Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Happy Birthday!

My sweet Harrison,

I can't believe a year has passed. Today marks the day that I woke up, unsuspecting that this would be the day you entered our lives. Small, but perfect. I see you now, and how you've transformed into a "little boy". Not that four and a half pound baby we brought home fifty weeks ago nearly being sucked in by your car seat. I can still hear the beeping of the NICU as if it was yesterday. It seemed we'd never get out of there, but here we are.

You are napping right now. If you weren't, I'd be busy chasing you around the house, distracting you from the plants, the outlets, the cabinet doors, the dog crates, the trash can, the laundry, the liquor cabinet, the door stoppers, my cell phone, the blind cords, the modem, and the fireplace. But alas, you are asleep. A perfect twenty pound bundle of Babywise joy that Daddy and I never thought we could love more. But we do....every day. And even though you love using your three new teeth to bite us, and that you show a premature infatuation with wine, we love you immensely.

Your personality is bursting. You are such a good baby. Sweet, cuddly, predictable. Rarely, when I'm frustrated, I have to check myself, because I am realizing that we truly are the "mini-me's" of our parents. All your sly little quirks come straight from Daddy and I, and I couldn't be more amused. At the same time, I look up to the Heavens and I say, "I'm sorry, Mom. I never knew!" But Sweetheart, even your most devious moments are precious to us. Just last night we reprimanded you for tossing that delicious tomato on the floor because clearly you were done. As we both met you with a firm, "No Harrison", you put your head down and shook your head "no". Daddy and I said, "Right! Good boy! No!" Then you might as well have winked at us as you sent the next tomato down to the freshly mopped floors and clapped. I had to turn around to laugh. You are so coy...

You are discovering the world around you, you are so smart, and no stone is left unturned. You play basketball in the tub, sinking every one. You are the best cabinet opener and shutter I've ever seen. I swear, you do it with such precision. You are an expert navigator, and you travel at mach speed on those little red knees I like to kiss every night. You won't bother with walking, because that seems like too much trouble, and besides, you like to stay low and out of sight.

I am overwhelmed with love for you. Oh how my entire world is now centered around making yours as good as I can. I know, my boy, that I don't always do my best. Mommy is learning, too. And although I might make mistakes now and then, my love for you continues to grow and I will always have your best interest at heart. I can promise you that I will give you all my love, protection and devotion until the day I die.

We lost your grandpa this Thanksgiving, but have I got stories for you about how proud he was. The eight months he knew you were spent loving, praising, and doting on you. He was mostly proud that you look just like him! Just wait, I'll show you some day. Your grandpa lives right inside your heart as he does in mine, along with your grandma. You won't have any problem getting to know her though, because I'm the carbon copy. Lucky you!!

I anticipate a wonderful party for you on Saturday. We got you the Cake of All Cakes...I just hope you eat it! But chances are you'll want that tomato instead. I expect the next year will be as full of surprises and joys as this past year was, and I look forward with a taste of bittersweet to the changes we will see in you as you learn more about the joys of life. Guess I better stop cursing!

So again, Happy Birthday, Son. You couldn't be more precious or perfect in my eyes...and from what I'm learning, in everyone else's as well.

I love you,


Saturday, October 3, 2009

Getting Mobile

AHHHH....the lazy days of snuggling with baby who was a prisoner to the way I position him are now long over. He has now discovered that his arms and legs reposition any which way he my sudden yet short-felt dismay. Development is a beautiful thing, yes I agree, however: IT MEANS YOU NEVER GET TO SIT DOWN...EVER!!!!!! Whoa!

Currently, we're battling our first illness. Boy that's painful, those once quiet nights give way to middle of the night crying, once again reminding us of the newborn days. So a gallon of Vapo-Steam and three Barefoot Contessa books tucked under one side of his mattress later, we're still dealing with a little congestion and a fever here and there. Just enough to put this new mom over the edge. As if worrying about the Swine Flu wasn't enough, I'm ready to build a bomb shelter under the house. Call me in March. We'll emerge pale, light sensitive, and hairy.

