Baby/Mama Drama, or the Lack Thereof

If this pregnancy has been characterized by anything, it's a distinct lack of drama. Sure, you could chalk my lack of pregnancy-related posts up to the fact that the blog is about three years old, and I post less often. Or it could be that we haven't had a new ultrasound appointment every four weeks. Or that no one has flipped out about this kid being too big, or too small, or not having enough room, or whatever other thing will drive us nuts for a few days. And that lack of drama isn't coming from us. Hollie and I were fully prepared to indulge in every crazy swing of medical opinion the second time around.

Thankfully, the docs at Penn Medicine seem to be largely sane, reasonable people who don't freak us out every other appointment.

That is, until yesterday, when a slightly overzealous, overly excitable student midwife sent us to the hospital when Hollie said that maybe, perhaps, possibly she's felt our son kick moderately less frequently than he had been doing in the previous few weeks.

Evidently, according to the midwife we've been seeing most frequently, the magic words are "less frequently." So off we went to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

It should be said: As much as we hoped to just be on our way after this routine appointment, there were significant advantages to a brief sojourn at the hospital, such as:

1. I haven't actually been to this hospital before, despite its location about four blocks from my office. Much like our one-week-from-the-end false alarm during LG's time in Casa de Hollie, it let us preview the hospital at a slightly less stressful time.
2. I now know where to park. Score.
3. I now know where the maternity ward is located.
4. I now know where the visitor's lounge is located.
5. I now know where to get Potbelly subs.
6. I now, finally, have an ultrasound picture of our son.

Boom.

It's hard to tell if he's sucking his thumb or trying to punch the ultrasound wand in the face.

The hospital monitored the baby's heartrate, Hollie's heartrate, and the sporadic contractions she's been feeling for almost two weeks. Following those tests, she had an ultrasound. It should be said, the purpose of this ultrasound was NOT so we could get a picture. But I wasn't going to pass up the chance to grab one, and the tech helpfully obliged. Many thanks, goofy HUP ultrasound tech!

Oh, did I mention the tech was a little weird? Yeah, we had a nice little chat about Obama's mother, anthropology, the tech's family who lives in Kenya (the tech was Caucasian, it should be noted), the fact that she thinks amniotic fluid viewed via ultrasound looks like a star-filled sky, and other things I'm totally forgetting because the conversation was all over the place.

All in all, the trip to the hospital took about two hours and cost us $7 for parking. But we got a picture and a hospital preview, so whether or not it was absolutely necessary, it was totally worth it.

A letter to my unborn son: 10 Reasons You Should Try to be Born Today

Dear G2,

Yes, I realize you're not technically due until March 28, and with every passing day it seems more likely that we'll have to wait 'til then to meet you. But if you'll indulge me, I'd like to make a case for why it wouldn't be such a bad thing to be born today.

1. It's the last day of Winter! It's the first day of Spring! It's crazy confusing, but it's sort of neat. Most of the time, the Vernal Equinox happens on March 20, like today, when it officially happened at 7:02 a.m. Then every once in a while, like 2007, the Equinox will fall on March 21, and it'll make you wonder whether or not you've been imagining your birthday's significance your whole life.

2. A bunch of really cool people were born on March 20. It may not mean much to you now, but it's epically cool to share a birthday with Mr. Rogers and Big Bird. (Side note: I'm going to try very hard to make you understand how awesome Fred Rogers was. We could all stand to be better neighbors.) And if that doesn't doesn't do it for you, maybe you'll appreciate sharing a birthday with the 10th Doctor's second companion, Martha Jones (or at least Freema Agyeman). (Another side note: if you can't come today, wait 'til Friday. It's Captain Kirk's birthday. Not William Shatner. JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK!)

3. You can get free Rita's Water Ice on March 20 and pretend they made a holiday just for you.

4. You'll be a cusp sign of Pisces/Aries. Super confusing, at least to any of your friends who are super into the Zodiac. They'll spend hours trying to draw a star chart for you, and you can just laugh and doodle a fish with a goat's head. Good times.

5. Your mom is tired, and would like to bring you into the world ASAP. The whole let's-pretend-I'm-coming-out for 4-6 hours every other evening is getting a little old. You can do better.

