Sick Day

When you're home sick, there's nothing better than getting expert care to help you feel better.

...and it truly did make me feel better.

Sick Days Have Their Rewards

On Monday I stayed home from work since your mother, you and Julia (and me too, a bit) were under the weather. But, being under the weather has its perks too: some good cuddles.

You awoke from a nap a bit too early, so you fell asleep again on me. I was honored to do it, and even caught a few winks myself.

I'm so grateful for the relationship we're building, Aidan. And I'm also thankful that we still get moments like this, years after we first held you.

So we slept for a little bit, until I awoke and put you back in bed, where you slept for about 45 more minutes.

You awoke in a much better mood and seemed to be feeling all better. I'm not going to say that sleeping on your dear Papa has magical powers...but I'm not going to say that it doesn't either.

Big Weekend for Julia- 15 weeks and growing

Last weekend you may have been 14 weeks or you may have been 15 weeks. I think it was 15. I've kinda lost count. But that's only because there's so much more to keep track of now, like all of your accomplishments.

You're 15 weeks old, and you had a HUGE weekend for awesomeness.


All of a sudden, you're almost rolling over all by yourself! You can get to your hip, but just can't get it to tip over. (almost there!)

You're smiling, positively glowing with happiness.

You're Laughing...like seriously Laughing!

You're Holding Head Up Better than Ever!

But, you're not all grown up yet. You still have time to cuddle and curl up on your Mom and Me for a good long nap. Face-in...

Or Face-out: 

Or on-ward...

You're a beautiful dreamer, that's for sure. You're also a strong gripper. You're grasping things so well now, including my hand!

So, you're really getting a hold on us, and you're really getting a handle on big girl activities. For instance, you napped and spent the night in your big-girl crib for the first time!

And, you've started taking your baths with some company!

This next one isn't so awesome, but it was a first: you got sick for the first time. We went to the doctor and found out that you- at week 15- almost way 14 pounds ! (13 lbs, 15 ounces).

We also found out that you were fooling all of us- you weren't sick at all! Maybe you just weren't feeling good. But, no medicines, no ear infection, no nothing. So, by that point you were all smiles again, and back to your regular 15-week routine of smiling, eating, playing and sleeping.

Life's good when you're a gorgeous 15 week old princess.

And we're so proud of you and in love with you...even if we can't totally remember how many weeks old you are!

Testing the Waters

It's been almost a week since I've written to you, but, don't worry, I haven't been away from you at all.

In fact, I was by your side pretty much the whole time. But that's only because your Mom was by my side.

I had surgery last Thursday in anticipation of your arrival. Seeing your due date approaching faster and faster, I finally decided to do something I've been wanting to do for a long time: have my broken sniffer repaired.

I had what they call a deviated septum, which means that I couldn't really breathe through my nose properly. I hope you get your mother's nose, if only to avoid the deviation and the surgery.

But there was no avoiding it for me. I wanted to be able to be firing on all cylinders (and all nostrils) for all of our time together, so I decided to get the surgery done.

Your Mother - at 34 weeks pregnant- has been my "patient" for a long time, as I've been "babying" her (with good reason) for a lot of the pregnancy. (It's my pleasure to do so, seriously. ) But, starting on Thursday, I was in no condition to take care of your Mom; and she was awesome enough to take care of me.

Let's just say I was testing your Mom's maternal medical instincts- and she passed with super 'A plusses.'

She did the gross (like cleaning out my nose with Q-tips and changing my bandages and not cringing when I had to spit up blood and crud).

She was patient ( like putting up with me, and even being kind to me, while I was on pain killers that made me loopy).

She was strong for me (like telling me it would all be okay, when I was definitely feeling like it wouldn't).

She lifted my spirits (and made my laugh when I didn't feel like I could, and definitely when my stiff face and nasal stitches told me that I shouldn't-- but, despite the brief pain, laughter was the best medicine).

She took my temperature, administered my medicines, taught me how to clean up my own nose and- heck- she even washed my hair.

And all this while 34 weeks pregnant with a ever-growing, kinda painful honeydew in her belly! I knew she was hurting and tired too, but she helped me get better despite that.

So, all that is to say: when your Mom has to take care of you, I know for sure that you are in good hands. That's not to say that there was any doubt before, since she's taken care of me while I was ill (or just bummed) many times over the past 12 years. But this was just a recent reaffirmation that, really, I couldn't ask for a better wife and you couldn't ask for a better mother.

(And, no, I'm not sucking up to her; I'm just calling it like I sees it!)

Your Beautiful Mother, Trying Hard not to Smile

But, I wasn't the only one testing the waters this weekend. As you passsed your 34th week-iversary, you really started testing your Mother too. With one foot - or maybe two- firmly placed against her ribs on her right hand side, you started pushing, and stretching and stretching some more.

This is your new favorite trick; and you've been doing it sporadically all weekend, especially near bedtime. As last night was my first night back in bed (after being quarantined on the couch, to avoid a thrashing Holly hitting my face during my sleep), I was able to feel your foot pressing against her ribs and then pushing even more.

I gently held on to your foot and tried to encourage you to push it down away from her ribs, kind of like scooting a under-the-blankets tennis ball down a bed from on top of the covers (haven't you ever done that before?). But your foot firmly remained in your mother's ribs, definitely testing the limits of discomfort. So, I tried again, this time talking you through it, and almost massaging your Mom's ribs to encourage you to scoot your foot elsewhere.

To be honest, I don't really remember if I was able to get you to move your foot away, because I fell asleep - all this facial healing takes a lot of energy out of you. But, rest assured, after yours and my combined weekend of testing your Mom's strength and resolve and patience, I'm now ready to resign the efforts back to you: it's your solo gig once again.

Worry not, though- I won't leave your side for too long at all. But it will be because I will be by your Mom's side; hopefully helping her, and making her laugh, and making her dinner as you continue to kick her ribs all the way to the finish line, which is now under 40 days away.

Wife Cold

As of today you are 17 weeks and 3 days old! That means you are now at least the size of an onion! It's fitting that your week as an onion should have begun with such stinky circumstances, since, well, onions stink.

This weekend, your Mother got a cold, and that stunk for everyone (almost as much as a giant onion).

On Friday afternoon she wasn't looking too good and by Friday night she took a turn for the worse.

Despite drinking lots of tea and put Mentholatum on her feet, your Mom woke up Saturday morning (actually, it was closer to afternoon) with a full blown cold:

Drainage, Sore Throat, Achy Ears, M's turning into B's (you know like saying "Bobby" instead of "Mommy"), Exhausted, Miserable, Stuffed Up Nose, Headache and a wonderful Cough!

The only problem is, when you're pregnant you can't take the same medicines you'd usually use to kick a cold's butt. After a call to the doctor, we started your Mom on a healthy diet of Mucinex and Acetemeniphen. (NO Ibuprofen for preggo-ladies!)

But, medicine alone can't cure a cold. So, your Dad played nurse all day Saturday and took a wholistic approach to making your Mom feel better.

By the end of Sunday afternoon, you and your Mom had:

• spent over 36 uniterrupted hours indoors


• eaten approximately 64 ounces of Egg Drop soup


• drank 3 bottles of Gatorade (blue, yellow and orange!)


• used 80 tissues (an entire box)


• drank 7 cups of decaffeinated tea and four cups of warm apple juice


• Used at least 3 Breath-right strips


• Put 10 olive-oil soaked cotton balls in her ears (backwoods medicine)


• Breathed in 3 full containers of Humidified Air Water

I also have to tell you that you suffered a significant exposure to a film genre called "Chick Flicks" on Saturday.

Back-to-Back-to-Back, your Mom watched her favorite movies, and you had a front-row seat some of the best make-Holly-feel-better movies out there:

"Ever After," "The Princess Bride" and "Shakespeare in Love"

Your First Chick Flick Marathon. Hopefully your last? (Note: I approve of most of these movies for repeated viewing...just not one that rhymes with "shmever shmafter")

The good news is that in a genre that contains some of the worst movies of all time, you managed to have a mother who likes some of the best of them. That is to say, I mostly approve of the movies you watched, despite them definitely being "Chick Flicks." But Drew Barrymore still kind of talks funny (you'll see what I mean).

But, the good news is that you and your Mother survived! By Sunday morning your Mom was feeling markedly better. See, all that medicine and loving care and MSG worked! Either that or it was a 48-hour bug and our actions had no effect, and you suffered through 7 hours of Chick flick for nothing.

Even though our weekend was ostensibly stinky as an onion, your Mom and you and I did get to spend a lot of time together and talk about you and your nursery and your name and registering for all the things you'll need. So, all in all, despite the living room turning into a makeshift sick ward, it wound up being a pretty nice weekend: unless you were once a tree that was turned into tissues. In that case, this weekend blew.