Super Fly

For those of you that have been 3 of my avid followers since I started blogging in 2009, you will remember the day of dread that was Gracie’s ascent and then “The Decent down Mt. Cribrail”. It started a fun 18 month period in which Gracie basically refused to sleep in her own bed after I converted the crib to the toddler bed.  In her succinct opinion, I had “broken the bed” and there was no going back.  We spent the next 18 months fighting the battle of sleeping on her floor (defeat), spending all hours of the night putting her back into her bed (defeat), and finally accepting the fact that she would be sleeping with the dogs in our floor (victory?). Well the fun is about to begin again; someone has gone mountaineering again.

No one in this house sleeps! Sophie can't figure out day and night, and refuses to take a bottle. So , of course I am the evil one because I can't lactate.  Trust me, If i could I would get my nipples waxed so Sophie had a clear path and Emilee could get some rest. 

Gracie, as ever, is a horrible sleeper.  We could always depend on the Golden Boy though! Gage would go to sleep at 7pm and we were good until at least 7am.  He may get up, but he was always able to entertain himself and would eventually fall back asleep.  Until he went full blown Jimmy Snuka Monday night.

They called him “Super Fly” because he would launch himself off of the top rope onto his wrestling opponents.  When Gracie decided to go over the top, she did so by climbing on items in the crib and rolling herself over the top.  Not Gage! We heard the first thump and by the time we got to the stairs he was at the top looking down at us; mocking us.  We knew we were jobbed at that point.  But I thought we might still have some options.  I could remove everything from the crib and he would not be able to climb out.  That theory was quickly shot down when I realized there was nothing in his crib at the time of escape.

Emilee and I did some frantic brain storming and realized that the pack and play was deeper than the crib and would give us a stop gap.  At least we would have a couple of days to get the conversion kit order and maybe get one or two nights sleep before nighttime got super difficult again.  So, I set up the pack and play, anchored it, placed our sweet little angel in it and exited the room.  We have a video monitor and were watching smugly as we thought we had the issue solved.   That’s when we watched him bow his legs, jump, pull with his arms, and launch himself over the top rail.  I was proud and deeply saddened at the same time. The only thing missing was Roddy Piper laying on the mat getting a flying head butt!

So now we live in a world in which Gage is free to roam at night… And, he knows how to take off his diaper now… And, he’s not even interested in potty training.

No one will be safe; not me, not you, no one!

Keep Smiling,

Rob 

Head First

I guess it’s called being a boy.  Head first into everything.  Apparently no fear.  Boo boo’s and bleeding soon forgotten.  As long as I can climb it, I will try.  As long as I’m still conscious, I will plot the next challenge. As long as I can walk away, I will try it again.  As long as mom doesn’t decide to wrap me in bubble wrap and duct tape me to the couch, I will try dumb things.  I am boy, hear me cry; at least until I forget it hurts.

I mean, aren’t we raised to believe in the words of Shane Falco….

              

At least that’s what we start to believe as we get into organized sports and start to want to impress our friends and those of the opposite sex. We are basically wired for it.  The bigger the gash, the more stitches (stitches are cool).  The bigger the cast, the more people can sign.  The more bone poking out… Well that one actually hurts for real.

I want Gage to be a devil may care type of individual.  I want him to take chances, within reason, and I want him to feel like anything is possible. But, I would also like him to have all of his teeth and not have any permanent facial scars at the old age of two.  I would like to see him not truly disfigure himself until he decides that the tattoo/piercing life is for him. His constant desire to run headlong into anything, like Gracie on the swing, is going to make that a tight race.

I also want Emilee to feel secure in the fact that Gage is not trying to kill himself, or kill her via heart attack.  His back-flips, which don’t quite have full rotation yet, off of the couch or his head first forays onto the dog crates cause her to believe that he really does have a death wish.  I know that we are simply dealing with a kid that does not know that pain hurts yet.  We typically don’t learn that lesson until we hit about 30 and are still trying to play in pick up football games; or so I have been told. But, Emilee doesn’t fully trust that Gage is firing on all cylinders.  And, that’s because of Gracie.