Speaking of hairy, that leads me to my latest Parenthood discoveries list:

1) Shaving. Now, is it really necessary? I mean, so many other things have been cut out of my life. Why not use that little time-saving treasure in the shower? It's a constant internal struggle every morning. (This may be TMI, but who am I to withhold information?) I shave my armpits every morning. That cannot go untreated, because, well that's just disgusting. But razor in hand, I always look at my legs and begin this dialogue in my head:
-I felt a temperature below 70 degrees the other day. I can just wear pants.
-But, Tony might be disgusted if I get into bed tonight with prickly legs.
-Well, I bet it will grow enough to become soft by then. You know, soft flowing
leg hair?
-You're right. Let's skip today. We'll use extra lotion.
BOOM! I'm outta the shower in 5 minutes. Nice....

2) Rolling. Boy that sure was cute for five minutes. Now I have to strap Harrison in my papoose in order to get anything done. If I walk away for two seconds, he could manage to roll to Frisco if the front door was open. But at night? A big case of the Sundowners Syndrome. Oh, well he rolls onto his stomach and then he can't figure out how to get back over, so let's just cry until Mommy or Daddy flips me. We stopped flipping. Tough love, right?

3)Solids+Talking=Stained clothes. This child is so my husband's offspring. We've started mini-discipline during feeding time because he REALLY enjoys blowing raspberries into the spoon, thus creating a prune/banana/applesauce/pea Tidal Wave. Tasty. When I look at him sternly and say, "Harrison! NO." He drops his little chin and gives me this flirty look as if to say, "Yeah right, Mommy. I'll just whip up a fever here real fast and I'll have YOU eating out of the palm of MY hand!" And he's right.

4) Holy explosion in the diaper running down your leg, Batman! What in the grossest poop ever is going on here? Damn solids.

5) Ahhh....we revisit intimacy. Yeah, go ahead, have one teeny, tiny, dirty thought and it's meltdown city and Harrison's the mayor. Abort the mission, you've got a baby! You silly adult with adult needs! Forget 'em!


6) Have you seen What About Bob? Please tell me you have...and that you remember the scene where he's sleeping and no one can wake him up. They jump on the bed, scream in his ear, hit him...and it isn't until the tiny bell from his tiny alarm clock dings and he arises if nothing has happened.
Well, the freaking Polar Express could blow straight through my living room and this baby won't wake up. Oh, but sneeze upstairs on the other side of the house and you can consider that nap OVER! Baby steps for shiz....

I love this baby and seeing all of the wonderful new developments that happen, literally, daily. What a blessing it is to see such a little miracle (my fifteen pound miracle, mind you) change and grow. I got my first hug and kiss the other day. Sloppy, but joyous. Our precious son, as time goes by becomes more and more like us. I'll try to remember that when we're experiencing his first time-out, or God forbid, spanking!

I think we'll stick with one child for now...Box wine, where are you?

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

A Letter to Mom

Dear Mommy,

As you know, your grandson is now almost five months old. It's truly amazing, as you said it would be, to watch how much they grow and change day by day. I only wish you could be here to see it. I give you full credit for watching over him as he was brought into the world VERY early, and keeping him healthy and stable. Thank you. He's got every bit of fighting spirit that you had. What a special gift!

We never know what kind of mother we will be. We know what we will aspire to be, what we think we'll be, but those results don't always come to fruition. I've however, had the pleasure of discovering that I am very much like you in so many ways. This pleases me because you are always on my mind, and I am constantly reminding myself of you. Seeing as how this is the closest I will get to being with you, I'll take it. (Granted, I sometimes roll my eyes at myself when I see it happening)

Brutally honest and raw, yet capable of so much love and passion, I can see how my reactions to different situations are sometimes laughable, sometimes pitiful, and sometimes selfless and heartfelt. I also find that there are times I allow that panic and paranoia to creep in, resulting in great laughs from my peers. I am not perfect, I make mistakes, but I think for the most part you would be proud of me. I can't take any credit though, for everything I do and feel seems innate...implanted by you over 29 years filled with love, care, and concern.

