The First Week

Upon finding both boys down on their hands and knees, peering at a cheerful, kicking Lambchop on the quilt on the floor of the living room, I asked them what they were doing.

Ramekin: Mommy, we're just looking at Lambchop because she's so beautiful.

Me, speechless.

Needless to say, things are going pretty darn well, all things considered.

The boys adore her, and don't seem to mind the attention she requires.

Like Boo before her, she's not a crier, only crying when she wants our attention and usually stopping instantly when she's picked up. My midwife even remarked on how easy she was to calm with a bit of head rubbing by mommy when she was being examined.

The exception, of course, comes when her eyes are bigger than her head and she insists on more food, even though I suspect/know it's not a great idea. Then we get a bit of wind, and resulting upset. It's an occasional issue only, though, and we're working on finding the right balance re when to humor her and when to try to distract her from wanting more.

Lambchop, while a typically confused newbie when it comes to sleep --clearly believing that daytime is for lots of sleep, with intermittant alert cuteness, and nighttime between 11:00 pm and 3:00 am is for a bit of fussing for cuddles-- is actually a good little sleeper. Like all babies, when the option is available, she loves being cuddled while she sleeps. But G and I knew not to cater to this at all times so she'll be a good overall sleeper. And she already is, I think. She's currently sacked out in her moses basket upstairs. And she'll happily sleep in her bouncy chair for a few hours at a time, or on a cool quilt on the living room floor in front of the slightly breezy open patio doors (we're having a heatwave here). And I think I've already cracked the nighttime solution, believe it or not, after discovering she prefers to sleep on her side after feeding.

She's obviously a good eater, based on her grumblings for extra feedings at times, happy to inhale any offered formula or pumped milk.

needless to say, we are grateful that the healthy formula option exists. As for breastmilk, well, mine didn't come in like it should have. Again. Which wasn't really surprising, and almost comedic, since I've done this baby thing twice before and the same thing happened both times. Hence, starting formula within an hour of birth for Lambchop and Boo before her. But I am managing to pump out about a full feed's worth a day now in total, and I think I can get it up to almost two if I keep at it. So at least she's getting the benefit of enough immunity protection to keep her healthy and enough volume to keep her growing.

And if my boys aren't considered the epitome of healthy children, having been started off the same way, then there's no such thing as healthy children. Because save for the occasional runny nose, neither of my boys have been sick since early December (1/2 day, Ramekin), or October (1/2 day, Boo)!

Defensive position over. ;-)

So it's going well. G is still off this week on paternity leave, which is nice. And we putted around with Lambchop yesterday afternoon doing some errands while the boys were at nursery. She slept through the whole trip, except for our mid-afternoon stop at a cafe where we all had a leisurely lunch.

Of course, I fully expect things to get more hectic when G goes back to work next week and I'm left in charge of three little people.

shudder

But I'll deal with that then.

Gratuitous photo op of my lovely, lovely Lambchop.

Oh, and we've almost nailed down a middle name. We're stuck between two, maybe three, at the moment. Once that happens, I plan to do a naming of the Lambchop post of some kind without actually posting her chosen name. I'll see what I can do clue-wise. Or temporary post via comment-wise. Hmmm.

And, if I can find the private time (we have inlaws with us at the moment), I'll post how well her birth went, because it was, hands down, the best labor experience I've ever had. A truly nice, calm one to end my baby-making days on.

Lambchop

Entered the world safely and quietly Tuesday morning at 3:34 am . . .

Just a few hours old . . .

Daddy's Day

Father's Day Update: G is still the father of two little boys only at the moment. Which I suspect was more than enough at 7:00 this morning when they roused him to go for their weekly 8:00 swim.

(Side proud mommy bragging notes: During my blog hiatus over March/April, I think I forgot to mention that Ramekin moved up another swim class, passing out of Stage 2 with swimming colors at the end of March while he was still only 3. So now, instead of classes with older 4s, 5 and 6 year olds, he's surrounded by 6, 7 and 8 year olds. It's interesting to watch, especially when they have to remember to raise the bottom of the class pool for him on Sunday mornings so he can reach the bottom. Quite a fish, our Ramekin.

As for BooBaaa, he's following in Ramekin's fin-steps, I believe. He won't be allowed to take actual class lessons until he turns 3 (them's the rules). But as the Stage 1 instructor, whose students didn't show up for some reason, watched him getting tossed repeatedly about the pool by G, and then using a float and noodles to kick himself around the pool, giggling wildly all the while, he commented on how competent our little guy was in the water. G agreed, and said it was a pity he had to wait until he was 3 to start taking classes. Needless to say, jaws dropped when G told him he'd only turned 2 in March, and the instructor stammered, "I thought he was 3!" It's a common mistake. Between his size (big) and his glee in the water, he's probably pretty close to being able to pass out of the Stage 1 class already.