6. I'd like to introduce you to the joys of Cherry Black Forest Cake. Your mom isn't wild about chocolate cake and your sister apparently doesn't like cherries. You're my last hope.

7. Albert Einstein published his general theory of relativity today in 1916. This is pretty significant, and will mean a lot more when I'm helping you with your physics homework in 16 years or so.

8. Here's a good reason you should be born in the next 8 hours or so. There's a good chance we're going to get slushy accumulation overnight tonight, so I'd rather get your mom to the hospital before that happens. Got it? Thanks.

9. As long as your mom doesn't go into labor in the next few hours, I'm going to see Demetri Martin in person at the bookstore next to my office. How cool would it be if that were only the second most awesome thing to happen today? Pretty awesome, is the answer to that question.

10. In addition to the cool people I mentioned above, it's my birthday today. And I can't imagine a better gift than meeting you. Come on out and scream, "hi!" It'll be a good day, I promise.

You've got 13 hours or so. Get to it, buddy.

Sincerely,
Your Father

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Technically, G2 isn't scheduled to arrive until March 28, which is nine days from now. That said, LG was 10 days early, and Hollie started feeling some contractions more than a week ago. Given those facts, and the natural urge to want to meet our son, we're getting a bit antsy at Casa Griffatolo.

I mean, there are only so many ways to explain to a 2-and-a-half-year-old kid that her little brother is coming soon before she loses any sense of what those words mean. She can see that her mother's belly is bigger, and she knows (because we've told her) that her brother is in there. But it's all sort of abstract, to say the least. Heck, it's sort of abstract to me, and I have some idea of what's happening.

That said, she does have some notion of what's coming, and it's shown through in odd ways. For instance, when we brought baby stuff (e.g., Rock n' Play, baby swing, car seat) out of the attic, she wanted to put her baby doll in all of these things. But it didn't end there.

We may need to establish some ground rules concerning acceptable baby receptacles.

And the last time she got into her Play-Doh, she wanted to use her Mr. Potato Head parts to make baby brothers.

Which is exactly as creepy as it sounds.

What can you expect, though? The feeling of "what's next?" has permeated the air at our house.

Addressing the to-do list I posted last time, we've done practically everything except get the oven fixed (still my fault). We've cleaned, cooked, celebrated my birthday (early), and we're almost totally sickness free (the occasional cough notwithstanding). We've even jumped ahead a few weeks and made some Easter finery.

Division of labor in our house: Hollie made the hat, I made the bow tie.

Now that I think about it, the fact that I made his Easter outfit probably dooms us to a late delivery after the holiday.

Get a move on, G2. I spent like half an hour on that thing.

What to Expect in the Last Month of Expecting (and After)

G2's due date is March 28. With less than a month to go until his arrival, I've started mentally dividing my future plans into two categories: "before 2 kids" and "after 2 kids." There are things that I NEED to get done before G2 gets here and things that will undeniably occur afterward. (Of course, I say undeniably because we expect him to hold to his due date or earlier. He could surprise us and show up late, but for Hollie's sake, I hope not.) There are also significant (to me anyway) dates on the calendar that are going to happen when they happen, because that's how time works.

So without further ado, my life divided into two lists.

B2K

• Raise the crib to its highest level.
• Get a pile of things out of the attic and wash them (Rock n' Play, baby swing, infant clothes, etc.)
• It would be nice to stock the freezer with more food we can easily thaw, reheat and eat. I was much better about this the first time around.
• Speaking of the previous item, I need to get the oven fixed. It's been broken since November. I hate dealing with repairmen.
• Expunge sickness from my house. We're just now getting to the end of another round of everyone being sick. This needs to end, NOW. I do not want to deal with this crap with a newborn in the house. All viruses and bacteria, you have been warned. I will terminate with extreme prejudice, and copious DayQuil and antibiotics.
• Part of the above item: Aggressively clean the entire house.
• Cram in as much Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword as is reasonable, cuz I won't have time for video games that can't be played on an iPhone once the kid gets here. (Yes, I realize this game is more than two years old. I have a toddler. Don't judge me.
• Celebrate 33rd birthday. Celebrate is a strong word. I don't think I'll have time for celebration, even if G2 waits until after March 20 to arrive. Dutifully acknowledge my 33rd birthday?
• Finish LG's potty training. It would be nice to have only one set of diapers to change.