Aside from being given the name that you chose so many years ago, I notice so many of your special qualities in Harrison. Like being really loud. (See video below) He'll talk forEVER just to be heard, and only seeks acknowledgment. He definitely enjoys a good conversation, as we used to do for hours, only he doesn't last that long. Thank goodness! He also coughs when you clean his ears with a Q-tip. Getting through it is torture, but anything to avoid "Ragu Ears" as you would kindly put it. His greatest attribute, aside from being the most wonderful baby that ever existed, is that he snorts. A true treasure amongst us Enke women, I am so proud to have passed that endearing gem on to him. It may not last, but I'll enjoy it while I can. Tony thinks my snorting is cute. I imagine Harrison won't bag many women if he continues. Hmmm...I may have discovered a Master Plan?? :) He hasn't, however, unintentionally insulted a midget to their face yet. But give him time...

Working. I know. It isn't how you did it, and it isn't how I wanted to do it, either. But Mom, I'm doing my very best, and I hope you know that I've managed to find the best care for your grandson. Your niece. Who now lives two doors down from me. The relationship you asked for us to treasure and continue on your deathbed has turned out to be one of the biggest blessings I could've asked for. And as Lauren, Robert and I were raised as siblings, so will Harrison, Eva, and Luca. The gift of family is irreplaceable and precious, and I can't help thinking that you aligned some sort of parallel for us to follow, as you've sent your graces about us to make things easier. In addition, having Tony's family has been something I never knew I'd find, and now couldn't live without. You led me to this, and I thank you for that as well. Harrison has many "villages" caring for him. Don't worry, no tribes. Nothing primitive here.

I know you know the coming year is going to be a tough one. Daddy is sick, and I know you're watching over him. Please know that he is in good hands, and I'll continue to do everything in my power to keep him safe and happy. Being surrounded by people that love and adore him I know will make the transitions he faces that much more comfortable. You'll roll your eyes with disgust to know that since you've been gone, I've still been unable to educate him on how a dishwasher or washing machine works. I'm sorry for marking your washing machine dial with permanent marker, he needed a visual but it still didn't work. Good thing you bought him underwear for every damn holiday. He never runs out. I digress. Most importantly, he is being taken care of, so don't worry. People will think I'm cruel for saying this, but they don't know our relationship, so I'll say it anyway. Party hard with Janie now, because if and when he shows up, you're back on the clock! Get your rack of lamb and rutabagas ready...and good luck with that because I've stolen all your Le Creuset and All-Clad from the house. I imagine that they have a pretty good set up where you are, so I won't feel guilty about it. Remember that time I called you from the grocery store to ask if a whole chicken was a chicken? Yeah, I haven't improved much since then. I think I'm fancy when I don't burn the BĂ©arnaise and I get a salad on the table. So hijacking your pricey cookware hasn't done much for my culinary talents. Whatever, I know you're laughing.

I've spent the last three years wishing I could get one more kiss from you. One more hug. One more laugh. One more phone call. One more trip through the Dog House drive-thru where you called the owners Communists and you forced us to hide out in the parking lot.

One more anything....

But now, if given the chance, I'd trade that anything to give my son one kiss from you. Just one. Through pictures, I might be able to paint a fragmented picture of you, your character, your legend. But if I could give Harrison that one kiss, I don't doubt for a second that he could capture your entire soul and remember it for a lifetime. This precious child, whose only misfortune will be never knowing you, has become my best way of dealing with your absence. I desperately give to him all the love and affection you were never ashamed to show me, and though I may not reach perfection, I know I have enough love to give him from the both of us. What's more is that I have enough courage and strength to say that.

Thank you, Mom. For demonstrating true love, leading me to love, and giving me the power to love like you did. Unconditionally, irrevocably, and eternally.

