This Week's Favorite Child Award goes to . . .


1. In a hurry to leave for Ladies' Bible Class on Wednesday, I grab peanut butter, bread, jelly, a knife and a package of juice boxes. At lunch time I am making sandwiches. I get to Charlie's and Melody says, "Mommy! Charlie is allergic to strawberries and that is strawberry jelly!" I thought I'd grabbed the cherry, but I had Melody to save the day.

2. Today Melody walks into the pediatrician's office and climbs onto the exam table. She shows me 'how a lady sits in a dress' then lifts her skirt to carefully reveal her thighs, but not her panties. "I am ready for my shot!" she announces.

When the time for the shot comes, she is calm and ready. While the nurse frets over her, she just replies with, "I am very brave." Even during the shot, she does not flinch, let alone cry.

The nurse, impressed with her braveness, gives her five large stickers instead of one. She proclaims that she is glad she has five because she then has enough for everyone in the family. We go home and she shares the stickers. She even lets Dixie pick her own instead of giving her the one she wants her to have.

3. Yesterday, Melody very excitedly explains:
"Mommy! Your back is called your back because it is the back of your tummy! And you have a back of your foot--it is called a heel. And a back of your leg and back of your tummy and it is called your back because it is in the back!"

Dixie gets an honorable mention for referring to her big toe as her 'thumb toe.'

4. Melody was quiet today. When I went to investigate why, I discovered she had gotten out one Clorox wipe, shut the lid on the package, then went to the bathroom to clean the counter, sink, bathtub and toilet. Why? "I'm Cinderella!"

5. Later I was making supper and feeding Charlie a snack when screaming erupted from my bedroom. I go in to find two hysterical little girls. Melody explained that Dixie kept telling her how to play and she didn't want to do it that way, but Dixie kept telling her over and over so Melody hit her in the face.

I asked Dixie what she had done to make Melody cry. "Nothing." I asked if this was the truth and she said that it was. I asked Melody why she was crying " Because I was so mean to my sister! And I don't like to be mean!"


Gretchen: Melody, eat your cereal.
Melody: But I want real food!
G: It is real food.
M: No, it's not! It's pretend food. I want real food, not pretend food
G: But it is real food, see? (crunch)
M: But I want HEALTHY food.
G: What do you want?
M: You get to pick!
G: I pick cereal.


Dixie asks:

Mommy, when will I be bigger than a banana?



brief update (with very little punctuation)

the kids behaved, mostly. the lady was there for about 2.5 hours, which is a really long time to keep two little girls behaving, especially after a week with a houseful of people, weather so cold that they havent been out for awhile and on a day when special programs at church were canceled so they had to sit through all of church.

dixie was so incredibly silly. the social worker asked how old she was, she answered seven. she was asked to spell her name and spelled it LACEEY. uh-huh. the entire time she was pretending to be a baby kitty or a baby. for a bit there in the middle she forgot to be goofy long enough to be regular dixie. but the poor kid had been required to be good so much in the past week. it is always hard when grandma comes and goes and it is also hard when strange people come to her house and want her mommy and daddy's attention, especially for a really long time.

i think it went well. she didnt seem appalled by any of our answers and seemed very positive. she interacted with the girls a bit at first, then sent them off to play while talking to us as we fed charlie. then i went in with the girls while she talked to dowlan alone. then she gave us a mountain of paperwork and took the girls in individually to talk to them.

she'll be back next tuesday for a follow-up and to talk to me individually. it will be while dixie is at school and charlie is napping, so we will just have melody to contend with and i will stick her on the little mermaid game or something.

after she left i realized how completely exhausted i am. i spent three days baking and cleaning, then three days entertaining and cooking and cleaning for about fifteen people. then a day decorating for christmas and a day cleaning for this event.

i realized i havent slept a good nights' sleep in a really long time. before the week of thanksgiving was week after week of illness, and before that, perpetual catastrophe.

so i fully intend to sleep for at least a week the children learn that they really do need a mommy as they attempt to care for themselves.


Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

Is our adoption homestudy at 2:30.

The house is almost clean. The kids got to bed early tonight. Hopefully, disaster will not strike.


I've been issued a challenge!

"Tag! You're it! 8 Interesting/Random things about yourself....and.....go!"

1. I can pick my nose with my tongue.
2. Yes, I am an opera singer.
3. I once pierced my own ear with a safety pin. Not recommended, BTW.
4. I was voted "Girl Most Changed Since High School" at my 10th reunion this month. I guess no one had me pegged as a suburban housewife.
5. I only had three wisdom teeth.
6. I have twice rented my body out for the sake of science.
7. I am very skilled with power tools AND sewing machines.
8. I am the only person Chuck Norris fears.
9. I have difficulty conforming to society's rules.