A2K

• Finish LG's potty training. Yeah, I hold no illusions that potty training will survive the impact of a baby brother entering LG's life.
• Re-arrange the kids' room. We need to make room for the crib AND toddler bed by replacing the futon with a comfortable chair (that hopefully turns into a bed).
• Doctor Who returns March 30!
• Celebrate Easter, though in what capacity, I have no idea. At the very least, LG will hunt for eggs in the backyard, provided it's not too cold or rainy.
• Movies I want to see, but will probably not see (at least not in theaters): Iron Man 3, Star Trek into Darkness, Man of Steel.

If it seems that the A2K list is a little pop culture heavy, it's only because of the season. It's summer blockbuster season in the age of the geek! I'm always going to miss something, but I can't think of a better reason to do so than integrating G2 into our lives.

There's Always Someone Cooler than You

Early in Hollie's first pregnancy, I spilled some digital ink over the subject of LG's (then unknown) gender. I went to even greater lengths once we discovered she was a girl.

But, having known for a while now that we're having a boy, I haven't really talked about what that means to me. To be fair, much of the existential hand wringing I did before LG's birth was because I didn't have any idea what being a parent was like, day to day. Turns out, you spend so much time worrying about feeding, clothing and otherwise keeping the kid alive that most of the intellectual stuff goes out the window. (Which is not to say I don't still worry about what growing up as a girl in 2013 means; I just don't write about it because of the aforementioned day-to-day raising of said girl.)

And so it goes through this pregnancy. I was so happy to find out G2 is a boy. As I told quite a few people at the time, a boy would give me a sense of balance. In the game of LIFE, I'd have a car with two blue pegs and two pink pegs. At the very least, my OCD tendencies could calm down for 5 seconds. Those somewhat bizarre feelings aside, I haven't found the time or the words to articulate all the thoughts bouncing around in my brain about what having a son means to me.

It means equal parts terror and concern for 12-to-16-year-old G2.

Because when I think about my son, I don't see him as an infant, toddler or even a grade schooler. I see him as a pre-teen and teenager. Why? Because if any one stretch of my life felt emotionally hard, it was those years.

I take it as a foregone conclusion that my children will be awkward. I was an awkward kid, and in some many ways, I'm an awkward adult. I'm slightly more aware of it now, perhaps, but no less awkward for the self-awareness. For my daughter, I don't know what that awkwardness will bring, because I was not a girl. I don't know what being the weird kid means for a girl. I'm VERY aware of what being the weird kid means for a boy.

It means getting picked on in gym class, and in the locker room.

It means having kids try to cheat off your tests, not necessarily because you're the smart one (though you may be), but because you lack the self-confidence rat them out or to tell them to stop.

It means worrying about getting a date to a dance, because how are you going muster up the strength to ask that question of someone you like?

(I'm quickly realizing that these apply equally to girls. Listen up, LG. This is for you, too.)

But however awkward he turns out, I'd like G2 to know that it really doesn't matter, because happiness and weirdness are not mutually exclusive. Those years may have been tough, by some definition, but they were filled with moments of supreme joy. Such is the manic nature of the young brain. Any given day might hold the worst things and the best things.

Besides, adolescence is going to be tough no matter who you are. The bullies in gym class? For some of them, that's as high on the food chain as they'll rise. The ones cheating off your test? They're terrified of failure in a why you'll never be.

And dates? Well, getting a date just sucks, and you have to suffer through it like we all did. Sorry.

Blogging Tweets & Facebook Posts: The Internet Collapses Into Itself

One of the things I struggle with as a blogger (even one as unreliable as me) in this ever-connected world is whether or not I should share a particular piece of information via the blog or some other social platform. If I snap a cute picture of LG on my phone, can I write a story about it, or should I just post it to Facebook? If she utters an utterly jaw-dropping non-sequitur in the car, will I remember it to write about later, or should I tweet it immediately?

