Baby Story: The Penny Edition

I've been long absent from this blog, but now, I have some news to share.

The FunnyKid's betrothed was born on Saturday! That is, my daughter was born on Saturday, three weeks before her due date. The child knows how to make an entrance.

Are you surprised? No? Because we were. Seriously.

The weekend started off with a celebratory dinner with the PH and KAT for the PH's birthday on Friday night. It was a great night out that we don't have very often. I ate a delicious steak with horseradish sauce, garlic mashed potatoes and pink lemonade. We had some laughs, played some cards, marveled at the Funnykid's cuteness....

And went into labor.

OK. That part was just me. In fact, it actually happened at home. Earlier in the evening, KAT had joked (or accurately predicted) that I would be going into labor around 3 a.m.

But around 11:45 when I was laying in bed with my husband, contemplating whether or not I had to pee, I felt a warm rush of fluid. Naturally, I assumed that I had just wet myself. Until it happened three more times. And I did what every paranoid pregnant lady who doesn't want to be the one to call the doctor because she peed herself: I googled "What does it feel like when your water breaks." We had talked about it a few times (KAT, the PH and us) and the PH had assured me that "that hardly ever happens."

And while that's true, it's exactly what happened to me. My water broke. I was the one in the emergency room with a towel. I had known when I left the house that I would be coming back with a baby - I cried when I said goodbye to Bailey. I was waiting for my husband with my packed bags. I am quite certain that J believed it to be a false alarm. This was confirmed when we got to the hospital and the nurse confirmed what I had known at this point: my water was broken. And we were going to have a baby that day.

The next few hours were loooong. But, 14 hours later, we met our little girl. Neither one of us can believe we were allowed to take her home.

I have learned some valuable lessons in the past few days, which I am more than happy to share with you all. But, right now, I have a sweet baby to cuddle.

Not what you expect to find when changing a diaper

The Pretend Husband got FunnyKid ready for bed last night, picking out a fleece sleep sack for the little guy to snooze in. When I unzipped the sleep sack this morning to change a diaper, it prompted this email to the PH:
I didn't think the birds and the bees would have to be discussed so early...

...but I found a black lace thong in your son's sleep sack when I went to change his diaper this morning. I think he might have snuck out in the middle of the night and met up with some slutty girl baby. I need you to have the sex talk with him when you get home.

It's possible it's my thong and it got into the sleep sack in the wash. But, just in case, I'm hiding my car keys before I go to bed tonight.

Life lessons I learned from my two-year-old nephew

Kat's lil sis has been visiting for the last two weeks with the world's cutest nephews. While our days have been full of plenty of craziness, there has been time to slow down and see the world from my two-year-old nephew Peyton's level. And what a world it is! I now give you the lessons I've learned from Peyton during his visit (feel free to start putting them to use yourself):

Life's too short to take the time to sit still for photographs.

It's a tasty world out there. Plus it totally grosses out the grown-ups when you lick shopping carts, your hands after touching the floor of a restaurant, etc.

If you don't like something, throw a pacifier at it.

If you like something, throw a pacifier at it.

If you want to get a laugh, throw a pacifier.

Patting your cousin lovingly on the head will get you huge points with your aunt.

Sitting on the floor of the grocery store may help you get your way. Or it may get you left there. It's a chance you should be willing to take.

When you get the chance to visit a playground, make sure you play the heck out of it.

Fruits and vegetables are overrated. Hold out for cookies and M&Ms.

Silly faces and cute games will get you places, especially with your aunt.

Not being able to pronounce relative's names is not a problem as long as you give them cool nicknames (just ask Aunt Kat and The Dude).

I love it when a plan comes together....

While life with FunnyKid is far from perfect (anyone with ANY advice about how to get this kid to take a freakin' bottle-- I beg you to leave a comment!), it does work out at times. Take two weeks ago. I spent two days and nights in a row feeding FunnyKid every hour and a half. Yes, I slept for 90 minutes at a time for two whole nights and was barely surviving.

When someone asked me how well FunnyKid was sleeping (for some reason, people love to hear about a baby's sleep habits), I confessed things were going poorly. "But he turns six weeks old on Thursday," I said. "I hear that's when everything gets better. I expect him to sleep through the night on Thursday night."

We both chuckled and moved on to other topics, but wouldn't you know it? FunnyKid slept for more than seven hours straight on Thursday night. I love this kid (but seriously, any advice about getting him to take a bottle?)

Reasons why I don't miss being pregnant

With SJ nearing the end of her pregnancy, she has had-- understandably-- more frequent complaints about how she feels. And while it might make most people think, "Thank goodness I'm past all that..." it actually makes me miss being pregnant (a little). But rather than wallow in reasons I wish I were still pregnant, I came up with some reasons to be happy I'm not.

-- When the Pretend Husband learned I was no longer allowed to sleep on my back, he appointed himself the Sleep Police. I was frequently woken up by him poking me and saying, "Roll over." And if that weren't bad enough, I sometimes woke up to find him groping me as he tried to determine whether I was lying on my back. I don't miss being woken up all the time.

-- By the end of my pregnancy, I was incredibly swollen, especially in my hands and feet. I couldn't fit into anything other than flip-flops and often woke up to find my hands frozen into claws because of the fluid in my joints. I had so much fluid that, a week after giving birth, I had already lost 20 pounds. I won't talk about how much sweating I had to do in that week to get rid of that much fluid...

-- Oh yeah, and the last reason to be glad I'm no longer pregnant is being able to see the little being who I knew only as the kicking, hiccuping thing in my belly. And what a cute little being he is: