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.

Last post before the hospital. Tomorrow morning, we take Gigi to day care, then proceed to the place I didn't really want to go: the operating room. I'm bummed about having to have a repeat C-section, but as long as Baby comes out healthy that's all that matters. I tell myself that it's not important how the child is born; how the child is raised is what really counts. I only get to give birth to the child once, but I get 18 years to screw up his foundations, ha ha.

Anyway, I'm running out of time when I'm allowed to eat (nothing after midnight!) and it's past my bedtime. Thanks to you all for your love and support. I may not be able to post from the hospital (the Island has a lot of things, but 'net access away from home is not plentiful), so it will be a few days before I'm back on line. Peace.

It's Official: surgery scheduled for 10 a.m. Monday. So much for my Florida football theory. Of course, factor in that the Patriots play this evening... still time to slip in under the wire!

Still no major news, sorry. Gigi is taking a nap, her Daddy is dissecting the Florida-Florida State game over the phone with his dad, and Mom and I just took a tea break after clearing stuff out of the garage. We discovered several neglected boxes, whose contents were infested by mildew and molds that were no doubt on the verge of developing the wheel and representative democracy. Euw ick.

I'm glad that the FLA-FSU game is on, because once it's over I'm free to give birth. You see, I have a theory: Gigi was two weeks late, I am convinced, because she knew Daddy was a Red Sox fan and she had the good sense to wait until the ALCS and World Series were over before making her debut. Likewise, I speculated early on that "Halley" here would wait until FLA/FSU had their matchup. Daddy roots for Florida State; his Daddy is a Gator. (Paging Dr. Freud...) So even though Florida State is having a really bad season, Halley has similar sensibilities as his big sister, and will not deprive his Daddy of a chance to exchange trash talk with Grampy. (Did I mention that my father-in-law is also a Yankee fan?)

It's the third quarter, and Florida is up 14 points. I'm going to chug down some more evening primrose oil and lift some heavy things. Maybe a newborn will cheer up my husband after his beloved Seminoles get their butts handed to them.

Went to the hospital this morning for pre-admission stuff. Nothing else to report. Didn't sleep much last night - too much tossing and turning (internally, that is). Naptime now. Ooooooog.

Happy Thanksgiving! Not much to report from The Island. They don't observe the North American holiday here - which shouldn't come as a surprise, but for some reason not everyone gets that. Think about it for a minute: anywhere they still have pictures of a European monarch on the currency, they're unlikely to celebrate the survival of colonies founded by people who ran away from Europe.

My OB visit was uneventful. I lost the two pounds I had gained last week, and Baby's heart rate is in the 130s. My blood pressure is still on the low end of normal range. Tomorrow I report to the hospital for some advance bloodwork and a consultation with the anaesthesiologist. Nice to have that chat ahead of time: "Hi, so you're going to insert a needle and catheter into my spinal column? Okay! And please don't give me any Percocet, that stuff gives me nightmares; you'll still remember this on Monday, right?"

In the meantime, my mother is laundering or vacuuming anything that will hold still long enough. She rearranged the living room furniture today. This baby had better show up soon, before Mom rebuilds the garage and resurfaces the roof. Thank God hurricane season is almost over, otherwise she'd probably be putting plywood over the windows "just in case". I am NOT complaining; just observing.

Nope, still no labor. Back to the OB tomorrow.

Epiphany du jour: I was leaning over to heft a laundry basket onto my hip, when the wait-I'm-pregnant! reflex kicked in. "You're not supposed to lift anything heavy," I said to myself. Then I said, "Hey, self, what's the worst that can happen?" Hmmm...we are now safely past Due Date. If my water breaks or I go into labor because I picked up a heavy basket, what's the big deal? So I picked up the basket without incident.
When I shared this little insight with my husband over dinner, his eyes bugged out of his head. "You did what?" Again, I asked, what's the worst that can happen?
"You throw your back out and have to spend the rest of your pregnancy in bed?!?!?"
All five and half remaining days, maximum?
"You fall and break a hip?"
I'm pregnant, I do not have osteoporosis. And I would have landed on the carpet. Not a likely scenario.
Worst case: he would have had to put the rest of the laundry away. I have faith that he could have handled that.

Today's Update: Mom got her filling redone (and an up-close and personal look at Island Time in action). I'm still home. It's still raining. I am drinking raspberry leaf tea in the hopes of getting something moving before Monday.

Stopped by the office today to drop off some paperwork (doctor's certificate for medical leave - as if I could be faking it to get maternity leave?!?!) and The Boss asked for my help: he'd misplaced his password for some of the accounting software, and could he use mine?

Possible responses:

a) what, you don't have it on a sticky note on the back of your badge with your safe combination?
b) I'm pregnant, not brain-damaged.
c) Sure, what's professional liability insurance for anyway?
d) [go rent the Terminator if you can't think of the snappy answer that goes here...I'm trying to keep this PG-13.]

Yeah, I don't think so. He was hoping to avoid loss of face by not having to admit to the techies that he couldn't remember his user ID and password. As if they don't get a million identical requests per month. As if you could lose face with people who have little to no regard for users anyway. As if you couldn't just e-mail them with "I must have typed something in wrong, I'm locked out, can you please reset my password?" As if they give a flying flip.

Nope, not missing the office at all.

Made it through one more day. Tomorrow's plans, should the Ineffable One allow it, are to take Mom to the dentist for a replacement filling. We called the "Emergency on-call Dentist" service for visitors to the island on Friday, and got an appointment for Tuesday. Island Time strikes again.

Fortunately, Mom says she is not in any pain, she just has to cut her food real small (or eat lots of soft things, like ice cream and cinnamon rolls). Of course, Mom would not likely admit to being in pain unless she had a noticable compound fracture; she'd rather be rearranging my garage or moving bookcases. You know the gag about how many Jewish mothers it takes to screw in a lightbulb (None, dahling, I'll just sit here in the dark...)? Yeah, you get the idea.

Due Date Today. It started off raining and crummy. For the past two nights, I haven't fallen asleep until after 2 a.m. For all my complaining about feeling like I have a bowling ball resting on my bladder, I am more upset at the fates for my other-brother-Darryl and his wife, who are not having a baby in April after all, it turns out. My husband's best friend is in the hospital, several hundred miles away, with a blood clot in his lung.
And yet, we are grateful.
Probably the only thing that kept me from going completely ballistic navigating island traffic in the rain this morning was having read this, courtesy of a reference from other-brother-Darryl's website, before leaving the house.
The sun is out now. I'm going to attempt to remain upright for a while longer, and maybe read something that doesn't have cartoon illustrations or a rhyme scheme.
There is nothing quite like the gift of perspective.