Ok. I'll stop my mommy-bragging now. Please forgive my self-indulgence. I'm just feeling really proud of their progress at the pool...probably because they're napping at the moment and I'm not having to yell at them for driving me nuts.)

But the boys made it up to G when they got home, each presenting him with giant bars of Toblerone chocolate, which he particularly enjoys, and numerous hand-made cards they've been working on at home, at nursery, and at preschool. And a couple of painted pictures by Ramekin.

Of course they immediately wanted Daddy "to share" the chocolate . . . heh heh

So. Anyway. According to the NHS measurements, I'm officially 39 weeks today. By my calendar count, I'm 38 weeks and 2 days. Lambchop is still stubbornly incubating. But no matter. Tomorrow morning, fingers crossed, I'm going to call the delivery unit at 7:00 am on the nose regarding inducement via water breakage. I am on the list for tomorrow. (They only schedule these things Monday to Friday, 9 to 5. Go figure). But that assumes (a) my cervix checks out as ready, and (b) they haven't gotten slammed with other moms in labor.

Which I know could happen; BooBaaa was also induced at 39 weeks via water breakage alone, but we had to wait until the afternoon to have it done because they got slammed on his scheduled morning. Them's the breaks, right?

Breaks. heh heh Breaks. Get it?

Ok. Maybe not actually amusing unless you're a tired, cranky and verrrrry pregnant woman who just wants it all over and done with. And trying to pretend you're not secretly terrified about the whole thing, too.

Oh . . . and still rather annoyed with yourself because you're still struggling with your list of girly names. There are a couple of late runners on the list now, now, names that have tentatively overtaken my previous favorites. Or, I could just be tired and even more indecisive. I.Just.Don't.Know!

What I do know, or highly suspect, is that Lambchop is going to be a much loved but nameless baby for a few days after she arrives . . . hopefully she'll survive the indignity.

Please wish us luck tomorrow -- getting in and getting her out!

Yes, It's Pink. What's Your Point?

No, no. Not that. Still pregnant. And rather uncomfortably pregnant at that, seeing as Lambchop's head has descended even lower according to today's check by the local midwife. I'm now torn: do I go on a long, long walk tomorrow hoping to trigger her arrival, like I did with Ramekin. Or do I take it easy and attempt to wait until Monday's planned inducement, which will see me safely in hospital with reinforcements in the form of my BIL back at home (he arrives on Sunday to help with the boys).

Hmmmm...

Anyway, the pink I'm referring to is a small second-hand bike I recently picked up at a charity shop for a whopping £5. I couldn't resist it because, well, it was £5; upon closer inspection, the front brakes looked like they could easily be adjusted and fixed (by G, not me); training wheels could be added; and, the big selling point, its wheels were two inches smaller in diameter than Ramekin's little bike, which is just that too out of reach for BooBaaa's feet to reach the pedals. (Which he's desperate to do, despite Ramekin's attempts to thwart him --after all, it is Ramekin's bike.) And eventually, it will probably serve Lambchop's 'first bike' needs, too.

So I brought it home and scrubbed it clean. G adjusted the brakes and attached some new training wheels to it. And voilà! A BooBaaa-sized bike for him to try!

And on Saturday, he donned his bicycle helmet, climbed on excitedly, and tried it out on the driveway.

<---- And if you click on the picture to blow it up, you will see the pure joy on his little face!

Boo was so happy and proud of himself. And also a little frustrated at times as he hasn't completely mastered pedalling, especially 'uphill'. But it's coming, and I suspect he'll be whizzing around the driveway sooner rather than later.

Not to be outdone in the 'trying something new' department, Ramekin wanted to try biking without his training wheels. So, after explaining that he would not only have to wear his helmet, but elbow and knee pads too if we removed the training wheels, G removed them so he could give it a try. And Ramekin happily climbed on and ... panicked a bit. But he insisted on trying in spite of his fear for a few runs, so long as G held on.

I wasn't quite sure he was ready, either, at first. But then G let go and Ramekin actually biked, without training wheels, down most of the driveway on his own, and stopped himself easily by putting his foot down.

And decided he wanted his training wheels back on for a little bit longer.

Which, I think, is fair enough. He did just turn four after all, and we haven't been doing a whole lot of biking this year as we've only just hit the nice weather. I think a few more weeks of summer biking with training wheels will give him the needed confidence to try again without them.

And give BooBaaa time to sort out his pedalling logistics, pink or no pink.

And then I suspect there will be no stopping the duo, who already spend a great deal of time whizzing about the neighborhood on their scooters when we go on our walks.

