Big Brother

After school today Little Man was holding Sprout. He looked down at him and whispered, "Don't touch my mozormichael."

Still Here

We survived this month's version of the Mysterious Daycare Virus, yesterday Sprout and I had our first day home alone (and survived to blog about it), and in the meantime Sprout turned 3 weeks and Little Man turned 28 months.

A word to those of you with two-year-olds or almost two-year-olds: they hear and understand everything. I'll spare myself the pain of recounting, but basically LM overheard something I said to T. last night and concluded, "You don't want to play with me, Daddy?" Stab me right in the heart. T. now has the homework assignment of asking Little Man to play with him tonight, to undo the psychological damage I'm convinced I've done.

Since Little Man is out of quarantine, I took a few pictures last night. Yes, I know they're basically the same as previous pictures, but I'm trying to keep our public happy and supplied with photos.

Sprout: I'm going to eat your arm!

Yes, LM is watching TV (Jeopardy, it's educational) over his shoulder in this picture but it's so sweet how he rested his cheek on LM's head, isn't it?

You'll be disappointed to hear that Sprout blew a perfect snot bubble out of his nose last night, but Little Man popped it before I took the picture. Well, we have a lifetime of booger pictures to take.

Update on Little Man

I thought that when the Motrin ran out we'd be in trouble. But he woke up happy and fever-free today. Of course he has to stay home because of the daycare's policy, and we're still not letting him touch Sprout, but I think he might actually have more energy that usual.

Mysterious daycare viruses are fun.

It's All Fun and Games...

... until the 2-year-old comes home with 102 fever.

He sat on his bed and moaned, "Dadddddyyyyyy." It was pitiful. Then we gave him Motrin, he took a 90 minute nap, and was back to himself. He was actually singing. It's a miracle drug. We shall see what tomorrow holds.

Men

As T. put it, Sprout seems a lot more "primal" than Little Man ever was. We noticed immediately that he cries like a baby. LM never had that newborn "weh weh weh" cry; he cried like a man from day one. Then there's eating. LM wanted as much milk as possible as fast as possible. Once we gave him a bottle it was all over - that's all he wanted - food now with minimal work. I'm afraid to give Sprout a bottle 'cause he might go on a hunger strike or stop sleeping or something. He says, "Let's have a snack and cuddle."

Then there's this.


"Could you please smile without saying 'cheeeeeese'?"
The little one is spoiled rotten. This is how he prefers to nap. So for the last week, this is how he has napped. Little Man would happily sleep in his bouncy seat or his crib when he was a newborn. This one demands a warm body. We're going to be in trouble when T. goes back to work on Monday.

Big Boy Seat

Little Man got some big-brother gifts when Sprout was born. One of them was a gift card (thanks, Aunt ME and Uncle S!). We went online and picked out a booster seat. I admit I talked up the booster seat to push him in that direction, but he picked the color.

Actually, he picked pink. This was his second choice. I think he's pleased.
Shortly after the top picture was taken, Daddio learned a valuable lesson. Do not leave a highlighter on the dining room table in reach of LM's Big Boy seat. I was in the family room feeding Sprout and even Little Man calling to me, "Mommy, I'm making a circle. Mommy, I made an airplane with a twopeller [propeller]" didn't clue me in that he had something to write with.

Good Stuff

I have spent roughly the last 9 months researching double strollers. I've asked strangers what their stroller is and how they like it, and I have spent countless hours reading stroller reviews on Amazon and on message boards. I visited Babies R Us and a boutique-y kid gear place and pushed around a bunch of strollers.

Once I decided what I wanted, I checked on it on Amazon every day. I added it to my cart and never bought it. Well, on Sunday I bought it. The price had gone up due to my procrastination, but that's what happens on Amazon.

Here she is, the beautiful thing.You'll notice that it's certified for babies from birth due to the crazy recline on the seats. The sun shades are HUGE but if we'd shown you that in the picture you actually wouldn't have been able to see the children.

Unfortunately, this is as far as I can walk right now - one house away. But once I heal up, watch out world! We'll be walkin' all over.By the way, do you like my Crocs? Not only are we 3 years late to the ugly shoe trend, but I got an ugly color. And I kind of love them.

And a couple extra pics for your viewing pleasure:
Multitasking:

Sprout is what T. calls an "opportunistic napper". Today he was hungry and I even changed his diaper so he was good and awake. I handed him to T. so I could get ready to feed him, and he was asleep in a moment. Give him a nice warm body and he'll nap on it.

