed to purchase softer toilet paper if I was ever going to try that particular labor-inducing trick again.
When I went to the bathroom at 12:30, I realized my water had broken. There was no “pop” or “gush”, but a definite steady trickle that continued for the next 4 hours or so. I attempted to go to bed and rest, but sitting on the exercise ball and resting my head on my arms against the bed soon proved to be more comfortable. My mother went to bed around midnight, so from then until about 1:30 I relaxed and let my body do its thing. I didn’t time my contractions because I’d been having regular BH for the past couple of weeks and remained unconvinced that these were any different. I called Dan, apprised him of the situation, and then called the on-call nurse at BRMC to inform the staff that my water had broken and see how long I could wait before coming in. A nurse with an English accent answered the phone, and said that once my water had broken, I needed to go to the hospital ASAP. Knowing that once I arrived there would only be a 24 hour window before my doctor would start pushing for a quick delivery, I decided to page the on-call doctor and see if his advice was any different. His opinion? “Go to the hospital. NOW,” so I called Dan back and he headed home. We puttered around the house for 2 hours, making sure that the bag was fully packed and letting my mother take a shower. I ate a bowl of cheerios to make sure that I’d have enough energy for labor. We left for the hospital around 4 am. Just as we were approaching a spot in the road where we’d seen a car stuck in the sand earlier that week, I informed Dan that he needed to pull over so that I could puke. He replied that it would be quite inconvenient for us to get stuck, and so I had to wait until there was an open area for him to pull off. Cheerios don’t taste very good coming back up, in case there was ever any question.
We arrived at the hospital’s ER entrance (the only open door that early in the morning) and I was whisked in a wheelchair to the labor and delivery wing on the third floor. When I was checked the first time around 5 am, I was at 4.5 cm. dilated and 100% effaced. The nurse who was with me for most of my labor turned out to be the same British lady I’d talked to on the phone a few hours earlier. She mentioned that she had been a midwife in England prior to coming to the states, and it was nice to see someone doing it “the way I’m used to” (i.e. no pain meds or excess/unnecessary medical intervention). I labored for a bit on the exercise ball, and walked around through a few contractions, but quickly found that I was most comfortable in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.
It was a little high for me, but I could shut the door and close my eyes and not let myself get distracted, which I think kept my labor from stalling. My mother parked herself in a rocking chair between the bed and the bathroom, and chatted with Dan and the nurse, and in general tried to stay out of my way so that I wouldn’t kick her out. Apparently at one point she opened the door to watch me, and I didn’t have the nicest reaction:
“what are you doing?”
“Watching you...”
“well stop.”
My mother also took some pretty good notes the whole time (which VGN #2 asked to see when writing up her final report of the birth). I had a pretty regular contraction pattern for most of the next couple of hours, wherein every other contraction would be pretty big. At no time at all did I feel out of control, which also really helped things progress. At 5:45 I was 7 cm and +1 station, an hour later I was 9 cm and +2 station. The nurse checked the baby periodically with the fetal doppler, but let me labor on my own the majority of the time. The British nurse’s shift ended at seven, but she ended up staying quite a bit longer in the hopes that she’d see me deliver.
The second nurse that came in was equally wonderful; she even read my birth plan while sitting cross legged in front of me while I squatted on the floor so that she could fully understand my goals. (I tried to tell her that we were already past the point of relevance for most of that plan, but she insisted. How sweet) My body started pushing shortly after seven, but I did not consciously help at all, because I’d heard bad things about pushing before being fully dilated..
When Dr. J arrived around seven thirty, he found me still laboring primarily in the bathroom. He checked me and said that I was fully dilated, he was going to assist another doctor in a surgery, and to “let me know when you hear a splash.” Dan said, “sweet, let me know when you’re off break....” I moved back to squat on the floor not too long after that, thinking I could lean on Dan’s legs and it would be a lot easier for the doctors and nurses if I was on the floor as opposed to the toilet.
After about half an hour, I decided that my legs were going to really be sore in the morning if I stayed in that position (turns out they were fine), so I moved back to the bathroom. I decided to check to see if I could feel the baby’s head myself, and discovered a whole new meaning to the phrase “it’s right there.” The nurse tried to check also, and told me to keep pushing, but I quickly informed her that “can’t push with your fingers there...it’s weird.” Two stools were obtained to elevate my feet, and I began really concentrating on pushing with each contraction. At 8:40 or so I felt what I’ve heard described as the “ring of fire” and commented on that to the nurse. She checked me herself, and immediately pulled the emergency call cord hanging next to the toilet. My eyes were closed all this time, but apparently several nurses came in and started getting things ready, and Dr. J almost shoved the tool table into my mother to get to me in time. He helped me stretch a bit and I heard Dan say, “There’s the head It’s really right there ” which surprised me because I had thought he [Dan} would keep his eyes glued on mine the entire time. Dr. J suctioned Ethan’s nose and mouth and delivered the rest of his body very quickly and placed him on my stomach.
After the cord stopped pulsing, he clamped it and asked Dan if he wanted to cut the cord (and basically handed him the scissors), and I carried Ethan from the bathroom to the bed. I was able to hold Ethan, clean him up a bit, and let him experiment with nursing while the doctor helped me deliver the placenta. After they took the kid to get cleaned up and checked out, I received a few small internal stitches, was cleaned up, and served a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and a biscuit. I ate the biscuit and some of the eggs, Dan ate the bacon and walked over to the nursery to visit Ethan while he was in the warmer for a few minutes. My mother helped the nurse and I move everything to the recovery room (aka prison), and Dan and I took a much needed hour long nap. 
Ethan was returned to me after only 2 hours in the warmer so that we could practice nursing again, and didn’t end up going back to the nursery for any big length of time from then on (yay I’d been told it would be a mandatory 4 hour wait, and that he wouldn’t be able to stay with me at night if everyone in the room was asleep). 
Dan crashed on the bed and slept for the next 6 hours while my mother and I relived the events of the morning and admired my squished baby’s head (the rest of him was wrapped up in the blanket most of the time since the hospital was pretty chilly).
The pediatrician on call decided that we should be able to go home after a 24 hour observation period, so Ethan was circumcised that evening. Dan and my mother went home to recoup, and I stayed at the hospital. When Dan came back the next morning to pick me up, we learned that the pediatrician on call (a different one from the day before) had decided that he wanted us to wait the customary 48 hours before he was comfortable discharging us. I remained at the hospital as a guest (no vitals and no food...except the food lady felt sorry for me and gave me meals anyway), and we left the hospital bright and early on the 13th.
On the 14th, we took the baby to get his blood tested, and it was decided that a “bili bed” would be delivered that evening to ward off the jaundice that I think was already on its way out of his system. He stayed in that for a couple of nights, and the blood test taken two days later was much more appropriate. My mother stayed until the following weekend, driving me around, changing diapers, and trying to claim the “first smile” award. At one month PP, Ethan weighs in at just over 10 pounds, and I am back into almost every pair of pre-baby jeans. The stretch marks (which didn’t appear until after the baby was already out... I swear!) are fading, and I am once again exercising somewhat regularly. Nursing is going wonderfully, and like they say, all’s well that ends well :)
Born: July 12, 2006 at 8:45 a.m.
20.5 long, 8 lbs, 5.5 oz.
Even though I wasn’t supposed to deliver until July 20, I’d had signs for several weeks that labor was not necessarily imminent, but steadily approaching. I lost my mucus plug a couple of weeks prior to delivery, I was dilating and effacing steadily at each doctor’s appointment (1 cm and 50% at 36 weeks), taking evening primrose oil for the last week or so before the birth, and using an exercise ball a lot to help tone my muscles and prepare for labor. My mother had planned to arrive less than a week before my due date and stay for awhile afterwards, and she felt sure that I would be “late” like she’d been for all three of her births. Everyone else thought I’d be early. Dan was especially anxious for me to go into labor as he was rapidly tiring of going to work every evening at 8:30. Since we were moving so soon after my due date, I really did not have much preparation to do. Once the basinet was in place, the dresser stocked, and the diapers washed, there was nothing left to do but clean my house thoroughly every week and type up my birth plan for my doctor to sign at my 37 week appointment. Dan and I went to one birth class at the hospital, where I learned that hospital policy was continuous monitoring, and I might convince them to do only 20 minutes on my back on the bed each hour, but not to get my hopes up. I learned all about the security measures and had most of my policy questions answered. We didn’t end up going to the next two classes, since I decided we were way too smart to need them (insert rolling eyes) and Ethan was here the day before the final class.
When it seemed clear that I would certainly not be delivering late, I was finally able to convince my mother to change her plans and arrived on the coast on July 9. On the 11th, my birthday, we drove an hour west to New Orleans so that she could see–in her words–devastation. 
We walked for about 3 hours in the hot, humid Louisiana sun admiring houses and sweating. We had beignettes at a little pastry shop right next to the NO police headquarters
, and admired one of the cats that they apparently feed every day, and we talked with a very nice man (about Grandpa M's age) who asked if he could pray for us. We also were accused, I think--of being gay while walking briskly through the shady section of Bourbon street, but that's another story. 
Yes, Brenda, I wore plenty of sunscreen. I was experiencing pretty regular Braxton-Hickswere also accused--I contractions all day, but was unconcerned since I’d been noticing those since about 36 weeks (they became regular around 38 weeks).When we got back to our single-wide trailer on base, my husband made a joke about me going into labor that night. The idea sounded great to me, so I decided to make a castor oil shake that would either clean me out really well, jump-start labor, or both. Dan went to work that night at about 8:30 with the assurance–as with every night for the past two weeks–that I would call if I needed him. I visited the throne room every hour on the hour from the time I drank the shake at 5:00 pm on July 11 until 12:00 (midnight). I felt fine physically this entire time, but decided early on that I really needed to purchase softer toilet paper if I was ever going to try that particular labor-inducing trick again.
When I went to the bathroom at 12:30, I realized my water had broken. There was no “pop” or “gush”, but a definite steady trickle that continued for the next 4 hours or so. I attempted to go to bed and rest, but sitting on the exercise ball and resting my head on my arms against the bed soon proved to be more comfortable. My mother went to bed around midnight, so from then until about 1:30 I relaxed and let my body do its thing. I didn’t time my contractions because I’d been having regular BH for the past couple of weeks and remained unconvinced that these were any different. I called Dan, apprised him of the situation, and then called the on-call nurse at BRMC to inform the staff that my water had broken and see how long I could wait before coming in. A nurse with an English accent answered the phone, and said that once my water had broken, I needed to go to the hospital ASAP. Knowing that once I arrived there would only be a 24 hour window before my doctor would start pushing for a quick delivery, I decided to page the on-call doctor and see if his advice was any different. His opinion? “Go to the hospital. NOW,” so I called Dan back and he headed home. We puttered around the house for 2 hours, making sure that the bag was fully packed and letting my mother take a shower. I ate a bowl of cheerios to make sure that I’d have enough energy for labor. We left for the hospital around 4 am. Just as we were approaching a spot in the road where we’d seen a car stuck in the sand earlier that week, I informed Dan that he needed to pull over so that I could puke. He replied that it would be quite inconvenient for us to get stuck, and so I had to wait until there was an open area for him to pull off. Cheerios don’t taste very good coming back up, in case there was ever any question.
We arrived at the hospital’s ER entrance (the only open door that early in the morning) and I was whisked in a wheelchair to the labor and delivery wing on the third floor. When I was checked the first time around 5 am, I was at 4.5 cm. dilated and 100% effaced. The nurse who was with me for most of my labor turned out to be the same British lady I’d talked to on the phone a few hours earlier. She mentioned that she had been a midwife in England prior to coming to the states, and it was nice to see someone doing it “the way I’m used to” (i.e. no pain meds or excess/unnecessary medical intervention). I labored for a bit on the exercise ball, and walked around through a few contractions, but quickly found that I was most comfortable in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.
It was a little high for me, but I could shut the door and close my eyes and not let myself get distracted, which I think kept my labor from stalling. My mother parked herself in a rocking chair between the bed and the bathroom, and chatted with Dan and the nurse, and in general tried to stay out of my way so that I wouldn’t kick her out. Apparently at one point she opened the door to watch me, and I didn’t have the nicest reaction:“what are you doing?”
“Watching you...”
“well stop.”
My mother also took some pretty good notes the whole time (which VGN #2 asked to see when writing up her final report of the birth). I had a pretty regular contraction pattern for most of the next couple of hours, wherein every other contraction would be pretty big. At no time at all did I feel out of control, which also really helped things progress. At 5:45 I was 7 cm and +1 station, an hour later I was 9 cm and +2 station. The nurse checked the baby periodically with the fetal doppler, but let me labor on my own the majority of the time. The British nurse’s shift ended at seven, but she ended up staying quite a bit longer in the hopes that she’d see me deliver.
The second nurse that came in was equally wonderful; she even read my birth plan while sitting cross legged in front of me while I squatted on the floor so that she could fully understand my goals. (I tried to tell her that we were already past the point of relevance for most of that plan, but she insisted. How sweet) My body started pushing shortly after seven, but I did not consciously help at all, because I’d heard bad things about pushing before being fully dilated..
When Dr. J arrived around seven thirty, he found me still laboring primarily in the bathroom. He checked me and said that I was fully dilated, he was going to assist another doctor in a surgery, and to “let me know when you hear a splash.” Dan said, “sweet, let me know when you’re off break....” I moved back to squat on the floor not too long after that, thinking I could lean on Dan’s legs and it would be a lot easier for the doctors and nurses if I was on the floor as opposed to the toilet.
After about half an hour, I decided that my legs were going to really be sore in the morning if I stayed in that position (turns out they were fine), so I moved back to the bathroom. I decided to check to see if I could feel the baby’s head myself, and discovered a whole new meaning to the phrase “it’s right there.” The nurse tried to check also, and told me to keep pushing, but I quickly informed her that “can’t push with your fingers there...it’s weird.” Two stools were obtained to elevate my feet, and I began really concentrating on pushing with each contraction. At 8:40 or so I felt what I’ve heard described as the “ring of fire” and commented on that to the nurse. She checked me herself, and immediately pulled the emergency call cord hanging next to the toilet. My eyes were closed all this time, but apparently several nurses came in and started getting things ready, and Dr. J almost shoved the tool table into my mother to get to me in time. He helped me stretch a bit and I heard Dan say, “There’s the head It’s really right there ” which surprised me because I had thought he [Dan} would keep his eyes glued on mine the entire time. Dr. J suctioned Ethan’s nose and mouth and delivered the rest of his body very quickly and placed him on my stomach.
After the cord stopped pulsing, he clamped it and asked Dan if he wanted to cut the cord (and basically handed him the scissors), and I carried Ethan from the bathroom to the bed. I was able to hold Ethan, clean him up a bit, and let him experiment with nursing while the doctor helped me deliver the placenta. After they took the kid to get cleaned up and checked out, I received a few small internal stitches, was cleaned up, and served a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and a biscuit. I ate the biscuit and some of the eggs, Dan ate the bacon and walked over to the nursery to visit Ethan while he was in the warmer for a few minutes. My mother helped the nurse and I move everything to the recovery room (aka prison), and Dan and I took a much needed hour long nap. 
Ethan was returned to me after only 2 hours in the warmer so that we could practice nursing again, and didn’t end up going back to the nursery for any big length of time from then on (yay I’d been told it would be a mandatory 4 hour wait, and that he wouldn’t be able to stay with me at night if everyone in the room was asleep). 
Dan crashed on the bed and slept for the next 6 hours while my mother and I relived the events of the morning and admired my squished baby’s head (the rest of him was wrapped up in the blanket most of the time since the hospital was pretty chilly).The pediatrician on call decided that we should be able to go home after a 24 hour observation period, so Ethan was circumcised that evening. Dan and my mother went home to recoup, and I stayed at the hospital. When Dan came back the next morning to pick me up, we learned that the pediatrician on call (a different one from the day before) had decided that he wanted us to wait the customary 48 hours before he was comfortable discharging us. I remained at the hospital as a guest (no vitals and no food...except the food lady felt sorry for me and gave me meals anyway), and we left the hospital bright and early on the 13th.
On the 14th, we took the baby to get his blood tested, and it was decided that a “bili bed” would be delivered that evening to ward off the jaundice that I think was already on its way out of his system. He stayed in that for a couple of nights, and the blood test taken two days later was much more appropriate. My mother stayed until the following weekend, driving me around, changing diapers, and trying to claim the “first smile” award. At one month PP, Ethan weighs in at just over 10 pounds, and I am back into almost every pair of pre-baby jeans. The stretch marks (which didn’t appear until after the baby was already out... I swear!) are fading, and I am once again exercising somewhat regularly. Nursing is going wonderfully, and like they say, all’s well that ends well :)
Friday, August 04, 2006
what happens when daddy messes with baby:
I won't show you what happens when mommy messes with baby. Think back to that one pic of him at the unit and you've got the idea. He does smile at me when I feed him or take off his diaper though* :)
Oh, and here's an upright face shot for those of you still looking for similarities. you can almost see the dimples, and check out the orange fuzz:
*granted, this is usually because he's about to either burp, explosively poo, or pee all over...
Oh, and here's an upright face shot for those of you still looking for similarities. you can almost see the dimples, and check out the orange fuzz:
*granted, this is usually because he's about to either burp, explosively poo, or pee all over...
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Free Cat
Reply to: pers-187411098@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-28, 12:11PM PDT
You pick up. Will delete when gone.
- no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
 |
*********************************
yes, I know it's terrible. But you have to admit it's kinda funny too...
Friday, July 28, 2006
first bath 7.22.06
Unsuspecting baby and his mother (who is amazed at the positions this kid is able to sleep comfortably in):
very comfortable
not quite so sure anymore
really not enjoying life
milk makes it all better
his daddy sleeps just like this
very comfortable
not quite so sure anymore
really not enjoying life
milk makes it all better
his daddy sleeps just like this
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Here's some pictures for you junkies
practicing the "cool guy" wave
[this picture has been deleted because its presence is required elsewhere]
sweet hoodie
say "Thanks Granny Boo"
ok, that's it for now I hope none of these are repeats 'cause I didn't bother to look ahead of time. I am going to bed now, maybe I will be able to find more pictures later.
P.S. keep harrassing my wife about her birth story, I find it funny.
Friday, July 21, 2006
coffee, anyone?
watery instant:
Walked around NO for three hours on 7/11,
drank castor oil shake at 5:00 pm.
Water broke around 12:30, D home from work around 2, arrived at hospital at 5 (4-5 cm, 100%).
Fully dilated around 7, started pushing around 8.
Doc came in at 8:40, delivered at 8:45 am on July 12, 2006.
Ethan Patrick was 20.5 long, 8 lbs, 5.5 oz, 9's on Apgars.
A few tiny internal stitches, no meds, fluids, etc.
Quick and manageable.
Was ready to go home at 4 hours PP, ended up having to stay 48 hrs "just in case."
Had to use a bili bed (tanning bed for yellow babies) for a couple of nights(overkill but whatever), all good now.
spectacular slow roast is still in the works...I'm on p. 5...you can stop rolling your eyes now...
Walked around NO for three hours on 7/11,
drank castor oil shake at 5:00 pm.
Water broke around 12:30, D home from work around 2, arrived at hospital at 5 (4-5 cm, 100%).
Fully dilated around 7, started pushing around 8.
Doc came in at 8:40, delivered at 8:45 am on July 12, 2006.
Ethan Patrick was 20.5 long, 8 lbs, 5.5 oz, 9's on Apgars.
A few tiny internal stitches, no meds, fluids, etc.
Quick and manageable.
Was ready to go home at 4 hours PP, ended up having to stay 48 hrs "just in case."
Had to use a bili bed (tanning bed for yellow babies) for a couple of nights(overkill but whatever), all good now.
spectacular slow roast is still in the works...I'm on p. 5...you can stop rolling your eyes now...
yesterday
What's a day without a trip to the unit? And of course, once we're there we can't just do the one thing we came to do, we must also look in boxes and sweat and lose all ability to string two coherant thoughts together. The baby did great...well, for the most part:
We also visited the tent and saw some people and walked on the beach and ate ice cream. Then we came home and went to bed.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
Have you seen this nose?
Wondering where we've seen this nose "style" has been one of the random questions we've been asking.
Also overheard:
Has he had a wet diaper yet? (no)
What does that face mean?
Look, I think he smiled at me. (ie, he likes me best)
Does he have all his parts (toes, etc.)? (no one counted for about 12 hours)
Innie or Outie? (tba)
Did you hear about the mom that delivered---oh yes, haven't told the birth story yet.
VGD
This is the doc that said - oops, haven't told the birth story yet. I will mention that he said on his way out last night (7/13) "well, I could have prescribed motrin for you but you won't take it anyway!" Imagine those words said very Southern Gentleman and with a big smile. He likes Emily and has a pretty good fix on what level/type of care she is expecting.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Snapshots from 7-12-06
Mississippi Time :)
5:55 am
8:51 am
9:23 am
11:58 am also - baby just taken off warmer, got his new blue t-shirt, ready to get his picture taken.
11:58 am (they don't know the baby has just been taken off the warmer 2 hours early and is on his way)
12:54 pm VGN#2 (hopefully we can get a pic of VGN#1 but it might be too late)
3:52 pm (but typical of the day)
5:26 pm (doesn't know he's about to get circ'd)
*VGN=very good nurse
probably should take a pic of the VGD's also.
5:55 am
8:51 am
9:23 am
11:58 am also - baby just taken off warmer, got his new blue t-shirt, ready to get his picture taken.
11:58 am (they don't know the baby has just been taken off the warmer 2 hours early and is on his way)
12:54 pm VGN#2 (hopefully we can get a pic of VGN#1 but it might be too late)
3:52 pm (but typical of the day)
5:26 pm (doesn't know he's about to get circ'd)
*VGN=very good nurse
probably should take a pic of the VGD's also.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
9 hours old or so
I have a "few" more pictures but I need to do some cropping and editing. I had the camera set on the wrong setting most of the time. Unbelievable.
Emily did FANTASTIC. The entire staff was extremely impressed. She got some special favors, if you call being very close by when your kid's circumcision is done "special". She'll be coming home tomorrow am and we'll get together to tell the birth story and eventually some about New Orleans (we went walking on 7-11, E's birthday, to "get things going". Guess that a 1 billion degree day in NO is a sure bet for labor.)
New Arrival
This baby just begs to be kissed!
Ethan Patrick. Born at 9:45 this morning, weighing 8 lbs 5.5 oz, mommy says he is perfect in every way... I would say she is a little biased, but, I have the same opinion. Might have something to do with being the aunt, but I personally don't think so. ;)
Ethan Patrick. Born at 9:45 this morning, weighing 8 lbs 5.5 oz, mommy says he is perfect in every way... I would say she is a little biased, but, I have the same opinion. Might have something to do with being the aunt, but I personally don't think so. ;)
Saturday, July 08, 2006
surviving the third trimester
I have a free subscription to babytalk magazine [actually, I have two. apparently I filled out two little cards at two different times. oops.], and this article in the dec/jan issue really amused me even though at the time I was barely showing. Now that it all rings true, I decided it was time to share:
Surviving Your Third Trimester
The all-new, indispensable instruction manual
By Melissa Balmain
Surviving Your Third Trimester
The all-new, indispensable instruction manual
By Melissa Balmain
How to sit down in a restaurant
1) Request a table.
2) Receive a booth.
3) Try to slide your enormous bulk into booth.
4) Note with alarm it's the sort of booth where table is bolted down.
5) Lift belly as high as it will go.
6) Inch your way into booth.
7) Release belly, which lands on table with a plop.
8) Rummage beneath belly for silverware and napkin.
9) Place silverware and napkin on belly, and ask waiter to just put your food there too.
How to put on a seat belt
1) Reach blindly beneath your gut, hoping to locate both ends of seat belt.
2) Find one end.
3) Use elbow to push poor, unsuspecting fetus to one side while you find other end.
4) Exhale fully and attempt to close belt.
5) No dice.
6) Let out belt until long enough to fit an elephant seal.
7) Close and tighten belt.
8) To avoid repeating, spend day in car.
How to avoid unhealthy snacks
1) Retrieve chocolate cake from fridge.
2) Close fridge door while reaching behind you to put cake on kitchen counter.
3) Lose balance and flail about like cartoon penguin.
4) Drop cake.
5) Scrape cake from floor, intending to eat it anyway.
6) Notice frosting is now embroidered with dust bunnies.
7) Sigh and throw cake away.
How to use a public bathroom
1) Attempt to cram self into stall.
2) Repeatedly get stuck between door and toilet.
3) Exit stall.
4) See that handicapped stall is free.
5) Glance around furtively.
6) Conclude that being in third trimester counts as handicap.
7) Dash into handicapped stall.
8) Do your business.
9) Discover toilet-paper dispenser is empty.
10) Shout for help.
11) Blush as person in wheelchair hands you TP under door.
How to tie your shoes
1) Sit on a firm, comfortable surface, right shoe in hand.
2) Raise right foot and place on left thigh.
3) Realize this is impossible.
4) Attempt with left shoe and left foot (also impossible).
5) Decide to do this standing up.
6) Bend toward floor.
7) Observe you have no idea where your feet are.
8) Wonder if a hand mirror might help.
9) It doesn't.
10) Phone neighbor to come over and tie your shoes.
Melissa Balmain is a mother in Blacksburg, Virginia.
Parenting.com, March 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
nope, still no baby
I'm shooting for my birthday =)
oh, and speaking of shooting, d and I went down to the beach on the 3rd with our pastor's wife and some of her kids & grandkids, and d experimented a little with the "fireworks" setting on our camera. Apparently it's harder than it looks since the shutter stays open for a realllly long time. By the end of the night my head became a makeshift tripod, but I'm not sure it helped much since the kid was suffering from hiccups at the time.
oh, and speaking of shooting, d and I went down to the beach on the 3rd with our pastor's wife and some of her kids & grandkids, and d experimented a little with the "fireworks" setting on our camera. Apparently it's harder than it looks since the shutter stays open for a realllly long time. By the end of the night my head became a makeshift tripod, but I'm not sure it helped much since the kid was suffering from hiccups at the time.
Monday, July 03, 2006
You Meet the Strangest People in a Nissan
So as my wife has informed you, we spent the better part of last Tuesday "hanging out" at O'Reilly's, and by hanging out I mean not hanging out. Working. On our people skills.
This all started when I felt the need to take E's overseas screening paperwork to the doc's office here on base. I didn't really feel like putting on the big armor jacket and helmet and gloves necessary to ride my motorcycle over there so I opted for the grocery-getter, seeing how the outside temperature was somewhere in the neighborhood of sweltering. The trip to the office was uneventful, and the time I spent in the office was even more uneventful as I found that there was yet another hoop to jump through before my screening could be finalized. Slightly miffed that this hoop was not mentioned before, I went back to the car to head home and inform the wife that she needed to schedule yet another appointment.
By the time I made it the 50 feet to the car I could not wait to get back into a wonderfully cool, controlled climate. I turn the key yearning for the blast of cold air and.... nothing. "hmm.." I think to myself and turn the key again, this time making sure that the clutch is all the way to the floor. Again, no sign of life from the engine. I begin to sweat and wonder why I didn't say "Newport" when asked which set of orders I would like to pick back in A-school. "Gulfport sounded so interesting. HA!" I remind myself as still the car will not start. I pop the hood and check all my connections, which of course does no good; I am not entirely sure of what I am looking at sometimes. "Why couldn't the academy have offered some shop classes?" I ask myself. "Because," comes my own retort, "they wanted to better prepare me for life by offering a more demanding academic schedule." But this is life!! And I am so unprepared!! thanks again Houghton for a wonderful education. At least now I can come up with a mathmatical equation to figure out how far I now have to walk because I don't know what's wrong with my car.
After what seemed like miles in the sahara, only stickier, I arrived at the Police HQ on base. I recieved a number of strange looks from my cohorts who were on shift and I was asked "Why are you still awake?" and "Don't you have to work tonight?"
"Why yes, I do have to work tonight. Thank you for reminding me that this project now has a deadline." I have to be at work by 8:45 tonight and the wife has a weekly doctor's appt. early tomorrow morning so this leaves precious little time to fix my car and possibly catch a nap before shift. Of course, with a wife who is 37 weeks pregnant and my only means of transportation that works right now being a crotch rocket that she won't touch, I have to get this car fixed today. I tell some variation of this story about twenty times before I finally find the one guy at work who has some mechanical background and I ask him about my current situation.
"Check yur connections" he drawls in response.
"Connections to what?" I ask, trying to rule out as much as possible early on, plus I had already looked at a few connections, including the ones from the spark plugs to the distributer. (I would explain how I know about these connections but it would add to much to the story and can easily be summed up as three cylinder engines don't run on two, so there you have it.)
"Battery terminals, yur starter, plugs, all those little wires." He explains.
Swell, so I am off to the parts store for a terminal cleaning kit. I distinctly remember that in the few minutes I was poking around under the hood I had noticed quite a bit of that blueish-white snow-looking stuff that was undoubtedly fouling my battery connections. Of course this time I had no option but to take the bike and sweat out the ride to O'Reilly's. I bought all the necessary items and was back to the base in no time.
I rolled up to the gate, expecting to get the "wave through" from the gate gaurds that I have been working with for months now. On that list that I gave you earlier of what is required to ride a bike on base, you need to pencil in boots. I forgot to mention them, just like I had forgotten to wear them on this trip. Of course it had to be the one gate gaurd that was so gung-ho about his job that he couldn't just let me slide this once with an I-promise-I-will-wear my-boots-every-time-after-this-one line. No...he made me park my bike at the gate, get a ride from the shift supervisor to my house, get my boots, and get a ride back to the gate so I could ride my bike to my house, get my tools, and then head back to medical to fix my car. Wait a minute, I thought I was the cops!! I would be vengeful and give him a ticket for something stupid but that one gate gaurd also happens to be the only one to walk to work. Foiled again, oh well back to fixing my car.
So I now have the tools and the know how to get this thing running again. I cleaned up my terminals, and the clamps and reassembled my car. "Now I can't wait to get this thing home and got to bed" I think to myself while sitting in the seat and turning the key. Still nothing from the motor.
Augh!! What now!! Well, jumping the car got it to work, so without ever turning the car off I drove it home, got the wife to give me a ride back to my bike, rode it back, then got in the car with E and took it straight to O'Reilly's, where it died in the parking lot.
(This is where it gets interesting.)
"I hope it's the battery or something else that is cheap that they sell here." I thought to myself, since it was apparent that the car was not leaving that spot in its current state. I entered the store and explained my predicament. A helpful employee came right out with a battery tester and we quickly established that the 7 year old stock battery would need to be replaced. So I again walk back into the store to purchase a new battery.
In walks the redneck.
"Is that yur Nissan out thar?" he asks.
"Um, yes..." I reply, unaware that my car was so popular among the hick and toothless.
"Can I look atchur fuses?"
"Sure..." I answer.
The redneck exits, pokes around under my hood and his (which is conveniently parked right next to ours. Hence the "you were right, shoulda brought the camera" comment to B.) then returns to the counter and asks where to find some other parts he "needs."
My help and I exit to work on putting in the nice shiny new battery and negative terminal clamp that I broke. Now I know why service shops charge more to fix a car that has already been worked on by the owner. Outside we meet the hick girlfriend, who is aimlessly examining her own wreck of a nissan. My help and I disconnect the battery and are in the proccess of pulling it out when the redneck returns, befuddled at the predicament that he finds himself in. [note from e: picture a bunch of guys staring under the hood, muttering random mechanical terminology and wiping sweat from their brows. got the picture?] Said redneck begins a random line of questioning about fuses, relays and even his dimmer switch, which I think is stuck at full dull, if you catch my drift. He asks me if my dimmer switch rolls as easily as his and then asks if he can pull mine out and put it in his car to troubleshoot.
"Dude, my car won't start as it is; I'm not piecing it out even more right now." I tell him. So he is back to his own devices. Finally the real question comes out. The redeck asks my help why he has two fuses for his horn. The employee patiently explains that one fuse is for the horn and the other is probably for the anti theft-device.
"Anti-theft? who would steal a horn!?!" the redneck asks.
"Hunny....just don't tawlk." says the girlfriend. Hooray! finally someone with some sense.
The rest of the install went along great and now my car starts up quite nicely. All of this running around and fixing things really got me thinking though. What happens if something goes seriously wrong with my car?! We have really grown accustomed to having that thing around and we kind of need it now, with a baby and all and can't afford to be out a set of wheels. So what am I to do? Sell the bike and buy another "soccer parent mobile" you say? Nah I'll stick with what I've got and make it work, after all that's what my mother in law taught me. So I have been working on this all afternoon and this it what I have come up with: The sportbike babyseat.
.
and you guys said a bike wasn't practical. This way, at least the boy and I can get around if the car goes south again.
*The title of this post is an adaptation of an old honda motorcycles ad slogan. Kudos to you if you remember/know what I am taking about. Alternatively this post would be named "check your conecktions. Again kudos if you get that one.
This all started when I felt the need to take E's overseas screening paperwork to the doc's office here on base. I didn't really feel like putting on the big armor jacket and helmet and gloves necessary to ride my motorcycle over there so I opted for the grocery-getter, seeing how the outside temperature was somewhere in the neighborhood of sweltering. The trip to the office was uneventful, and the time I spent in the office was even more uneventful as I found that there was yet another hoop to jump through before my screening could be finalized. Slightly miffed that this hoop was not mentioned before, I went back to the car to head home and inform the wife that she needed to schedule yet another appointment.
By the time I made it the 50 feet to the car I could not wait to get back into a wonderfully cool, controlled climate. I turn the key yearning for the blast of cold air and.... nothing. "hmm.." I think to myself and turn the key again, this time making sure that the clutch is all the way to the floor. Again, no sign of life from the engine. I begin to sweat and wonder why I didn't say "Newport" when asked which set of orders I would like to pick back in A-school. "Gulfport sounded so interesting. HA!" I remind myself as still the car will not start. I pop the hood and check all my connections, which of course does no good; I am not entirely sure of what I am looking at sometimes. "Why couldn't the academy have offered some shop classes?" I ask myself. "Because," comes my own retort, "they wanted to better prepare me for life by offering a more demanding academic schedule." But this is life!! And I am so unprepared!! thanks again Houghton for a wonderful education. At least now I can come up with a mathmatical equation to figure out how far I now have to walk because I don't know what's wrong with my car.
After what seemed like miles in the sahara, only stickier, I arrived at the Police HQ on base. I recieved a number of strange looks from my cohorts who were on shift and I was asked "Why are you still awake?" and "Don't you have to work tonight?"
