Happy Due Date Mac!

You weigh more than 7 lbs.

You consume 3 oz per feeding.

You wake up to eat.

You can nurse.

You wear Newborn clothes.

You are awake 3 or so hours a day after feedings.

Good growing.

Tiger's birthday party

Traditionally, I make a train cake for birthdays around here. Well, for everyone's birthday but my own. See this post. But with all the craziness around here, coupled with my exhaustion and lack of 3 hours in a row to do anything, I decided to get a store-bought cake for Tiger this year. B.A.R. (of his own initiative) selected and purchased one while at the store picking up something else.

Tiger was absolutely thrilled with his Thomas & Friends cake! Thanks B.A.R. for making my life less stressful and making Tiger's birthday enjoyable.


Well, at least Blanket had a good time.

Happy Birthday to Whom?

Why to Tiger, of course. Happy Fourth!

1 week

1 year

2 years

3 years

Mac at 5 weeks

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. Mac did come home from the hospital on 2/2/10.
He came complete with oxygen tank,
and pulse oxymeter that is inaccurate, excessively sensitive, not sensitive enough, or just bent on waking us up every 20 minutes all night long.
He weighed about 5 lbs 13 oz when he came home from the hospital. He needs to go see the doc every week for weight checks for a while. He consumes 2-2.5 oz of fortified breast milk every 3-4 hours. He is beginning to wake up for feedings, though it isn't consistent and he must be woken and encouraged to eat most of the time.

I used to spend 3-5 hours a day at the hospital with him and pumped every 3 hours for 20 min or so. Since I turned in my superhero cape I actually spend more time in my new role as chambermaid now. I spend 30-45 minutes every 3 hours feeding him with a bottle/changing his diaper, then I pump for 15-20 minutes. I am locked in his room during this time so that Blanket and Tiger don't share their colds with him. Also, his need for oxygen limits his movements around the house somewhat. I sleep in the same room with him because it is the only way I am assured of waking to attend to his nighttime needs. The bed in my room is so comfortable (its a Tempur-Pedic) that I sleep through his nocturnal demands for food even with a baby monitor strapped to my ear.

Additonally, I have measure and mix fortifier into his food. I have to wash all the feeding supplies, and play mom when I am not busy with Mac. Oh, and I have to try and nap some too due to the 3-4 hours of sleep each night I am not getting, due to the aforementioned hour-long feeding ritual established.

Milestones we're looking forward to:

• getting rid of the oxygen tank and meter.
• RSV season to be over so that we can go anywhere.
• to not have to fortify milk, so that feedings can be simple 20 minute affairs.

Mac at 4 weeks

Weighs 5 lbs 13 oz.

Has been circumcised.

Has had 1 vaccination.

Takes almost 2 oz from a bottle.

Is no longer officially a premie.

Will likely be home in a week--just in time for Tiger's birthday.

Where do I turn in my cape?

'Cause I'm all done. Well, mentally all done. I'm all done being a superhero. I'm ready to have one identity. I'm ready to not have to go sneaking off for covert operations (at NICU). I'm ready to be with all my kids simultaneously. I'm ready to put away my alter-ego and put on the same face for everyone.

Each day I go to the NICU it becomes harder to leave. I think it was easy in the beginning because he was fragile and needed lots of things that I couldn't give him. As he gets closer and closer to coming home, and I can care for him mostly, I just want him home. I know he will come home when he is ready. But I am ready now. Doesn't that count for something?

Maybe this is my final month of pregnancy. You know, where you are sooooo ready to be done that you will do anything to have the baby. This is the month where the anticipation is starting to get to you, and you are ready to have your "normal" life back. That's how I feel. I can see my due date (coming home) approaching, but I don't know exactly when it will be. I look forward to it with fear, joy, excitement and relief. I just want it to get here. I'm mentally all done waiting.

Where do I turn in my cape?

He belongs

in the family. Do you see the resemblance? Here are 2 pictures each of Blanket and Tiger when they were very young. Which one do you think looks most like Mac? Vote in the poll.

