Pacifiers

Neither Arthur nor Stephen would have anything to do with pacifiers, but they have proven useful with Elizabeth.

Update: 4/20 -- as with many things, Elizabeth seems to have changed her mind about this.

The fleas are back.

Stephen is 4

Our contribution to the haul: Hot Wheels dinosaur Trick Tracks set. Star Wars Sarlacc Pit set. Hot Wheels color changers cars and "car wash." Mace Windu lightsaber. Plastic toy bow and arrow.

Pirate-themed cake and pinata

Guests: Mason and Sagely, Luke and Micah

Bad Dad

3 am last night, Mimi finds Elizabeth in bed with me, face down, with her head almost (Mimi would say not almost) under a pillow. I'm not going to be winning any SIDS safety awards.

Elizabeth Jane mannerism

Our daughter does this cute thing where she will pop one or both eyes open and, if she sees you looking back at her, she'll immediately scrunch her eyes shut. It's almost like she's pretending to sleep until you look away.

Three weeks later: we started this blog to help us remember things, but still I have no visual memory of this.

Elizabeth Jane

Contractions start at 2 am, stop, then start again at 7 am. They are irregular (4-12 minute intervals) and short (~20 seconds.) Mimi's online search suggests this is not the real thing. On the other hand, the mucus plug went the day before. She calls to get the doctor paged, and it takes over an hour and a second page to get this response: if you think you're in labor, come in and we'll get this thing done, since I'd rather do it now than at 3 am. After my dad arrives to watch the kids, we head off to the hospital in the late morning (~11 am?). It is cold, in the 20s. Mimi tells me to take Detroit, not Parkdale (too bumpy), and since I'm underslept, I immediately and instinctively start to take Parkdale until Mimi stops me. As we approach 13 Mile, the low fuel warning goes on. Half-convinced we're going to get sent home from the hospital anyway and certainly in no danger of a car birth, we stop and get gas. At Beaumont, I pull into the South Deck and make two circuits around level 2, but Mimi thinks the second circuit is level 3. At registration, there is much confusion over whether Mimi is a Morris, a Kim, or a Morris-Kim. On reasons for visit, Mimi checks off, "Baby not moving as much as usual" under the impression that this was an either/or question (with the other option being, "Baby not moving.") In waiting, we read the Free Press -- the mayor of Romulus, spurned by George Clooney, tries to arrange to have him pulled over for speeding. In triage, the resident finds Mimi 2 cm dilated and 100% effaced, so it's a go. We make a command decision to forgo tubal ligation. Mimi decides that Doris Kearns Goodwin will be too tough afterwards and asks me to get Duma Key when I go home later for the boys. I run back to the car to get the camera, am told by the resident that cameras are technically forbidden in the OR but bring it anyway. 1:40 pm. 8 lbs 5 ozs. 19 in. When it's over we go to recovery where there is momentary uncertainty over "Elizabeth" vs "Elisabeth" and I flaunt my hospital knowhow by turning off the piped music. We go to our room, 6327. I flash my employee ID at the nurse in order to convince her I can help transfer Mimi from the stretcher to the bed. I leave to get the boys and find the house a disaster area. Stephen has emptied the toy chest (apparently so that he could hide inside it). After rejecting a couple of other dinner options, we end up at go-eat, which my mom isn't sure is celebratory enough. Kids are pretty great in visit despite our paranoid insistence they use antibacterial hand foam every few minutes. They enjoy raiding the pantry for popsicles and holding Elizabeth (at which point I realize I left the camera at home). Arthur insists he won the birthday prediction bet exactly (he actually guessed tomorrow, but he's still closest), so we are to stop at Kroger to buy popsicles. We bring home Elizabeth's footprint card to compare to Arthur and Stephen's. On our way out, we go by the nursery, but there are no babies there. I explain to the boys that the babies are only there when their mommies are asleep, and so the mommies must be all awake right now. We get home. Arthur poos. I have to auger the toilet. Basement is flooded. At bedtime, we read Icky Sticky Frog and Caps for Sale.

Vow of Silence

This evening, inspired by the Magic Flute, Arthur said he would take a vow of silence for a week. Failing that after about 5 seconds, he then tried for the rest of the day. Eventually, we convinced him to try to keep quiet for about 3 minutes, which he managed after a couple false starts.