She may strike a tough pose from time to time, but Gracie is the kind of kid that if she even thinks she might fall she wants to go ahead and prophylactically place the Band-Aid.  We have 18 different ice packs at home, all princess themed, because of her.  A simple fall and the following conversation happens:

AG: Daddy I fell and have blood.

Me: Have blood?

AG: Can’t you I have blood pouring through my skin?

Me: You mean the red spot?
AG: DADDY! I am bleeding to death and need a Band-Aid.

                                                  Me: Of course you do.

Band-Aid is then applied and all is well. I’m pretty sure the kid could have a compound fracture and a Band-Aid would make the pain go away.

But Gage is a different animal. I think he actually likes the taste of his own blood. He busted his lip pretty good, and after 30 seconds of good old crying, he realized that he could suck on his lip and taste it.  Then he would smile! Reminded me of me. Seriously, what true guy hasn’t done the same thing?  I just hope he doesn’t decide to try “other brands”.  The dogs and his sisters might be in trouble.

Keep Smiling,

Rob

               

 PS – I am still considering the Bazaar.

The Bazaar

How much?  That’s the question I was asking myself again.  How much for a white female newborn?  I have had these thoughts before.  I have even blogged about these thoughts before.  But, I could not get the thought of a Middle Eastern bazaar out of my head, and the nomadic Arab traders that I would be selling my screaming non-consolable daughter to.  And then I remembered my old trick... Bad late night TV.

Bad late night TV got me through the terroristic hold Gracie’s crying had on me.  Nights when I was scared to fall asleep because I knew that the screaming would start.  Nights I knew would never end.  Nights I was sure that would turn me into a raging lunatic.  Bad late night TV got me through the random nights I was up with Gage. Fortunately for Gage, he did most of his crying before bed time and sanity was able to return each night.  But not now, nights don’t end again.  But maybe bad late night TV can help.

The problem is this… I don’t have cable anymore. 

So, I courageously turn to Netflix and say a silent prayer. There is hope, Netflix has plenty of bad TV options.  But they also have plenty of good TV options.  So what do I do?  I know I will never find another “Alone in the Wilderness”.  Instead, I found Narcos. Can’t beat violence and drugs and Pablo Escobar!

I love TV like this.  You get to learn something and be entertained at the same time.  There is some fact checking that has to go on due to some artistic license that is taken, but it is generally accurate.  It gives a great description of what was going on during the days of the Medellin cartel and the DEA/Colombian government effort to rid themselves of the problem.  Pretty amazing the amount of violence and corruption that occurred.  Makes you happy to be born a 1^st world citizen.

At its height, the cartel was bringing in $60 mil A DAY! It got so big and profitable that at one point Pablo offered to pay off the entire Colombian government’s debt to gain amnesty.  He got turned down, but that is some serious cash.  Of course it ended badly for Escobar, but it’s an interesting story.  And, he made the current scum running the current drug operations around the world looks like amateurs.  Something to think about anyway.

I don’t know when the crying stopped exactly.  I heard Emilee’s voice calling down the basement steps to check on us and I realized it was quiet and Sophie was asleep curled up on my chest.  Peaceful, still, and beautiful.  The thoughts of the bazaar have retreated far into the fog of my 5 AM haze.  But, I still have its address remembered for the next time!

Stay Safe!

Rob

Day Six and Good Things

“Hey, tomorrow is Day 6.” 

Those were Emilee’s words to me last Tuesday night.  I of course asked what the heck she meant, and was reminded as to how hormonally insane she became on “Day 6” of our other two visits to the post-partum parade ground.  At least I got a warning this time.  The crying at the fact that it started to rain our way to Target, or the completed irrational hatred for me because I couldn’t breast feed did not catch me by surprise this time.  A little warning is always a good thing.

These have been many good things that have happened over the past twelve days.  Most importantly Sophie came home healthy after going through the aquarium treatment.  I really have great things to say about the staff at North Fulton.  They were very helpful and supportive throughout our experience there.  Even the lactation consultant.  This ladies job is to basically make mom feel inadequate while cramming baby’s head into her boob.  And all you can do as Dad is watch because if you try to speak up they both turn on you.  I’m pretty sure Emilee made her first comment about “if you can’t do the job yourself, keep quiet” at about this point.