Loving and missing you always,


Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Rolling Right Along!

Wow! So here's our boy, taking one of his first rolls across his playmat. Of course I didn't catch the first one because he did it behind my back...sneaky little thing...just like Daddy.

The first three months were amazing, watching him grow and change. Steadily, he started doing all the things he was supposed to. On time, and even early in some cases. This is incredible to us considering we were told to expect him to do things two months late. You show them, Harrison! But now, it seems that every day brings something new. Like today, the thumb sucking. For all my FB friends out there, you saw the pictures. He woke up this morning (actually, WE had to wake him up, praise Jesus!) and started going after his thumb like a maniac. Problem is, he doesn't know where to put the other four fingers. He quickly solved the problem for one of them...straight up the nose. Bless his heart, I know I'll be yelling at him for that one day. As those precious little hands get bigger, I can just see how time flies, and how every moment is a gift. Our day is a steady routine, thanks to my sister-in-law who generously lent me her Babywise book which I think is the most sacred document ever written second to the Bible. I'm pretty sure Harrison could take care of himself at this point. However, I'm still learning, and to keep with tradition, here are my newly learned lessons from Mommyville.

  • That erection is much more than embarrassing, it's a sign you're about to get peed on. Cover it up NOW!
  • The discovery of hands is as powerful as Zack Morris' "Time-out".
  • After four months, other parents stop laughing at your paranoia. Now they tell you to shut up, you're being stupid.
  • "Mystery Diagnosis" is a dangerous show for new moms. Who needs a pediatrician? I give Harrison a full physical every time I watch that damn show. No symptoms yet, but I'm sure they'll turn up.
  • Be patient with the husband. He knows the baby is much more resilient than we give them credit for. I watched Tony pick Harrison up the other day in a very Chimpanzee sort of way. Horrified, I decided to keep my mouth shut and went for the wine.

Just a few new I'm ready for more.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Look How Far We've Come

Harrison turned 3 months old on July 1st. Such blessed and spontaneous beginnings have given way to methodical routines and prayers for sleep. We haven't quite mastered sleeping through the night yet, but he's done it, and continues to do it. He just likes to trip things up a bit every now and then with a 2:30 wake-up call.

One could say that I've gradually become more accustomed to motherhood, however time has not cured my incessant paranoia. I'm pretty sure I've diagnosed him with every disease from Asbestos Poisoning, to Lupus, to Restless Leg Syndrome and everything in between. My current mission: Flat Head Syndrome. No matter how I position that boy, he loves loves loves to sleep with his head turned to the left. Now, I know what you're all saying. "It's fine, it happens to all babies, when they start to sit up and roll it'll even out." Well, that's all fine and good, but until that happens, (which according to my handy dandy milestone chart is between 4 and 6 months) I'll be investigating new ways to inflate that side of his head. Within reason of course. :)

Speaking of milestones, on June 12th, at what was perhaps the height of my paranoid state Harrison looked straight at me, laughed AND smiled. It was at that moment I TRULY felt like a mother and I knew Harrison was officially "in the world". There will probably never be another moment that precious and genuine again in my life, but I bet he'll surprise me. The only thing cuter is Tony's face when Harrison smiles at him. Such a wonderful and proud Daddy. Those smiles eventually gave way to abundant laughter, which is heart melting, and happens with more frequency. I mean, what can I say, Tony and I are pretty hilarious. You can't blame the kid.