Tiger 1 month

Blanket 1 month

Blanket 2 months

Tiger 1 week

Mac at 3 weeks

More progress.

He's in a bassinet.

He rarely needs his hat.

The only tubes he has are oxygen and feeding.

Premie clothes don't fit anymore (he's too long).

He weighs 5 lbs.

He wakes to be fed 4-6 times a day.

He drinks entire feedings from a bottle.

He looks fat.

"She said I had a double chin. She said I looked fat."

(Name that movie, or give me the next line from that movie in the comments)

Pet Peeve

That's right, I have one. Tardiness. As simple as that. I hate it when people are late. I hate it when I am late. Hate it. I think it is disrespectful to be tardy. You don't respect the other person's time as valuable if you are late.

While I was growing up, my mother taught me, "If you're not 5 minutes early, then you are late. If you are going to be late then you shouldn't go." We were always on time. ALWAYS. For everything. So on time, in fact, that my friends attempted to teach me how to be fashionably late. I still can't do that comfortably.

These days people ask me how I can be on time to church (as early as 8:30) with 2 little kids. Not just on time, early. Every Sunday. Every single one. It's simple. I plan to be early. I schedule time to be on time. I schedule the 5 minutes it takes to get to church. I schedule the 5 minutes it takes to get everyone loaded and strapped into the car. I schedule breakfast, showers, getting dressed, and I schedule extra time in case of tantrums, meltdowns and clothing/hair malfunctions. I make sure I have time for all those things to happen, and time for the unexpected.

If you know me you know I plan (schedule) very few things. Because if I make an appointment I have to be on time for it. It stresses me out to be late. My planner is very vacant.

I like the freedom of a to-do list. I like to make a suggested list of activities that is free of time constraints. Appointments leave open the option of being late; and I can't have that.

As a teenager one of my friends was constantly late. Her whole family was late. We used to joke that the problem was so bad they would be late to their own funerals. They simply didn't practice the art of being on time.

Once, her dad was supposed to take us to the airport so that we could go on vacation together. We agreed upon a time that would get us to the airport with plenty of time for check-in and security. I even had included a 20-30 min "time buffer" in case of traffic problems or other unforeseen disasters. I didn't schedule the disaster of them being late.

Needless to say, they were late picking me up. I don't remember how late it was, but I think it was more than 45 minutes.

When I called my mom after we got to our destination (we did make our flight) she told me she was sorry they were late. I asked her how she knew they had been late: she had been at work. She told me about the mess I had made in the living room with a deck of cards and the furniture. I had been playing solitaire while I waited and waited. I had gotten so mad I literally shuffled the deck of cards into the air and let it rain all over the furniture, repeatedly. The mess spoke volumes to my mom about how late they had been.

I still get really ticked when people are really late. REALLY TICKED!!!!

I say all this because I realized last night that I didn't just snap when they weren't feeding my son. I started to get mad when he wasn't fed at feeding time. The longer I waited the madder I was getting. I just didn't let it get to me for the first 20 minutes or so. Instead, I gave them the chance to make it right for that long.

It's like watching your kid do something that will eventually end badly. They do it repeatedly without the consequences until the last time wherein they get an sudden, unexpected result.

I should have seen the snap coming, but I didn't.

The burr gets under my metaphorical saddle as soon as "on time" stops and "late" begins. My level of frustration, disappointment, and feeling of disrespect is exponentially relational to the amount of time by which one is tardy for my appointment. Which explains why I was still just "warm" at 20 minutes late and "LIVID" at 30 minutes late.

If I have ever been late for an appointment with you, I apologize. I was probably already mad at myself for not being on time. If you need me to be on time for an appointment, just let me know. But don't ever, EVER, make an appointment with me and then disrespect me by being preventably late. I don't forget it when people are late. And I really don't like it either.

A Passive Aggressive Note from Mac

To whom it may concern:

My mommy is explosive. Handle me with care.

Mac.