Elliot's Eye Surgery

Wednesday at 10 am.
Please have Elliot in your thoughts and prayers.
Both eyes will be operated on.

He'll be home with me for two weeks following to avoid dirt or water in the eyes.

Hopefully after this, he'll be able to see better, walk better, and even play and create better. We're hopeful that this is the right thing for him.

More tomorrow.

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Today is my birthday. I finish the day feeling a bit overwhelmed and quite tired.
It's been a mixed bag:
Equal parts surprise and pain- flowers from my co-workers delivered to me in my jammies, hand-made cards from my favorite preschoolers, homemade chocolate cake and delicious Thai lunch with my hubby, and other thoughtful gestures throughout the day...

And in between all those happy moments there was my brother, struggling with being the possibility of being committed for the second time in as many weeks, calling from the psych ward, crying parents, hearts breaking (no one wanting to tell me anything to spare me on "my day.").

Ending the day waiting 3 hours for a doctor to perform a delicate surgery on my lil' El tomorrow.
I hope the rest of the year is more surprise than pain. I feel a year older already.

Ollie's five week stats

11 pounds, 12 oz. (90%ile)
22.5" long (75%ile)

Shots in three weeks)-;

Ana the Professional

Her first answer to What do you want to be when you Grow Up?
Mail Carrier

Since then, she's stated at random moments, being an archaelogist and surfer.

My favorite: An Inch Looker, after measuring something an inch long (namely a cut on her aunt Gigi's foot).

And tonight: She'll have Three jobs. She'll go to one on Friday, one on Sunday and the other on Friday (yes again on Friday). They are:
A scientist
A jungle swinger (just like her mama(-;)
A teacher

Love it!

One month update

It's hard to believe that you're one month old already, Oliver. The time has flown by, but we've enjoyed very minute of you. To me, you're such a calm little guy, but then again, my only job right now is you, and I'm thoroughly wrapped up in you. Dare I say, the phrase, Why not four? has come up. (Referrals to mental health agencies welcome. And urologists for that up-and-coming snip, right Kev???).

Exciting developments- Now that you're a month old, your eyes are open more and more.

Elliot's observation: His eyes open now! I think somewhere in there, he's been afraid that you'd only sleep and eat forever. We love seeing those big brown eyes. Your "whites" are still slighty yellow from the jaundice that the ped. promises will leave in a couple more weeks.

You LOVE to nurse, and are never far from me. Your feeding cue: a throat-clearing kind of noise that you do continually until your needs are met. We really enjoy replicating that around the house.

When you get frustrated, your first bellow turns you beet-red; you typically calm yourself down within a short period, which always surprises and impresses us.

You're not sleeping during mealtime as much, but you are sleeping quite a bit. Night-time is a blur to me still...you sleep with us most nights. I don't notice if it's been a "good" or "bad" night...just feed you while I sleep if need be, and catch up on zzzzs during the day. Maternity leave is such a luxury, and I try to enjoy each day that I'm home with you.

You smile in your sleep and we all crowd around to see if another will come. Sometimes you get a "superfrown" or as Tita calls them: cucharitas (little spoons). Those are fun too, as I wonder what you could be thinking of to evoke such a sad, sad reaction--a world without breasts? John McCain as President?

Elliot greets you with "Hello, little guy" with a voice that is so sugary sweet. Ana plays mama with, "Hello, my sweetheart." She's now brimming with ideas of what you could be for Halloween. Don't worry, I'll protect you(-; Her favorite behavior of yours: rooting until you find skin, especially if it's our cheeks and noses.

I love seeing your poses with those mitts: both hands over head (stick-em-up style), mitts over eyes, or mitt-to-mitt as you lie on your side. I pose around the house with our fingers stuck together in "mitt poses." I guess it's the opposite of Spirit Fingers.

I'd forgotten how much little babies bring people together. Perfect strangers say hello, or want to peek at you. My favorite is when ladies bless you...as in "God bless you and your baby. "

It makes me wonder if we need to horde those blessings given so freely in our early years for later use. The world becomes less kind as we grow older, but couldn't we all use some blessings, given from folks who don't know anything of us but that we exist. Still they wish for us, these other perfect strangers, that things will go smoothly, that we will be healthy and loved, and that our needs will be met? Well, for now, my boy, I can assure you of those things, but only for this brief period. And I plan on cherishing every moment that I can shield you from everything else.

The Last Mo

When confronted with a multitude of choices, problem-solving Ana's solution, every time:

Let's see who's the Last Mo?

As in Eeny, Meanie, Miny, Mo.

Hope that helps you tackle a problem today.

Little Mama

She burps him...

She holds him...

She sings him to sleep...

And can't seem to let him go at the end of the day...

Ana, what a sweet little mama you are to your new brother. I couldn't do it without you...

Anarchists Group, Hands Not Mitts, Strikes Again!

Revolutionaries known as Hands Not Mitts struck again!

Led by front man, known only by his first name, Elliot,

this so-called liberation group, disarmed another unknowing infant:

There is no confirmation as to why this specific infant has been targeted almost to exclusion of all others over the last two weeks. And while Hands, Not Mitts does not make its organizational goals known, it's suspected that there is an underlying belief that one should be free to explore with ones hands. With this strong photographic evidence, the cute culprit is sure to be caught.

What else is there

to the day than watching you drift into dreams as you nuzzle my breast, holding you with one arm and smelling your sweet intoxicating almond-breath, anticipating that hearty belch, then falling into sleep myself with you curled up right there, face glazed with milk?