Two Weeks

The Sprout is 2 weeks old today. We had our 10-day checkup a little late on Monday. He's living up to his nickname as he surpassed his birthweight with flying colors. Although we think his head is tiny compared to Little Man's head, the nurse informed us that it's above average. The lactaction consultant says we can dial-back on the amount of formula we're supplementing him with. He disagrees, and has recently gone from crying pitifully when hungry to getting really really angry and loud.

On Sunday, Sprout's umbilical stump fell off. Why do I always want to call it his "plug"? Anyway, we could finally give him a bath.
Doula to the stars, Katie, also stopped by this weekend. We hadn't gotten a picture of her with the Sprout when we were in the hospital, so here it is.
I cannot believe I didn't have a swing with Little Man. I love the swing. My mom donated hers since she'd rather hold the babies when they're at her house anyway.
Which brings me to,
EG's Stuff To Be Thankful For (Or "Stuff For Which To Be Thankful" if you want to get all grammatical on me):
1. Not having twins.
2. Pacifiers.
3. The swing.

This is what I think about when I'm feeding him in the wee hours. Mostly I say, "at least it's not twins" a lot.

And we can't forget The Big Brother. I forgot one of his funnies. You may have noticed that Daddio grew a Daddy Beard while we were in the hospital with Sprout. I think it's mighty handsome. It has created a little bit of a beard fascination in Little Man. We often verify that Daddio has a beard and Mommy and Sprout don't have beards.

Last night Grandpa Jeff was telling Little Man that Sprout is going to grow big like him, and that Little Man is going to grow, too. LM said, "I grow up. I grow a beard. I be a man."

Cleaning his mozormichael (his shorts are covered in bubbles).
The boys:

Moments to Remember

This morning when Little Man woke up I climbed into his big-boy bed with him to lay and wait for Daddio to come in and get him ready for school.

He looked me in the eyes. "Mommy," he whispered, "I eat boogers. You want one?!" We try to teach him generosity and sharing.

Then when I got out of his bed, which is no small feat due to the safety rails on both sides of his mattress, he said, "Mommy, your belly is soooo big!"

Love that kid.

Grandma and The Boys

Just before taking this picture Little Man pulled a Sharpie out of Grandma's pocket and gave himself a Hitler mustache. We considered giving Sprout a matching 'stache so you could tell they're brothers, but decided against it.
Sprout feels left out because he doesn't have a guitar shirt.
I highly recommend recruiting my mom to stay with you when you have a baby. Our house has never been cleaner (when we got home from the hospital T. said, "We have a shoe rack!" Seriously, we've never even considered that we need a shoe rack, but our closet finally makes sense. Also it's very clear that I need to take stuff to the Thrift Shop.), we no longer have kitchen ants, and Little Man learned valuable skills like going down the stairs on his bottom and spitting out the toothpaste when he brushes his teeth.

As I told my sister-in-law, "My mom solves problems I didn't know I had." Thanks, Mom! Back to reality (our new reality).

Safety First

In full motorcycle gear. Helmet, jacket, gloves, and boots. He should probably get some knee protection, although it looks like it's too late.

The Big Brother

Little Man has been a great big brother. He likes to touch Sprout's head ("he's soft"), and he asks to hold him (even though we never suggested it). The other night he climbed in bed with us when I was feeding the little guy. He touched Sprout's little toes, then leaned down and kissed his feet. That is love.

As an aside, since I can't lift him into our tall bed he has developed his own way. He lifts the bedskirt so he can get a foothold on the bedframe, then uses my leg to pull himself up.
We don't have a blanket quite like Little Man's Puppy to benchmark his growth against. I thought this sock monkey would do (plus his legs are just as skinny as the monkey's legs).
He was thoughtful enough to stretch out to his full length.

GREEN

Back when I painted Little Man's big boy room, I think I warned you that it's GREEN. Whenever T. would ask what color green I was going to paint, I'd tell him "true green" but I shocked even myself with this one.

When my mom was here last month we found the perfect fabric for the curtains. She made them and brought them this week.

And so I present to you, Little Man's GREEN Big Boy Room.