Oh, and have I mentioned that BooBaaa is not phased in the slightest by Ramekin's new two-wheeled laser scooter, easily manoeuvring it up and down the driveway when he gets the chance? Scarily-coordinated kid, that one. I think I'm a little afraid . .. . impressed . . . but afraid.

Still Nesting

Just like the pair of swans at Houghton Mill that we went to check on again Saturday evening after we had dinner at one of our favorite family pubs that sits in a marina in nearby Huntingdon.

I was rather hoping to see a flock of fluffy cygnets, probably to give me hope that there is indeed an end in sight to all the nesting that's clearly been going on, both in the waters at Houghton and here at home.


But when the bull swan glided across the still waters towards his partner, I thought I'd be content with a look at any eggs I can only assume are being incubated. Even though it is rather late in the season to still be egg-sitting. And I know how much G and I enjoyed our little peek at Lambchop last week when my Consultant had a quick scan to check her position.


But it was not to be. There was no "changing of the guard" so to speak while we hovered for a few minutes, hoping for a peek at what might lie underneath. Instead, the female swan pulled up a few reeds and pieces of grass while she sat there, tidying up her nest, as the bull guard glided around her keeping watch. It rather reminded me of the cleaning and re-organizing I've been doing around our own house these past few weeks.


So the boys happily ran on to play chase along the river paths. They fed ducks. They threw bread into the sky hoping a handful of little swooping terns would be able to catch them. They watched a boat move through the little loch system on the river.

All in all a nice evening out while we continue our own wait...

Battery Operated

About a month ago, G and I had (roughly) the following conversation:

Me: Could you take a look at the battery in my car?

G: Why?

Me: I don't know. I think I might need a new one soon.

G: Why do you think that? What's your car doing?

Me: Ummm, nothing specific, really. It's just a feeling I have . . . .

G: Oh....kay....

Needless to say, the subject was dropped.. I had no real reason for thinking my car's battery was on the brink, so G had no real reason to look at it. Especially since I'll be the first to admit I know pretty much nothing about cars run, beyond the turn the key in the ignition bit.

So when the dealership's service department finally got back to me yesterday afternoon, maybe I shouldn't have been that surprised when they said it wasn't the fuel pump line, which is what we thought it might be. No, it was the battery. Specifically, something about a defective cell in said battery, so it needed to be replaced.

Again, I know pretty much nothing about cars --other than how to wield my auto club card when need be-- but maybe next time G and I will listen to my "instincts", or at least give them a fair hearing.

Sigh.

On the bright side, I have transport! We picked up my car at 8:00 this bright, sunny morning, and all is now right with my world. BooBaaa and I "celebrated" the return of the Big Blue Bus by heading off to the cheapie carwash, which he absolutely loves, after dropping Ramekin off at his preschool this morning. And then we went grocery shopping, where he enchanted everyone he came in contact with as he announced he was "help[ing] Mommy shop" with a huge, cheeky smile.

He really was in top form as we cruised the aisles --Mr Happy Happy Happy-- so I was happy to add popsicles to the shopping cart to celebrate.

Because everyone knows there's nothing better than an icy cold popsicle on a hot, sunny day!

Still Waiting . . .

No, no. Not that. Lambchop is still in utero and, truthfully, I'd like her to come after Saturday morning because I have a long-booked hair appointment that morning. And who knows when I'll get another chance for a while.

No, I'm talking about my car, my Big Blue Bus. On Monday, after the boys and I visited the dentist, we took a quick 'detour' on the way home to put diesel in the Big Blue Bus. I figured I had enough time between the dentist appointment and Ramekin's afternoon preschool session to get us there and back in time to serve up lunch in between.

I'll admit, I've been a little paranoid lately about having enough fuel in the car in the event that I'll suddenly need to be somewhere --oh, say like the hospital-- only to realize that we won't make it there without stopping first to fill up. So my comfort level hasn't been letting my car's fuel level drop much beyone the quarter tank mark.

Anyway, when I got to the Tesco service station down the road, I was quite pleased to discover it wasn't that busy. I went straight to a pump, filled up my car, hopped back in, and ... sat there.

The engine was turning over, but not 'catching'. As in not starting. As in my car wouldn't move. And no matter how many times I tried to get it started, it just wasn't starting.

Crap.

So what does any 9 month stressed out pregnant woman whose car, with two toddlers strapped into their seats in the back, do when her car won't start? She calls her extremely busy husband, of course. You know, the one who's been working incredibly hard knowing he's going to be out of the office for a couple of weeks on paternity leave in the very near future, although we don't know exactly when in the future. That husband.

Poor G.

