Am I a Grinch, or is this just totally wrong?

Since I'm too tired and brain-dead to be funny, here's a link to someone else you can laugh at in the meantime. Enjoy. (Thanks to my homegirl Amilah for the tip.)

Hello again from the land of the sleep-deprived. I have been cooped up in the house (mostly) with a sick toddler and a gassy infant, along with my equally stir-crazy husband and my mother. Plus I've been on antibiotics, so I can't even drown my sorrows in spiked egg nog.
Of course, my husband has been putting up with the kids, his ailing wife, and his mother-in-law for this period. Not that anyone is keeping score or anything, but I'm sure that your sympathy meters are registering just as strong for him.
Little Gigi did not have thrush, it turns out. It was something called herpangina and it was equally unpleasant but required less medication. She has her appetite back and it's no longer painful for her to eat. I am determined to get her back to school tomorrow even if it kills us both. The incubation period is over, her fever is gone, and the nursery has had plenty of time to disinfect the joint in her absence. If she isn't back in school tomorrow, so help me, I'm staying in bed all day.
Go ahead, call the Bad Mommy Cops on me; I doubt they'll even give me a warning.

Chappy Chanukah!

Sick Bay Update: I had my "two-week" checkup yesterday. The doc says I have a low-grade infection around my incision area, so I'm on antibiotics and an antifungal lotion for the next ten days. I will spare you gory details. You're welcome.
At the same time, 25-month-old Gigi has apparently developed thrush. This has been unofficially diagnosed by phone with my brother-in-law "Uncle George", the doctor. For two days we thought Gigi was just having wicked teething pain, until Grandma pointed out the white coating on her tongue. Ah, so that's what's making her howl like a lunatic. And Baby Halley has been very gassy of late, so I have screaming kids on each side of my lap for full stereophonic effect.
The good news is that I'm allowed to drive now. I had to promise my mom I wouldn't take advantage of this to run away from home. (How far can I run? We're on an island...) As a gesture of good faith, I bought her some egg nog yesterday and showed her where the rum is. (Updside of island life: plentiful supplies of good rum!)

Some numbers, for those who are interested: When Baby was born, two weeks ago, his stats were as follows: Apgar scores 9 and 10; weight 7 lbs 3 oz; length 18 1/2 inches; head circumference 14 3/4 inches. Not too shabby! When we left the hospital, he was down to 6 lbs 12 oz. Last week he was back to 7 lbs even.
Today was two-week checkup day, and the numbers are in: 7 lbs 13 oz (Yowza!), length 20 inches, head circumference 15 inches.
I am NOT returning phone calls from Barry Bonds.

For my Big Brother, a special interest piece.

"Right on track. Perfect." So declared the nurse at Baby's one-week checkup today. He has regained most of his birthweight. His eyes appear to have settled on a dark brown that matches mine. He sleeps, eats and poops prodigiously. Not much else to report.

I got my staples out today. That was something I'd been looking forward to for about six days. The nurse at my doctor's office wasn't as effusive as the pediatric nurse, but said my healing was progressing nicely. The painkillers continue to be necessary, but effective. And now, back to resting.

Paging Phillip Pullman...

Home at last, home at last! My baby boy is healthy and beautiful. He arrived Monday at 12:25 in the afternoon (that's a 10:50 operating room slot, on Island Time). He was about 18 1/2 inches long, 7 pounds, 3 ounces, with sandy brown hair and eyes like the sea after a storm.

Only when speaking of a baby can I say both that he is beautiful and that he looks like a cross between Kevin Spacey and Mr. Magoo.

The hospital experience - surgery and aftercare - was surprisingly positive. I definitely went in with a better attitude this time, and since there weren't any concerns about baby's size and weight, I wasn't being woken up every two hours to nurse. He slept a lot, and I slept a lot. I am definitely recuperating better this time than the first time around.

We came home on Thursday, and I've been trying to rest. But in truth, I really don't feel all that bad. Two years ago at this time, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. This time, comparatively, the truck just brushed past me. I'm still taking painkillers (nothing narcotic, just your basic weapons-grade Tylenol and anti-inflammatories), I get tired easily, and I'm moving verrrrrry slowwwwly. It's taken me an hour to type this post. And now I need a nap.