I swear to you that Dixie just sang:

Yes I know the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man.
Yes I know the Muffin Man, and he's made in China.

So on top to providing Thanksgiving Perfection for 15

I have to clean up when it is done. Oh, dear.

The social worker called and our Adoption Homestudy is Sunday at 2:30. Say a prayer, light a candle, cross the fingers, take the pins out of the voodoo doll--do whatever it is you do.

See Dixie has a tendency to say the most perfectly inappropriate thing fathomable. One day, as I was clicking her into her car seat, we had the following conversation:

Dixie: Mommy, why do you hurt me ALL the time? You are so mean to me and make me cry?
Mommy: How do I hurt you? How am I mean?
Dixie: When you click me into my car seat you pinch me with the clicker. And you hurt me EVERY DAY! Your fingernails scratch.
Mommy: If you can sit still while I click you into your car seat it wouldn't pinch. It only pinches when you are wriggling around and I have to use the car seat straps like a lasso. And if you would get your straps on yourself, which I know you can do, then you don't risk me scratching you with my finger nails because I don't have to dig around looking.
Dixie: Harumph. Well. Well. You're mean.

This was another favorite that happened when Dixie slipped climbing out of Charlie's crib:

Dixie: Dammit!
Mommy: What did you say?
D: Dammit.
M: Where on earth did you learn that word? We NEVER say that word!
D: Oh, it's my grandma's favorite word. She says it all the time.
M: I have known your grandmother since I was twelve years old and I have never once heard her say that word.
D: Oh, it is her favorite. She loves to hear me say it. I say it every day because it makes her laugh and smile so much!

See what I mean? So I can just imagine the conversation with the social worker:

Social Worker: How do you like your new home?
Dixie: Mommy hurts me EVERY DAY.
SW: How does she hurt you?
D: She pinches my bottom and scratches me with her fingernails. Every day.
SW: How does that make you feel?
D: Like saying, "Dammit." I say dammit every day.


My Husband Has Terrible Taste

Which I can prove beyond all reasonable doubt with the following paragraph:

Dowlan is Buffy The Vampire Slayer fan. But wait, there's more. There was a special musical episode of Buffy that was known as "Once More, With Feeling." Not only did he record it and watch it on multiple occasions, he then recorded himself a CD of the songs on it. But here's the true kicker: within a few days of its broadcast, I took him to see a touring Broadway group's rendition of Les Miserables. It was fantastic, beautiful, moving and perfect in every way. When I asked him what he thought after the show he made some ridiculous noise about it being okay, but not as good as "Once More, With Feeling."


I say all this because there is an aspect to the story line of the Buffy Musical that is seeming quite familiar. A spell is cast that makes the characters dance more and more wildly until they are so out of control that they spontaneously combust.

See, I am a little worried that this might happen to my girls.

Not due to dancing, but because of the insane amounts of escalating giggling. Here is a recent example:

Melody comes up to me and asks for juice. Being the lazy parent I am, I tell her that I forgot how to make it. So she tells me. I tell her, "Nope, that doesn't sound familiar. I don't think I can do that."

She giggles, and climbs on top of me while I'm doing my Kakuro puzzle. (Kakuro is like Sudoku, only hard and interesting.) I take the logical next step and draw a smiley face on the bottom of her big toe. This triggers more giggling and a request for the complementing toe on the other foot to be smiling likewise. I acquiesce.

Then I draw one of those little puppet faces on the side of my hand. Each girl wants one as well. We start making our hands be Ursula, Ariel and Eric. Then they start kissing and biting each other. Then Charlie decides to climb atop the fray.

Charlie does not smell good.

Mommy: Girls, get off me. I need to change your brother's stinky bottom.
Melody: His stinky bottom? His binky doddum?
Dixie: His stinky booty? His dinkie dootie?
Please tell me I don't have to spell out the rest of that portion of the conversation.

Mommy: Yes. Please, get off me now.
You can imagine how well that worked.

Finally, I had to bodily remove them under threat of imminent and lasting psychological harm. Melody's feet hit the ground running as she sprinted into the closet/nursery and hurled herself upon the changing table.

Again with the threats and throwing the kid about a bit. Lucky for me she doesn't weigh much.

So the giggling continues to escalate into pitches that left the neighborhood dogs whimpering. I begin changing the foul gift that Charlie had prepared for me when it suddenly became very dark.

Mommy: Melody, turn that light on right now!
Melody: I can't.
Mommy: Why not?
Melody: Because it is dark and I cannot find the light switch.