Three Months of Motherhood Discoveries

  • Naptime will only occur if you walk in circles in the house and DON'T stop no matter what. The minute you sit, consider naptime OVER.
  • The days of getting dressed in one fell swoop are over. First, I shower. Playtime, feeding time, naptime. Then I can dry my hair. Playtime, distractions, fussiness. Then I can put on my makeup. Even then, I'm not fully put together seeing as how I went out yesterday with mascara on only one eye.
  • Speaking of makeup, Harrison thinks he has two mommies. There's the one that gets him up in the morning and dresses him. Her face is quite blank. She's a little scary. Not too many smiles happening for that Mommy. But when the second Mommy shows up, he notices that this one has eyes that he can look at. And shiny lips. Much more pleasant Mommy. Not so much of an eye sore Mommy. Well, and yesterday, I was obviously the one-eyed Mommy. I think I'm developing schizophrenia.
  • My son is a complete angel anywhere in public. Except Target. Every time I have set foot in that God forsaken place, he screams at one point. This occurs usually when I'm in the clothes section. Better hustle over to the frozen foods.
  • Cribs only work at night. Period.
  • 5:30-7:00 pm is his personal Witching Hour. Nothing pleases him. This is when I drink wine.
  • Absolutely NO kisses for baby after he eats. Unless you like the taste of regurgitated formula.
  • And finally, why didn't someone inform me of these permanent 10 pounds stuck to my arse?? I did not sign up for an extra ten pounds. How selfish, you know, my kid could've used those ten pounds in utero, but NOOOOO....stuck to my arse they will remain. I'll show those pounds. Just find me a diet where I can continue with my Witching Happy Hour.
Three and a half months of stresses and joys have passed us by. We anxiously await the new surprises and moments we know Harrison will bless us with. We just hope to enjoy them on a full nights sleep.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

The Ants Go Marching

The details in this story are true and accurate, and have not been elaborated. No names have been changed to protect the innocent. No one's innocent in this story.

Murphy's Law. I have been a victim of it for 31 years. Because of this fated victimization, I have been deemed an Anti-Optimist. Which I prefer to call a "Realist." Anything that can go wrong...will. Famous lines by Thomas Moore:

I never had a slice of bread
Particularly large and wide
That did not fall upon the floor
And always on the buttered side.

Tony and I make the WILD and CRAZY decision to attempt a little rice cereal in the little man's formula. I wouldn't have done this for sleeping purposes alone, but I did read that it helps poor little reflux babies keep their food down and comfortably so. After the previous night of bi-hourly eating and crying, we were fit to be tied, therefore, fit to mix in a little of the good stuff.  Anxiously feeding him, and anxiously awaiting the coma we hoped would ensue, he finishes his dinner and goes right to bed. Not a peep. This is usual for his last feeding at 10:00. Let the countdown begin. Like giddy, pre-Christmas children, we rush to get to bed, praying for the gift of REM sleep for the first time in 7 weeks. Tony passes out in under two minutes, I tidy up the kitchen and prepare two bottles. There was a tidbit of my positivity coming out. Only preparing two bottles. The Self Fulfilling Prophecy MUST work at some point. 

I hop into bed, update my Facebook, turn on Friends, and .............. What the hell was that??? I felt something on my neck. Having itched from imaginary bugs before in a non-drug induced state, I confidently went back to Facebooking. Hey, maybe even spend some QT with the hubs, if you know what I mean...wink wink........OUCH!!! Again, I feel it. This time burning. Lots of burning!! I reach for the lamp and nudge Sleeping Beauty to my left. 
"Is there something crawling on my back??"

Holy Mary Mother of God, he pulls off an ant without missing a beat. And another. And another.  
I EJECT from the bed, and do that familiar dance that people do when covered with crawling things. Kind of like doing an Irish Jig on crack. Hop, hop, itch itch, front, back, top, bottom. I strip off my nightgown, not even taking time to suck in my stomach which I normally do to make myself feel better, and shake it like a maddened beast. As I return bedside, there it is. (Insert dramatic music here.) A trail of what must've been 300 ants coming from the baseboard, up the bedskirt, and right up under my pillow where my ill-fated head was resting. What on EARTH is under my pillow that is so attractive to ants you ask? Nothing. These must be the vicious, torturous ants that get a rise off of harassing innocent sleepers.  Meanwhile, in rushes Tony the Ant Warrior armed with his deadly Dustbuster. He starts sucking them to death, now all the while poor Harrison is TRYING to sleep through the night. At least we pray.