Granted, social media is my actual job, so it's possible I think about this more than most people.

But the biggest problem with sharing these awesome experiences on Facebook and Twitter is that those platforms are ephemeral. With the blog, I've got a great archive (however spotty) of the weird and wacky things my kid says and does.

So in an effort to collect these recollections in one place, I now present the first blog post dedicated to the random quotes, pictures and stories that have appeared elsewhere. Fair game: My Facebook, Hollie's Facebook and my (languishing) Twitter feed.

1/15/2011 - Matt's Twitter
My daughter and my vehicle inspection were both due in September. Guess which one happened and which one I just got pulled over for.

1/27/2011 - Matt's Twitter
My wife tells me I'm not allowed to tweet about poop. This is not such a tweet. But man, if I was allowed, would I have a crazy tweet!

3/11/2011 - Matt's Twitter
I realize it is unreasonable to expect this every night, but LG just woke up from 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep IN HER CRIB. #happydance

6/6/2011 - Matt's Twitter
LG's third tooth just popped through. If I do my job as a parent correctly, she will never have fewer teeth than this.

7/26/2011 - Matt's Twitter
My baby thinks she's a dog and my dog thinks she's people. In related news I need to babyproof the dog's bowl and dogproof the diaper bag.

9/20/2011 - Matt's Twitter
And the streak is over. On her 373rd day, LG got sick.

12/3/2011 - Matt's Twitter
LG slept on her hair funny last night, such that it looks like she's wearing a Bumpit (TM).

12/12/2011 - Matt's Facebook
Hollie isn't feeling well, and her voice has been giving out from time to time. As I was getting LG out of her carseat, the following conversation transpired.

Hollie: I hope I have what she had (LG was sick last week), so she doesn't get sick.
Me: I don't know. She didn't sound hoarse at all when she was sick.
LG: Neigh! Neigh!

12/14/2011 - Hollie's Facebook
Awesome morning with the little one. We "brushed the teeth" of every toy in the house. This basically consisted of going over to every toy, smacking it in the mouth-area with her old infant toothbrush, and shouting "TEETH!"

12/14/2012 - Matt's Twitter
Apparently my daughter has said "apple" and "teeth" today. I miss being home with her.

12/14/2011 - Hollie's Facebook
Animals with clean mouths: teddy bears, baby dolls, santa pillow, snoopy, dinosaur, and of course bugs. Yes, our bugs have the cleanest teeth. :)

2/9/2012 - Matt's Twitter
LG prefers her kids songs to the radio in the car, but then La Bamba came on and she happily sang to herself. I don't know what that means.

3/13/2012 - Hollie's Facebook
We found a spinosaurus, a hadrosaur, an ankylosaurus, a stegosaurus and a velociraptor all before lunch. Hey, paleontologists, you're looking in the wrong place. Our sandbox is apparently THE dig site.

3/19/2012 - Matt's Twitter
Last day of winter, 5:56 pm. Awesome.

4/25/2012 - Hollie's Facebook
All afternoon, LG picks up maple seeds all over the lawn, holds them above her head and shouts "BABY TREE!"
This may be my proudest moment as a mother. :)

6/6/2012 - Matt's Facebook
Behold! A picture of something I made sitting on another something I made! One is infinitely cuter, and it's the one with which I had help from Hollie.

Hint: it's the one in the hat.

7/13/2012 - Hollie's Facebook
I have never seen a child so distraught as mine at the thought of three little kittens being denied pie. She says "no pie" with all the empathy a toddler can muster.

10/8/2012 - Matt's Facebook
LG: this is my skull. (points to top of head)
Hollie: it protects your brain.
LG: like a helmet. It's my brain helmet.

Your skull: it's like a brain helmet.

10/12/2012 - Hollie's Facebook
LG and I played hide and seek at the park this afternoon. Can you find her?

10/15/2012 - Matt's Facebook
This picture just about sums up the weekend.

But to belabor the point: pumpkin pancakes, wagon ride to pumpkin patch, pumpkin picking, hay maze, corn maze, slow cooker chili, making chicken stock, stacking firewood, building a scarecrow, carving pumpkins (with a Dremel, thankyouverymuch).