Those are old train posters from a calendar, which we framed and hung over his bed. The poster in the black frame is a 1996 Atlanta Olympics poster.
Yellow dresser and new bookshelf from Ikea assembled by Daddio.
A better look at the miraculously perfect drapery/ pillow fabric that matches the green walls and turquoise bedspread. And was 50% off.

I can post pictures without writing a coherent sentence

And there were four:

DaddioHere's the same pose with Little Man, but LM was about a month old:
Mommy:
Here's how Grandma and Little Man spend every evening. He won't let her kick the Thomas ball, so she's stuck with the inferior Pooh ball:And we got a cookie bouquet!

Love

The Story

It seems that we women of childbearing persuasion love to read each others' birth stories. So for you, I post it here (and for my own therapy). For those of you who aren't interested in these things, feel free to skip this post.

I was hoping for a Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC) with this baby. The primary reason is that we don't know how many kids we'll want, and we don't want multiple uterine scars to be the limiting factor in our family size. I also remember after Little Man was born laying in bed thinking how much harder the recovery would be with a toddler at home. And I was just sort of annoyed because I felt that I wound up with a c-section with LM because of such textbook reasons - being confined to the bed once they saw meconium in my fluid, having pitocin & and epidural, etc. So I've been talking to my OB about a VBAC since my 6 week post-partum appt with LM. I was really fortunate that the doctor I was already with (who is NOT the person who did prenatal care with LM, but rather who was called in at last minute to do the section) was really open to it.

I had a feeling I would go into labor once I finished all the important things on my list - go out to dinner alone with T. on Monday, and go out for ice cream as a family of 3 on Tuesday. I got halfway there. T. and I had a nice dinner out Monday night, then went for a drive in the mountains. At 1 a.m. Tuesday contractions started 5 minutes apart and they never waned. They gradually intensified.

Hour 10 we called the doula, Katie, to come over and help us through labor. We certainly didn't think we had so far to go. We went for a couple of walks, I took a couple of baths, drank a ton of water, ate blandly, and worked through the contractions with Katie.

Hour 22 we went to the hospital becuase I felt a change of scenery might get things going, and I was concerned about spending another 24 hours in labor with no sleep. When they checked me I was at 1-2 cm. While we were there I vomited up everything, so they gave me something for nausea and sleeping and sent me home. There was no sleep to be had (laying flat is THE WORST) so every 4 minutes Tim got to hear, "Oh God please make it stop please make it stop please make it stop" while he was trying to sleep.

Hour 27 we went back to the hospital. We called ahead and my doctor told them to give me Nubain, thank GOD. Apparently after they got that in my IV they checked my cervix and drew blood and I don't remember either of those things. I was able to get some sleep.

I'm already losing memory of most of Wednesday. Fairly early in the day my OB said we were likely through the riskiest part of labor as far as VBAC complications went. I took a shower at some point. Sprout was showing slight decels with contractions so they limited me to ice chips, although I didn't want to eat anyway. I think most of the day I sat straight up in the hospital bed and dozed between contractions. I got into a rhythm of breathing/ moaning through the contractions. Having a doula was key to keeping my focus.

Hour 37 my doctor recommended an epidural as the only pain relief which would enable me to rest so I could conserve energy for pushing. The epidural was never quite effective. I could feel the contractions fully on my left side. My legs were tingly but I could feel them. I might've snoozed for about 30 minutes. My doctor checked me and I was at 10 cm! But the baby was still very high, so he broke my water. There was no meconium in the fluid which was great. Dr. Roberts told me I had about an hour to let him move down, and if he didn't there was nothing else we could do - it would be a c-section. By then the epidural had completely worn off. I had complete control of my legs, which was a good thing. Dr. Roberts gave me about 90 minutes, in which I did a ton of squatting and rocking through the contractions to try to move Sprout down (they attached a squat bar to the bed). At hour 39 Dr. Roberts checked me and he was still high, and actually without the pressure of the bag of waters, I'd gone back to 7-8 cm dilated. He said there was nothing more to be done.

The next hour was not my finest. I remembered all the bad things about c-section. The primary thing I kept saying is that Little Man would be confused about having to stay off of me. I cried (understatement) and couldn't stop shaking. I asked the anesthesiologist for a sedative because I knew I was being hysterical (she said no). They tried to insert a Foley catheter even though I'd told them the epidural was ineffective. I went completely through the roof and rumor has it I may have threatened the nurse (but seriously, it took them 30 seconds to insert the catheter after they'd put in my spinal block in the OR, why did she want to do it with no pain relief?). Through all of this I was having contractions around every 3 minutes, and they hurt just as bad of course. I didn't want to concentrate and breathe through them anymore, which made it more painful and me more hysterical.

