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I was going to scan in the ultrasound pictures of our little guy, but there is something wrong with our scanner. The doctor thought it was really funny to print out pictures where he pointed to the penis and wrote "I am a boy!!!" I'm sure that the boy will love that when he is a teenager. I should frame it. There are some cute pics too, where he looks a teeny bit like the Masked Avenger (Elena's in utero name) but also like a boy wonder. Everything was fine - he was smaller than Elena was at this point, but I'm pretty sure they have my due date wrong. At the end there was a screen with all these growth percentages and most of them were like 12th or 15th percentile but there was one that was 72nd percentile - I can only assume it was head circumference. Anyway, you may now all submit name suggestions! We do have boy names from last time around, so maybe later on, I'll post those for your comments. We didn't even come up with girl names this time, which spared us a lot of trouble because girl names are so much harder. So the big-headed tyke is doing well - moving a lot (we saw him move for the first time this week - so much sooner than we saw E), but not as much as the hyper spazoid that was the Masked Avenger (not yet at least). Being a single parent is so hard! This is only my first day of Ammon out of town but it sucks already. Getting up at 5:30 to take him to the airport also sucks, but the nighttime routine all alone is much harder. I kept telling Elena, "I need you to cooperate while Daddy is out of town," even though I know that is the worst sort of command for a toddler. But I couldn't think of specific things, especially specific things that didn't start with "don't" or "stop." Even though she pooped her pants and had a huge fit when we were on our walk and I tried to push her tricycle and she wanted to do it herself, she was actually really good. When I was putting her to sleep, she was looking around her room telling me all of the things the baby cannot play with. It went like this: Her: "My baby cannot play with my dolls. He couldn't play with my books. He couldn't play with my balloon. He couldn't play with my boogers." Me: snicker, snicker. Her: look at me in disbelief that I think anything is funny. Me: "your boogers?" Her (smiling): "yeah!" This was a much better bedtime than last night when she was a possessed devil child and screamed, "I want to bite you! Heather, DO NOT leave!"* I feel like old timer dads must have felt when the wife went out to play bridge with her friends or something - I don't know where a lot of stuff is because I never deal with it. Case in point: paper towels. I could have sworn they belong in the laundry room, but none to be found. I need them to pack in Elena's lunch and to clean up the dog pee that is the inevitable by-product of leaving a senior dog alone for 10 hours.** Since I was unable to post pictures of the baby, I will post pictures of the other baby: * She likes to call us by our first names. She has also suggested Heather as a name for the baby (this since we found out the sex yesterday). Other name suggestions: Rocket (she said on the way to the ultrasound yesterday that it might be a rocket baby and not a human baby), Nathan (her cousin), Kyla, Milk, and most commonly, Elena or Elena Junior or just Junior. ** On a sidenote, I signed up for pet insurance through my work and Rosie was DENIED. The vet records only list her as 8, which isn't super old for a medium sized dog (we have no idea how old she actually is, but based on senile behavior of past year, suspect it is much older), but she had mammory tumors and they apparently don't cover pets with a history of breast cancer. I'm pretty sure it's actionable sex discrimination. Post a comment in response: |
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