So I have a few choices. Stand and wait until Melody finds the switch in the dark and hope that Charlie doesn't decide to create further gifts or explore the current selections with both hands. Leave a poop smeared baby alone on the changing table to go across the small space and reach for the light switch and hope that he doesn't take this moment to explore the wondrous sport of diving. Pick up the partially-covered foul stench that is my infant son and take it with me to turn on the light.

As I am contemplating, Melody's hand manages to bump the dimmer switch enough for me to see what I am doing. The giggling continues to grow as she climbs into the crib. I finish the diaper duty, shut off the light and close the door. Melody does not appreciate my gesture.

So the girls then begin to run in screaming giggling circles throughout the house until they begin falling over themselves, and fall into one giggle-infested heap of girly-ness.

I think I distinctly smell smoke.


Lost: One Easygoing Baby Boy

If you have found him, please return him to me. You know where to find me.

I have to offer in exchange this duplicate child who is like Charlie in every way, but they totally screwed up the personality on this model. I know it isn't exactly a fair swap, but I have plenty of diaper coupons to sweeten the deal and help in the care of Post-Croup And -Rotovirus Charlie [PCARC].

I am pretty sure I lost him in the hospital, because he is not at all the baby I arrived with. That baby was easygoing and virtually effortless. As long as food was provided on a regular basis and the diaper was quickly changed on an as needed basis, life was fabulous. You could take that kid anywhere. He was self-entertaining, semi-self-feeding and one champ of a sleeper.

This model is none of these things. PCARC wants to be held all day long. And only by a standing person of his choosing. Only he gets really bored hovering 4-ish feet over all the toys so he make movements to indicate that he wants to be set down. Setting him down triggers the little switch mechanisms on the bottom of his feet that activate screaming mode. The only solution to screaming mode is to again pick up said boy child. Who then wants down. Who then forgets why he wanted down in the first place and, thus, the cycle continues. Quite vicious, that cycle.

Additionally, the putting-him-in-the-highchair-with-a-heap-o'- food-mode is no longer working. PCARC wants bottles and lots of them. Sippy cups are no longer an acceptable means of containing liquids (unless they belong to a sister of the original Charlie). He prefers baby food spooned directly into his mouth over little chopped up bits but will accept little chopped up bits as long as only one food item is offered at a time and you do not walk more than eight inches away from the chair, address another person verbally or allow your gaze to wander. PCARC will instantly reject the initial food offering if a second appears, even if it is less pleasing than the first. PCARC will only pick up bits of food for consumption if holding a utensil of his choosing in one hand, even though it is often in no way involved in the actual eating process.

PCARC also finds a great deal of joy in chewing food and adding to that food without actually ever swallowing it. At some point his capacity threshold is reached and his capability to swallow is exceeded, so the food come tumbling and oozing back out of his mouth in a slow grin.

The inability to pinpoint his exact food allergies are not helping any of this.

The last defect of the current inhabitant of my closet is in regards to his sleeping pattern. Charlie is a Cry-It-Out success story. They should put this child on a plaque somewhere. You lay him down, he is asleep. No fuss, no muss, no bother. He sleeps so long and so well that it is actually quite easy to forget his very existence. PCARC begins fussing the moment he sees the hand of the adult carrying him reach for the knob of the closet/nursery because he has wised up to the fact that nothing good happens in that room. That is where the tall people take him to change his clothes, wipe his face, clean his bottom or entrap him heartlessly in the prison they refer to mockingly as a crib.

If you have seen Original Charlie, please return him. My sanity depends on it.

I really AM the Greatest!

Dixie told me this and i had to share:

Dixie: Mommy, I love you. I just always wanted a mom like you. Mommy of my dreams. I wanted this home for a long time.


Hey, I didn't say it.

Making sandwiches with Dixie:

Mommy, be careful not to cut that messy. Because if you cut that messy, you won't be a wife, you'll be a husband!

Those of you not from Texas may not get this . . .

My 10th high school reunion was this past weekend. I had a really great time and enjoyed catching up with people.

Right after high school, I moved to Austin to go to the University of Texas. I am a proud Texas Longhorn and I have the tattoo and student loans to prove it.

So we are at the after party from the reunion and we are standing in some guy's garage at 1:00 a.m. and a lot of drinking has occurred in the last six hours. Jeff comes up to me, gives me a huge hug, and we start chatting. I see his Texas A&M ring and we start talking smack like any good rivals should. Then Just comes up to see what we're talking about. So I am a Longhorn, Just is a Red Raider and Jeff is an Aggie.

I told them, "Hey, if we all walk into the bar, are we the start of a joke?"

Even better: the Aggie didn't get it.