A few stirs here and there, but he's still way out of it. Phew...we must forge on! Kill the ants!! (Here comes the worry aforementioned in my previous blog) But wait!!! Are the ants going to kill the baby?? I envisioned a trail of helmet wearing ants as long as the Great Wall of China, leading up into my baby's crib attacking his every extremity. They'd probably snatch his remaining testicle!! KILL THE ANTS!!!

After a good 3o minutes of Dustbusting, I go out on a limb and suggest we get some ant spray, bait, traps, ANYTHING!!! Tony continues to Bust away. I think I saw a gleam in his eye as he continued his seek and destroy mission. Spray would just take the fun out of watching them being sucked up into the cyclone of ant death. Now, I credit my wonderful husband for always attempting to solve problems with a minimal expenditure of energy. An excellent time manager, he's always seeking shortcuts, but the repercussions of this battle would have to be prevented with diligence! After an ant bit him on his badonkadonk, he was finally convinced we needed to arm ourselves with poison, so he goes to get dressed. **Time elapsed 4 minutes** I walk into the closet and he's casually thumbing through his repertoire of collared shirts in an effort to find his best ensemble for Wal Mart.... at midnight! WHAT?? I frantically point to a t-shirt sitting on his dresser and yell for him to GOOOOOOO!! 

Dustbusting, yelling, Irish's still in ZZZZZZZZZZZ Land. Phew! 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Where's Tony?? I hear the text message. I read the text message. 

"Pulled over." 

Murphy's Law has struck again. 15 minutes later, here he comes with ant traps and spray in one hand, citation in the other. We change the sheets, surround ourselves with traps, and hop into bed. Only this time, I'm sleeping on HIS side of the bed in the event the ants have a National Guard that steps in when the full timers have been defeated. Alas, the sleep we've been needing for over 24 hours has arrived. We pass out sans wink-winking.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Harrison requests room service. So much for rice cereal. Murphy's Law is too busy marching three by three, hurrah, hurrah. 

Only, nobody's stopping to climb any trees. Damn ants. 


Monday, June 1, 2009

Three's Company

Can't believe we've made it two months. Half of me can't believe we've come this far this fast, and the other half feels as if I should be wiping tears of joy as Harrison crosses the stage in his cap and gown. 

As any parent of the newborn variety knows, it ain't easy, and boy has it taken it's toll on our lives in general. All I can pray for is that it's painless for him. I mean, he looks pretty comfortable...well except for today during his two month immunizations.  HONESTLY, why didn't someone prepare me for the look of horror that I can only describe as his "WTF WAS THAT???!!!" face, followed by screaming only to become limp and lifeless in my arms as if to say, "Mommy, take the pain...... away!!!!  Oh, the horror!!!"  Needless to say, we survived. Weighing in at a bountiful 8 pounds 4 ounces, he has managed to zip right off of the preemie charts and onto the term baby charts. Granted, he's only in the 3rd percentile for weight and height, but hell, I'll take it. His head on the other hand is in the 35th percentile, enough to qualify him as Harold and the Purple Crayon's replacement.  Or Stewie's, depending which cartoon suits you.

I've broken the last several weeks down into subjects as I've learned that life with a new baby is about different chunks of day. Bite off only what you can chew, but plan on biting quite a large chunk. And chew hard. And floss afterwards.