Thank God the (different) anesthesiologist believed me that the epidural was ineffective. They took the time to figure out what dosage I needed, and in the OR they removed the epidural and put in a spinal block instead. They put in the catheter after that. As soon as the pain was gone I was able to control myself enough to stop shaking, and get some perspective on it all (pain isn't good for having perspective). Sprout came out crying and healthy, and once he was cleaned up he and T. went back to our room for weighing, bathing, etc. Song playing when he was born: Learning to Fly by Tom Petty.

I was feeling a lot of pulling on my innards at that time and overheard my OB say "ligament tear". The nurse anesthetist peeked over the curtain and said, "Yeah, I'm not surprised you can feel that." He gave me something in my IV to make me woozy so I could drift through it. I guess when you have a c-section, sometimes things heal to other things in weird ways. The OB told me afterwards that my bladder was about 5 cm higher than it was supposed to be, so instead of my uterus greeting him when he made the incision, my bladder did. Thank goodness he recognized it and didn't nick it. In the act of simultaneously pushing down my bladder and pulling out the baby's head, the incision he made in my uterus was extended, tearing an artery (this is called an "extension"). So he had to clamp that off, get the baby and the placenta out, then fix the artery. The ligament tear was to my broad ligament, I'm not sure if that was an injury that happened with the extension or an old one that he fixed. In addition my abdominal muscles had healed separate instead of together along the center of my abdomen, so he fixed that (I figure I'll have washboard abs in about 6 weeks). He said all of this will not affect future pregnancies. I'm really thankful for the doctors I have.

All that surgery has resulted in a pretty awful recovery. I have twice as much pain as I did after the first c-section. The "extension" was likely because I was a VBAC attempt - I guess when you labor your uterus thins, so if it'd been a scheduled repeat c-section that likely would not have happened. The bladder thing and abdominal muscles thing were a result of the first c-section, so that would've happened anyway. Doc said the recovery is typically worse for each subsequent c-section.

All-in-all I'm disappointed that my labor didn't end in a vaginal delivery like we'd hoped. But I don't regret trying it. And I'm so very thankful that we live in a time when they can get an uncooperative baby out with relatively little harm to mother or baby.

Through the Eyes of a Two-Year-Old

This morning Little Man asked Daddio where Sprout is. He said, "Sprout is eating." Little Man said matter-of-factly, "Sprout is eating Mommy."

Sprout

Well as you know I don't put my kids' names up here on the vast Interweb for all to see. So we have "Little Man" who you all know, and now we have this new one. While I was in the OR on Wednesday (I still owe you the story of how I came to be in the OR for those of you who are interested, I'll get to it eventually) I said to T., "what about 'Sprout' for this one's blog nickname?" It's good to focus on the important issues of life when having a life-changing event and also major surgery. Blogging apparently ranks high. I reserve the right to change it at any time. Perhaps to "Chomp."

And so I present, Sprout.

After he and T. left the OR, they took him back to our room for the initial exam and clean-up. This was an improvement over 2 years ago when they took Little Man to the nursery and T. could only watch through the window.

Wide awake.
He has long monkey toes.
Love this one.
On Thursday we got our first visitors including big brother Little Man. He took everything pretty much in stride, and was mostly interested in eating the Fruit Loops I'd saved him from breakfast and looking at books and magazines with Daddio.

The boys exchanged gifts.
When they were leaving, Little Man wanted to high-five everyone. He high-fived Daddio, then me, then I held up Sprout's hand so he could high-five him. When he saw that Sprout had another idea, he went along with it and gave him a fist bump instead. Secret brother handshake.

"I Remember Him"

My recovery from this c-section is proving to be significantly harder than my recovery from the first. I was hesitant to leave the hospital yesterday as I still couldn't get out of bed by myself, but we decided that with T. and my mom in the house I'd stick to the same level of activity I had in the hospital (feeding baby and going to the bathroom with assistance) and would get there eventually.

Little did I know I'd need that assistance to get out of bed and feed the baby every 30 minutes, all night long.

I figured things would get worse at home before they got better, and we had noticed in the hospital that when this kid is near me he assumes it's meal time. We weren't quite prepared for the 8-hour buffet experience last night. We've been supplementing him with a syringe of formula to keep the doctors happy with the weight loss and # of wet diapers. We made the executive decision to double the amount of formula we were supplementing with, and yet still we fed him all night long.

Finally at around 4:00 a.m. I called to see if it was possible to over-feed him. The nurse said, "Oh, I remember him. He did this all night long the last two nights. If his pacifier fell out he'd cry. Some kids have a stronger urge to suck than others. Only feed him every hour to give yourself a rest."

Feeding every hour means from the start of one to the start of the next, which means an hour in between is maybe 30 minutes rest for my body. Once you account for getting us all out of bed, preparing the supplement, changing a diaper if it's time, going to the bathroom myself if necessary, the hour is pretty much up.

I want a wet nurse and a nanny.

Home

More to come after sleep has been had. Talk to you in 2 months. Kidding, KIDDING.

New One

#2 was born on 7/8/2009 at 5:02 p.m. He was 7 lbs, 15 oz, and 21.5 inches (1 oz and 1/2 inch larger than the Big Brother. He's healthy and hungry.

Lots to tell about the whole labor & delivery thing for those of you who are interested in all of that, but it'll have to wait for another day. Our photos will also wait for another day - we're still in the hospital.

My mom did post one picture, though, which I have swiped for your viewing pleasure.

Language

I assumed that for a toddler, language acquisition would be straight memorization, and that his pronunciation would improve when he gained the motor skills to do it. But recently I've noticed Little Man practicing pronouncing things that are tricky to him.

Yesterday we were leaving church, and he asked me, "You have a la-lay-la?" Huh? "La-lay-la? Lum-lay-la?" Umbrella! The whole way home he pronouced, slowly and perfectly, "Um-brel-la." He even got the l's.

When he finished dinner he told me he was going to ride his "mozormichael." As I got him cleaned up I said, "You'd better go find that mozormichael." He knew I was teasing, grinned, and said, "No, Mommy, 'Mo-zor-mich-ael.'" Okay, so he can't quite fix that one even with practice yet, but he knows he doesn't quite have it right.

Later we were playing outside. He said, "I want some hock." Huh? "Hock. Hock. Ch-ock." Chalk! Instead of getting frustrated when I can't understand him, he's slowing down and thinking about it.

Which is not to say that he's mature beyond his 27 months. We're still working out the whole discipline thing, but the language acquisition thing is going nicely.

Independence Day

This morning Mimi taught Little Man to say "Independence Day," although he still thought the fireworks were for the Hokies.

Yesterday afternoon we went to Uncle J and Aunt L's house for a cookout. They're excellent grillers, and Mimi contributed two dishes that I don't make (broccoli salad and carrot cake) so T. was happy to have more food that we don't usually have around here.

B. brought sparklers.
Little Man had strong feelings about the sparklers. I like the way M. is looking at him. "You're disturbing the peace, kid."
Like Cinderella's pumpkin coach, the magic disappeared at 9:00 and we hit meltdown land. By the time we got home at 9:15 he said, "I need to go night-night. I need my blankie. I need cover-you-up." He was asleep before the fireworks started at 9:30.

A Day of Leisure

Still pregnant. That's the Baby #2 update.

We enjoyed a day off of work today. Little Man and I walked to the park to slide and swing in the morning, he helped Mimi weed in the morning and helped me weed in the afternoon, and he had Grandpa Jeff take him for a ride in the stroller in the afternoon. The adults also got a lot checked off of the honey-do list this morning.

Playing a duet with Mimi.


Daddy in full gear after a ride.In other news, we got Guitar Hero World Tour for Daddio's birthday. It's a Wii game with guitar, drums, and microphone. It's being assembled as I type. Most excellent.

So They Say It's Your Birthday

Tuesday was Daddio's real birthday. Since his parents are in town, he got what every boy wants, dinner fixed by his mom. Lasagna. And chocolate cake.

Daddio had his party shirt on.

I love all 3 kids staring at the card with the butts on it. That's what uncles are for - butt cards. Or something.
Last night we think Little Man asked for boots. It's not quite clear, and I'm not convinced he would remember that he has snow boots. But I put them on him and he was pleased. He just needed his helmet and he was ready for a ride. I love this first one.