"Why yes, I do have to work tonight. Thank you for reminding me that this project now has a deadline." I have to be at work by 8:45 tonight and the wife has a weekly doctor's appt. early tomorrow morning so this leaves precious little time to fix my car and possibly catch a nap before shift. Of course, with a wife who is 37 weeks pregnant and my only means of transportation that works right now being a crotch rocket that she won't touch, I have to get this car fixed today. I tell some variation of this story about twenty times before I finally find the one guy at work who has some mechanical background and I ask him about my current situation.
"Check yur connections" he drawls in response.
"Connections to what?" I ask, trying to rule out as much as possible early on, plus I had already looked at a few connections, including the ones from the spark plugs to the distributer. (I would explain how I know about these connections but it would add to much to the story and can easily be summed up as three cylinder engines don't run on two, so there you have it.)
"Battery terminals, yur starter, plugs, all those little wires." He explains.
Swell, so I am off to the parts store for a terminal cleaning kit. I distinctly remember that in the few minutes I was poking around under the hood I had noticed quite a bit of that blueish-white snow-looking stuff that was undoubtedly fouling my battery connections. Of course this time I had no option but to take the bike and sweat out the ride to O'Reilly's. I bought all the necessary items and was back to the base in no time.
I rolled up to the gate, expecting to get the "wave through" from the gate gaurds that I have been working with for months now. On that list that I gave you earlier of what is required to ride a bike on base, you need to pencil in boots. I forgot to mention them, just like I had forgotten to wear them on this trip. Of course it had to be the one gate gaurd that was so gung-ho about his job that he couldn't just let me slide this once with an I-promise-I-will-wear my-boots-every-time-after-this-one line. No...he made me park my bike at the gate, get a ride from the shift supervisor to my house, get my boots, and get a ride back to the gate so I could ride my bike to my house, get my tools, and then head back to medical to fix my car. Wait a minute, I thought I was the cops!! I would be vengeful and give him a ticket for something stupid but that one gate gaurd also happens to be the only one to walk to work. Foiled again, oh well back to fixing my car.
So I now have the tools and the know how to get this thing running again. I cleaned up my terminals, and the clamps and reassembled my car. "Now I can't wait to get this thing home and got to bed" I think to myself while sitting in the seat and turning the key. Still nothing from the motor.
Augh!! What now!! Well, jumping the car got it to work, so without ever turning the car off I drove it home, got the wife to give me a ride back to my bike, rode it back, then got in the car with E and took it straight to O'Reilly's, where it died in the parking lot.
(This is where it gets interesting.)
"I hope it's the battery or something else that is cheap that they sell here." I thought to myself, since it was apparent that the car was not leaving that spot in its current state. I entered the store and explained my predicament. A helpful employee came right out with a battery tester and we quickly established that the 7 year old stock battery would need to be replaced. So I again walk back into the store to purchase a new battery.
In walks the redneck.
"Is that yur Nissan out thar?" he asks.
"Um, yes..." I reply, unaware that my car was so popular among the hick and toothless.
"Can I look atchur fuses?"
"Sure..." I answer.
The redneck exits, pokes around under my hood and his (which is conveniently parked right next to ours. Hence the "you were right, shoulda brought the camera" comment to B.) then returns to the counter and asks where to find some other parts he "needs."
My help and I exit to work on putting in the nice shiny new battery and negative terminal clamp that I broke. Now I know why service shops charge more to fix a car that has already been worked on by the owner. Outside we meet the hick girlfriend, who is aimlessly examining her own wreck of a nissan. My help and I disconnect the battery and are in the proccess of pulling it out when the redneck returns, befuddled at the predicament that he finds himself in. [note from e: picture a bunch of guys staring under the hood, muttering random mechanical terminology and wiping sweat from their brows. got the picture?] Said redneck begins a random line of questioning about fuses, relays and even his dimmer switch, which I think is stuck at full dull, if you catch my drift. He asks me if my dimmer switch rolls as easily as his and then asks if he can pull mine out and put it in his car to troubleshoot.
"Dude, my car won't start as it is; I'm not piecing it out even more right now." I tell him. So he is back to his own devices. Finally the real question comes out. The redeck asks my help why he has two fuses for his horn. The employee patiently explains that one fuse is for the horn and the other is probably for the anti theft-device.
"Anti-theft? who would steal a horn!?!" the redneck asks.
"Hunny....just don't tawlk." says the girlfriend. Hooray! finally someone with some sense.
The rest of the install went along great and now my car starts up quite nicely. All of this running around and fixing things really got me thinking though. What happens if something goes seriously wrong with my car?! We have really grown accustomed to having that thing around and we kind of need it now, with a baby and all and can't afford to be out a set of wheels. So what am I to do? Sell the bike and buy another "soccer parent mobile" you say? Nah I'll stick with what I've got and make it work, after all that's what my mother in law taught me. So I have been working on this all afternoon and this it what I have come up with: The sportbike babyseat.
.
and you guys said a bike wasn't practical. This way, at least the boy and I can get around if the car goes south again.*The title of this post is an adaptation of an old honda motorcycles ad slogan. Kudos to you if you remember/know what I am taking about. Alternatively this post would be named "check your conecktions. Again kudos if you get that one.
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