11/25/2012 - Matt's Facebook
I am a paleontologist. 

(That's what I am. That's what I am.)

12/17/2012 - Matt's Facebook
LG: Daddy, this is my flower.
Me: It's beautiful! What color is it?
LG It's purple, and his name is Andrew.

1/5/2013 - Matt's Facebook
Me: If you want a milkshake, you have to eat more of your French fries.

I am an excellent father.

1/6/2013 - Hollie's Facebook
My child has her preggo mom's number.

LG in Target: "Look! Cookies to share with mama!"

Guess who is munching a cookie right now?

1/18/2013 - Matt's Facebook
My parents may be the only people who appreciate the significance of this, but it pleases me to no end that LG spent most of the car ride home tonight singing Roger Miller's "Do Wacka Do," and asking to hear it over and over.

1/23/2013 - Hollie's Facebook
Storytime with LG

LG: There was a green bug, and he said, "Oh my! My foot hurts!"
Mama: Why did his foot hurt?
LG: Because a crab pinched his toes. He went to the doctor and said, "Oh my! My foot hurts! I need a band aid." The doctor gave him a band aid. He said, "Oh my! That feels better."

The End.

1/27/2013 - Matt's Facebook
Sports with LG

This morning we played a game she invented called "soccer."

First you hit the soccer ball (plastic pear) with the baseball bat (plastic cucumber).

If you're lucky, you hit the pins (6 Weebles arranged in a triangle).

Run. Scream. Repeat.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

LG's mama here.  Given the topic of this post, Matt can claim little expertise so I am taking over for a time.  Matt is knowledgeable on just about any topic- and even if he's not he can fake it with the best of them.  However, hair is not one of those topics. (Insert Matt-is-bald joke and high hat crescendo here.)

I am not much more qualified to discuss appropriate hair styling. When I was little, my mother and I engaged in many a lengthy battle about my hair and the brushing thereof.  She put up a good fight, but I definitely went to school more than once with a head full of knots and who knows what else. Eventually things evened out, but when I took a job where I would be surrounded by animals and children, the messy ponytail took a firm hold.  Currently, I am rocking a Rogue-esque gray streak which I have convinced myself I aesthetically enjoy and is not the result of me being too lazy to get my hair dyed to cover it.

LG's hair has been a source of never ending joy and frustration to both Matt and I.  The old wives tale that predicted that my child would be born with a full head of hair as indicated by my pregnancy heartburn proved to be pretty accurate. More accurate in fact than what most of the doctors predicted about LG.

Her first day home, and already she made the house more fabulous.

Her hair then took a turn for the awkward. We were warned that she could lose some of those flowing locks as she grew.  I assumed it was an all or nothing proposition.  What we really got was a Peter Boyle thing going on.

Picture her tap dancing to "Putting on the Ritz" or yelling at Ray Romano. Your choice.

To cement the ridiculousness of this hairstory, there was also has a horseshoe shaped bald spot on the back of  her head from sleeping in the greatest technological advance in baby-sleeping ever- her Rock 'n' Play Sleeper.  She slept like the proverbial baby, but suffered the indignity of having a reverse receding hairline on the back of her noggin.You can't see it in too many pictures.  Perhaps she was too self conscious about it.

Then things got awesome.

Real awesome.

Baby Fauxhawk. 'Nuff Said.

Morning, noon, and night, her hair was at attention.

While I loved the fact that her hair was always ready for a rockin' party, I was starting to get worried that her hair would continue to grow up and not down. What do you do if that happens?  Invest in Dep gel and spike it like your life depends on it?  Pull a Sinead and shave it down?  Hide it under a Blossom hat? (Why are all my solutions 90s trends?)  I needn't have worried.  Her hair eventually settled into the most adorable pixie do all on its own.  People pay big money for their hair to do what LG's did naturally. 

The pouty cuteness is unbearable in this one.

