He's so gorgeous. Born last week in a dramatic and emergency C-section, 8 lbs 1 oz, 21.75 inches long. Matt and I are so in love with him. He likes cuddling in the frog position. Matt's taking millions of photos and videos, and I'm trying to get over the swelling of surgery...ugh.
We're emailing photos if you want them - none here, ever.
He's a ringer for Matt's baby photo. We just can't get over how perfect he turned out. Mmm, love.
Ah, my little frog is crying. More soon....
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Well, I've Done It Again
Yes, I'm still pregnant and no, I don't want to talk about it.
I disturbed nature again this afternoon. If you all remember, I ran off some baby birds last summer (and, as you also may remember, I wasn't terribly fond of the particular "breed," especially those who still call drunk around Midnight).
Today, I think I slowly killed a caterpillar clinging to my tomato plant.
I'm pretty sure I identified it from photos online: a hawkworm (soon to be a moth that gets inside and eats my sweaters, so what am I really worrying about; and, yes, I have an exorbitant amount of time on my hands right now).
The poor thing had rows of small, white fuzzy things covering it (I won't say the word, but I think they become flies), so to rescue it, I got a twig and gently (this is where plans went awry) massaged them off.
Green "blood" started oozing out; I said, "Sorry!" and ran inside the house.
If I have a prissy little girl who's afraid of bugs, I won't want to talk about that, either.
I disturbed nature again this afternoon. If you all remember, I ran off some baby birds last summer (and, as you also may remember, I wasn't terribly fond of the particular "breed," especially those who still call drunk around Midnight).
Today, I think I slowly killed a caterpillar clinging to my tomato plant.
I'm pretty sure I identified it from photos online: a hawkworm (soon to be a moth that gets inside and eats my sweaters, so what am I really worrying about; and, yes, I have an exorbitant amount of time on my hands right now).
The poor thing had rows of small, white fuzzy things covering it (I won't say the word, but I think they become flies), so to rescue it, I got a twig and gently (this is where plans went awry) massaged them off.
Green "blood" started oozing out; I said, "Sorry!" and ran inside the house.
If I have a prissy little girl who's afraid of bugs, I won't want to talk about that, either.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Nothing is haaaaaappening...
This baby doesn't want to come out. I scheduled inducement today, just in case. My only choices were September 11 (no thanks) or ... my birthday. Hopefully it'll come before then.
A couple of girlfriends have said, "How can you call the baby an "it???"" I replied, "I could call it a fork, and it wouldn't know the difference." Yes, it is a he or she, a boy or girl, a Sam or a Harper, but I get tired of saying that. Plus, it kicks me.
I'm already on "maternity leave," which basically means I'm cleaning the house. I won't recognize "nesting" when it hits me, because I'm always nesting. Cleaning floorboards or the fridge are common events. Sometimes I hate that I best identify with Monica on Friends. She speaks and I think, "Well, yeah!"
And I'm saddened to say that I've seen more Friends episodes than ever before during this pregnancy. Matt turns the remote control over to me around Midnight, and I feel so alone in the world. "You're not going to sleep, leaving me to my insomnia, are you? Can't you, um, try to make it through Frasier, honey? Honey? ... Honey?"
Samantha Brown on the Travel Channel still has my dream career.
Matt can't wait to float me down the Salmon River, and I can't wait to go. Our child (It) has every travel-gear item known to babykind, and we look forward to using them! We were supposed to hit the family Christmas in Sun Valley, but I don't want to be "that woman" on the airplane: It crying its little head off, and people slaying us with hateful looks. 3-months-old is a bit young for frequent flier points, anyway.
Yeah, I'm bored, but I'm enjoying the quiet. I'm trying to write as much as possible. I'm selling most of my cds (hundreds), and looking forward to the weightlessness. The Tragically Hip will be staying with me.
Things are simply great, fat belly and all.
A couple of girlfriends have said, "How can you call the baby an "it???"" I replied, "I could call it a fork, and it wouldn't know the difference." Yes, it is a he or she, a boy or girl, a Sam or a Harper, but I get tired of saying that. Plus, it kicks me.
I'm already on "maternity leave," which basically means I'm cleaning the house. I won't recognize "nesting" when it hits me, because I'm always nesting. Cleaning floorboards or the fridge are common events. Sometimes I hate that I best identify with Monica on Friends. She speaks and I think, "Well, yeah!"
And I'm saddened to say that I've seen more Friends episodes than ever before during this pregnancy. Matt turns the remote control over to me around Midnight, and I feel so alone in the world. "You're not going to sleep, leaving me to my insomnia, are you? Can't you, um, try to make it through Frasier, honey? Honey? ... Honey?"
Samantha Brown on the Travel Channel still has my dream career.
Matt can't wait to float me down the Salmon River, and I can't wait to go. Our child (It) has every travel-gear item known to babykind, and we look forward to using them! We were supposed to hit the family Christmas in Sun Valley, but I don't want to be "that woman" on the airplane: It crying its little head off, and people slaying us with hateful looks. 3-months-old is a bit young for frequent flier points, anyway.
Yeah, I'm bored, but I'm enjoying the quiet. I'm trying to write as much as possible. I'm selling most of my cds (hundreds), and looking forward to the weightlessness. The Tragically Hip will be staying with me.
Things are simply great, fat belly and all.
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