I have also had a chance to really see what Gage is all about.  I am usually at work when he is going about his day, and I do not always get the chance to spend as much time with him as I would like. He is talking more, super energetic, and a head trauma waiting to happen. The kid has a new bruise or bump or welt every day.  I am pretty sure the authorities would haul us away if they saw him some days.  But, he usually just gives a disgusted look that he was slowed for a moment and continues to move forward; head first of course. We also have to keep him from inadvertently killing his little sister with a flying phone or sippy cup.

We have also seen Gracie really develop her Jekyll and Hyde personalities.  When she is at school or karate she is little miss angel.  When she hits the door she is hell on wheels. We are playing the “how many times can I get dent to my room in a day” game.  But, she has been really good around Sophie.  As sure as I am that Sophie’s arrival has kicked our little maniac into action, I am equally sure that she is happy for the arrival of her little sister.  She has been super helpful with all things Sophie.  I just hope she isn’t secretly plotting something.

And, Emilee had her lithotripsy today.  It appears to have gone well, and hopefully this part of the saga can be over soon.  Now all that is left is to pass the broken stone fragments and get the stent removed.  So, as long as all of that goes to plan we can start the pain free (physically at least) trek toward creating the perfect child…

Or at least our version of her.

Keep Smiling,

Rob

The Aquarium

So here we are looking at a contraption that looks like a giant fish aquarium.  It’s the Drager Photo Therapy 4000.  Better known as a UV light machine, it is helping Sophie get the excess bilirubin in her body broken down so she can get rid of it.  It is also what has us spending another night in the luxuriousness that is an L&D Postpartum suite at North Fulton. Don’t get me wrong, the staff here is AMAZING!  They are attentive, polite, empathetic, friendly, and supportive.  The bed and “man chair” that Em and I are tortured by are a different story.  Let’s just say this for the “man-chair”, it is covered in a material that can only be described as nauga-plastic; very comfy!

But let me tell you how we got here…

Sophie Brooke was born at 6:08 am after Emilee was in labor for about 10 hours.  It really wasn’t supposed to be that long, as she had seen her OB earlier in the day and he told her to come in so they could help it along.  But, with Pebbles and the stent (see Round 3), her OB thought that it would be a good idea to get everything in motion since she had already started.  So after a long night we welcomed Sophie.

We had a pretty quiet day after Sophie got here.  Matt had come up the night before to give us his and Jill’s love and support, and we had family through during the day in nicely spread out intervals.  Em’s mom was with us at delivery, and then her Dad and my family came by later; it was very relaxed.  This struck us as a huge contrast as to when Gracie was born.  There must have been 50 people that came by that day.  People that we weren’t even sure we knew in some cases. That was fun, but this was way more relaxing.  We even continued our tradition of having Longhorn for dinner!

The fun was when our sitter (and adopted child) Emily brought Gracie and Gage up to meet their sister. Gracie wanted to know when “her new baby” was coming home and Gage just stared in wonderment.  He had a “WTF is this and what is happening” kind of look on his face.  Then he was distracted by a NERF ball and was fine; at least until he beaned his new sister in the head with it.  I guess we are going to have to live by the “no blood, no foul” rule.

But today things changed a bit.  Sophie didn’t do so well on her hearing test.  Probably just fluid that will dry out, but it could also be the Bozicevich women’s trait of having an excuse not to listen!  I am praying for the fluid excuse.  And then we found out that she would have to spend at least one day in the aquarium.  All signs point to this is just a small bump in the road. But when you have your new kid in front of you, all bumps seem to be mountains.

Overall she is healthy.  I really want to thank all of you who have reached out to tell us how beautiful you think our new addition is.  I’m the skeptical one here though.  I mean, what you are going to say to new parents? I just can’t hear the following in my head:

                WOW! That’s one ugly baby!

                I didn’t know she could have a head that shape.

                Bless Her Heart! (OK, maybe this one)

                Which end is up?

Anyway, we should get to go home soon and I will continue to update our escapades. Here a couple pics for ya.

Keep Smiling,

Rob