The next stage in her hair development still gives Matt the shakes. Her hair kept growing- I've been told if you feed kids, these sorts of things are bound to happen. That would be fine, but it got to ragamuffin levels.  (If I'm not in the 1990s, I'm in the 1490s...) She has a wicked cowlick at the back of her head, and all the hair grew at different rates.  It drove me batty.  I can't tell you why strands of hair in her face bugged me so much, but they did.  Up to this point, we had never subjected her to big ol' bows and flowers on her head and only slapped a clip in her hair for special occasions.These sorts of things have just never been on my radar. I am a jeans, t-shirt, no makeup sort of girl.  I only got a grown-up hair stylist at the ripe old age of 29.   But some switch was flipped, and I turned into crazy pageant mom when her hair was messy and in her face. (Though, that is an exaggeration. For the record, I do not endorse tanning, flippers, or hair extensions.) I'm not proud of it. I can pretend it was born of necessity, but really, once I discovered she would willingly let me put in pigtails, ponytails, and more, it was a labor of love.  I loved the bouncy pigtails and messy up-dos.  Her face was just too cute to hide behind a wall of hair. And, when I found G2 was going to be a boy, it reached a fevered pitch. Like I said, she didn't really fight me on it.  I would usually get the whole shebang done before she was finished eating her waffle in the morning.  Yes, I would do her hair while she was strapped in her high chair and very distracted.  Don't judge until you see how cute it looked.

I was particularly proud of the braids.

No harm no foul. Until I had to be at work before she woke up.  In such cases, it became Daddy's job to tame the bedhead.  It was not pretty. I won't go into too many details- mainly because it really works Matt up.  For a man who's attention to detail when folding paper or wrapping a present is headachingly perfect, it was amazing how little hair actually made it into the rubberband when he was at the helm.

Because of this great divide, I finally conceded that she needed a haircut. I had been trimming her bangs for months. She didn't fight me, I only cut them slightly too short once, and her eyeballs are still intact. Matt claimed this was not enough and she needed a "real" haircut. I pushed the main event off until after Christmas because I didn't want it to be "Bad Haircut Christmas" when we looked back at the pictures. That day will come, but I wasn't ready yet.  I was nervous for lots of reasons.  I was afraid she would have one of those little kid mullets you see everywhere. I was scared she would flip out having a stranger come at her with scissors and would end up with half a haircut.  Logically, I know hair grows back.  I have had my fair share of bad haircuts, and haven't really sweated them.  I always shrugged them off and busted out the bobby pins. It was time to put that "logic" to the test.

We settled on Kids Kuts despite its poor spelling skillz because they let the kids sit in a car or on an animal while they get their hair cut. Seems fun, right? Observations from the event:

• Apparently only dads take their sons to haircuts. And, each time the stylist asked the dads what they wanted for their sons, they all shrugged and grunted "A boy haircut."  Apparently this is universally understood by hairdressers.
• Little boys will scream like they are being tortured when they get their hair cut.  
• Toys in the waiting room of a hairdressers skeeve me out only slightly less than the toys at the doctor's office.
•  Matt and I have serious stylist bias.  Independently, we were both silently hoping for the stylist with the nose ring and black hair instead of the one with the dark roots and blond ponytail.  Our wish was granted.
• I think it's weird to keep a lock of hair from a kid's first hair cut.  At the Academy, we have a book of presidential hair.  It's exactly what it sounds like. Visitors love this book of little bundles of hair from people who are long dead.  It weirds me out. I couldn't think of anything else when the stylist asked me if I wanted a lock of hair.

Kids Kuts was a great choice.  She loved sitting on the frog to get her hair cut and as luck would have it, they were showing The Muppets on the big screen in front of her.  She was quiet and patient, and the stylist was perfect.  She got exactly what I was asking for, and didn't waste time trying to butter the kid up.  She got in and out.

Bless you Muppeteers for making our lives just a little easier once again.

And the result was adorable.

The lollipop was just gravy after a ride on the froggie.

I think we'll keep up this style for a while.  I'll miss the pigtails, and I will forever be a little bummed that she got Matt's poker straight hair and none of my wild, wavy hair. Regardless of the state of her locks, she'll always be an amazing kid who's funny, brilliant, charming, loving and beautiful.

Even when her hair looks like this.

BONUS HAIR OUTTAKES!