God bless Tony. There are times in the night that I don't even know I'm still alive, and he'll take care of the baby knowing full well it isn't his "turn".  And he does it quietly. If it were me, I'd be banging around like a Riverdancing Elephant just to make it known I was handling his business.  I'd like to think it's the hormones that are making me vicious. :) I knew the sleepless nights were getting to me when I microwaved an empty pyrex.  We usually fill the pyrex with water, microwave it, then set the bottle in there to warm up.  I stood there for at least three minutes wondering why the bottle wasn't getting warm.  And just when things were getting deliriously out of hand, Harrison started sleeping five hour stretches at night. This lasted long enough to rid me of the ridiculous sleep deprivation induced dreams I was having.  Some examples?  Tony leaving the baby on the floor with 19 dogs during a party, my dad's lips falling off, and most recently, me climbing a tree to meet with a squirrel for one of "our talks".  Yes folks, it is time to pop the Ambien and call it a night...or a week...whatever it takes.  But alas, we cannot. Especially since the five hour stretches have ceased and he's back to his two week old ways again.  We must pull through.  The good news is that there's a Roseanne marathon during my shift, so there's time for me to watch some dysfunction that doesn't relate to the questioning of my own parenthood. It is frustrating, however, to sit down, position the Boppy, tuck the burp cloth under his now very fatty chin, pin down his hands since he likes to do Kung Fu dining, get the bottle aimed directly in his overly rooting mouth where his head flops side to side like Shamu's best air maneuver, and then realize that the remote is in the kitchen and I'm stuck watching Sports Center from Tony's previous shift. Sh*t.

So we've overcome the incessant screaming during eating, which was heart wrenching. We've loaded him up on Prevacid and it seems to do the trick.  Well, by "the trick" I mean eliminates the crying.  I'll be sitting there in a half coma listening to the rhythmic pattern of his cute little grunt-swallow-grunt-swallow eating, and PHHHHHTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!! There comes the force of air that could power a hot air balloon and I am suddenly soaked with formula, which smells like rotting milk before it ever rots. Realizing then this might be a sign that he needs to burp, I place him lovingly on my welcoming shoulder, kiss his cute little cheek, and BLECH!! He turns his mouth just in time to feed me his Similac - bird style. Delicious. When can they start solid foods??

Hahahahahaha. Shut your mouth.

So, in an attempt to be the vigilant mother that I want to be, I purchased a backseat mirror so I can watch my boy's every move while on the road. Excuse me, WHAT IDIOT came up with this shenanigan? I have been so enraptured watching the kid sleep that I have slammed my breaks a dozen times saving us from driving up a semi's ass. Then, and tell me if you've done this, I look in the mirror, and am not satisfied with what I see, so I turn my body entirely around to look at the mirror head on. Yep, still sleeping. I'm considering installing one of those privacy windows like in a limousine.  Seriously, like I'm going to look back there and see Harrison flashing me the jazz hands.  At this rate, I'm more likely to see him shoot me the finger.

A natural born worrier, I never thought I had time to worry more. But I do. How on earth can I worry about such simple things? Oh my God, his eyes are crossed. Oh my God, he hasn't pooped.  Oh my God, he's crying. Oh my God, is he breathing? Oh thank God, he's breathing. It doesn't help the situation that he's a preemie and he might face some obstacles in development over the next year, so pair that "extra" worry with "natural" worry, and you are in serious need of Botox. A whole case of it. Tony does a good job of attempting to keep me calm, but he remains defeated. I do my best to keep a level head, and I know the worrying won't stop, but maybe there's a 12 step program I can join to help manage the insanity? My latest worry, (and he'll kill me when he's a teenager for sharing this with you) is that one of his testicles retracted. WHAT?? You might as well have told me that one of his eyeballs retracted, or an arm, or a foot. It's that serious to me! I'm sure some of you can say you know someone with that experience, and I'm sure the problem will correct itself, but seriously?? As if I have time to worry whether or not my boy will spend his life as a Eunuch.  A little dramatic, I know, but hey, it's me. Everybody, please pray for my son's testicle.

So, that concludes the experiences over the last month. Could've been more dramatic, could've been less. Either way, we're adapting to parenthood as best we know how. The Lord has blessed us with a wonderful little boy who shows us miracles everyday.  I love watching our little man grow and change, and I can't wait for those milestones to start, so the gallstones can stop. Be assured I will record every last beautiful moment with him to share with long as they don't happen in the back seat mirror of my car. 


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