So with the boys starting to get a little edgy about our extended stay at the service station, I called him. And told him what was going on. Did he want me to call the auto club? Or did he want to come check it out for himself first, before we risked an increase in our auto club premium?

Luckily, he had a 'window' and only works about fifteen minutes from home. So, after confirming I'd done everything possible that I could do to start the car myself, he said he was on his way to have a look. (I tipped off the service station what was going on, and they were very kind about it, putting an orange pylon behind my car so nobody would bug us to move. It's not like the nine month pregnant lady was going to try to push the car out of the way, after all!)

The boys were quite excited at this point, of course. Their Daddy was coming to rescue us! I freed them from their car seats, and they squeezed into the passenger seat together to scribble on paper and await his arrival.

When G arrived, I handed over the driver's seat and watched him get the same 'no go' response that I had. Repeatedly. He checked a few things. And then he checked out the car's 'book'. And then he tried again ... and then, after a few long tries, miraculously, it started!

After much discussion, and turning it off and starting it again a few times, it was decided that there must have been an air bubble or something in the fuel line. I was so relieved; G was relieved and a bit perplexed; and the boys were really impressed that Daddy saved the day. So G went back to work; and the boys and I went home for the fastest 'snack lunch' on record so I could get Ramekin to preschool on time. My Big Blue Bus made the drop off and pick up without incident, so I was happy. And when G got home from work, he went out to start it a handful of times without incident 'to make sure'.

And all was right with the world.

So Tuesday morning, the boys and I headed off to town for our morning playgroup. There was finger painting, messy but happy boys. Then we had lunch with a friend. And then we headed back to the parking garage I was parked in so I could drive them to nursery and then head home for a few hours. I paid for our parking, loaded everyone and everything back into the car, hopped back in and ... you almost guessed it ... the car started. But something wasn't quite right ... and I reversed out of the parking space, feeling a little uneasy about the whole thing ... then moved the car mode into Drive ... moved forward a few feet, but then got nothing, zip, nada when I pushed on the accelerator.

In the middle of the parking garage. So I stopped the engine. Waited a minute. Then tried to start it again and got ... this time you guessed it... nothing.

I kid you not. The exact same thing that had happened at the service station when I turned the key --engine turning over, but not 'catching'-- was happening again. And no matter how long I tried to make it catch, it clearly just wasn't going to happen this time. So I had to call G again. Only to discover that his boss was out, as was another crucial co-worker, so he was covering for all three of them. Which meant he could not leave the office to see if he could get it going.

Now had I gone into labor, that would have been different... he acknowledges that... but being stranded for the afternoon in town? I'd have to sort it.

So I strategically/hopefully tried to start the car again when I saw a rather strong looking man heading toward the garage exit on foot nearby. My desperate ploy paid off. He stopped, turned around, looked at me and the boys stranded in the middle of the aisle, and came back to help. After establishing we couldn't jump an automatic, he generously offered to push the car into a parking space while I steered. I couldn't thank him enough. I then unloaded the boys from the car; pulled the stroller out (thank goodness I had one with me); strapped BooBaaa in; told Ramekin he was to keep a hand on the push chair and walk nicely; and, after tipping off the powers that be at the parking garage, walked the boys to nursery which was about fifteen to twenty minutes away. On the trek back, I called the auto club and explained my predicament, and a really nice man showed up about half an hour later.

It took him a while, but he finally managed to get my car going. I think the advanced state of my pregnancy made him a tad nervous --and who can blame him, it makes me nervous!-- so he insisted on following me all the way to my car's dealership. (My apologies to other people with car issues who were waiting for their turn for help Tuesday afternooon; but, hey, it was the right thing to do, no?)

Of coruse, the dealership service department was swamped. Swamped. And there were no loaner cars available, since those are generally reserved well in advance for routine car maintenance (we do it, too). So I sat there for two and a half hours, reading a book and eating apples, grapes and granola bars for a rather belated lunch. (Luckily, I tend to keep books and snacks in the car for the boys.) G left work in time to swoop by to pick me up, and then the boys at nursery closing time, delivering us home before heading back to his office for yet more work.

So I have no car at the moment, which I do not like. I called to check on its status yesterday, and they hadn't even found the time to look at it yet. Which means I had to cancel nursery for the boys and find a way to entertain them on the wettest, soggiest day of the month thus far. Seriously, it poured most of yesterday afternoon, keeping us trapped in the house.

And when I called just a little while ago, after walking Ramekin to preschool, they said that a technician was just starting to look at it and they would get back to me as soon as they knew something.

So fingers crossed I get my car back later this afteroon ... because I am seriously uneasy about being 37+ weeks pregnant, hixing very frequently, and without instant transportation.

At least my bags are packed. sigh