At least her dog didn't explode on fire

You may remember me writing about teaching the girls about 9-1-1. Clearly, Melody has a firm grasp of when and how to call, based on this exchange she has on her Fisher Price phone:

Melody: Mommy, what's the 'mergency number again? 911?
Mommy: Yes, 911
Melody: 'Mergency? Help! I'm stuck to an elephant. Yes, we got glued together. And monsters are cooking me. Yes. I have called Eric to come help, but I need 'Mergency because they're both very big 'mergencies.

100,000 words by the end of breakfsast

I have heard the statistic that men speak 20,000 words a day and women speak 100,000 words a day.

I have something to add to that. I have no empirical data to back me up,but would feel quite comfortable betting large amounts of money on the statistic that my little girls have easily spoken 100,000 words by the end of breakfast. Daddy has spoken 100, Charlie about 10 and I have spoken five: 'Please make me some coffee.' On a rare occasion I will also throw in the phrase 'Hey, don't touch my coffee' thereby doubling my count.

We did get the blinds hung yesterday, and the girls sparked off the day with commentary on the blinds. Melody's assessment was: Mommy! I touched them and they didn't make me blind!

Sorry, but I haven't actually had the aforementioned coffee so there will be no pic.

Then we moved to working on the project that we are making the Grandmothers for Christmas. I dutifully manned my paintbrush and steered the girls away from the table cloth and onto the item the paint brush was intended for while Dixie asked why we are making these, when is it Christmas, if people will like them, why hers isn't as neat as mommies and about four thousand questions. I didn't actually have to answer any of them because there was no pause between thoughts.

Sorry, but I am awake enough, Grandmothers, to know better than to include pics.

The discussion du jour was on the punishment fitting the crime. What will happen if you say 'stupid.' What will happen if you stick your bottom out. What about sticking your tongue out. What if you do all three and what if you do all three one hundred times. After much speculation I told them that this was not a penal system with mandatory sentencing laws and the only way to really know was to try it and see if Judge Mommy was in a good enough mood to offer probation.

Have I mentioned that I need coffee?


Oh, Dear.

So I went to Lowe's with my friend to buy plantation blinds for my living room and *kind of* come back with almost $400 worth of stuff.

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Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
(No, I did not buy a man. I already had that one. Look behind he couch.)

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

My ultimate scheme is to get one more three drawer unit and one more two door/one drawer unit and have five units of alternating types along that whole wall. Then build bookshelves to install on top that will be flanking the painting on each side and have a top that runs all the way across.

Who could have a problem with such a glorious scheme in home improvement and organization? Not to mention the over $250 I saved? Apparently my husband. He has this insane notion that earmarked funds should be only used to buy the HDTV that they are earmarked for.

I tried to explain to him that we'd be even further from our goal if the disorganization, clutter and takeover of our home by large plastic objects in primary colors caused me to snap and pull a Milton (If I have to pick up this toy one more time I think I'll just set the building on fire. Have you seen my stapler?.)

I think this argument might get me further if I hadn't brought this all home at 8:30 and those photos weren't finally taken till around 2:00 a.m. But really! He didn't have to leave for work until eight.

As for the windows that needed the blinds that started it all?
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Yup, you guessed it.


If I am still around tomorrow

I will explain to you why a $400 impulse buy does NOT contribute to marital bliss.


Of elbows and armpits

About a year ago, Melody became fascinated with her elbows. Specifically, she wanted to know "Where my elbow went." She would bend it and there it was. She would straighten her arm and *poof* it disappeared.

Now it is Dixie's turn to ponder armpits.
Dixie: Papa, why do your armpits have lots of fur on them?
Papa: Because I water them, and they grow.
Dixie: Really?
Papa: Yes, if you water yours, they will someday grow when you get older . . . oh, nevermind. You will be a delicate lady. Men are just hairy sometimes.

Now this explanation of my father's clearly goes against my parenting style of giving them incredibly complicated scientific information so factually presented that it might encourage them to simply, well, shut up about it. I would have started to answer that question with a detailed function of the pituitary gland.

Dixie again this evening broached the subject of pits at the dinner table. During the fine dining experience of eating eggs already clad in your jammies, she declared that she will never, ever take them off. They are her favorite, and her best. And she will never, ever take them off except then she might get sweaty. And then they might make her armpits itch. And then she might have to scratch a lot and if she scratches too much, she might bleed. Then there would be blood allllllll over her favorite jammies. And that would be bad.

So she decided that she might change in the morning after all.


How many questions can a girl ask in ten minutes?


Mommy? Am I magic? mommy, I have to go pee. Veryveryveryveryvery bad. Mommy, can you take me to the grocery store? Mommy, can you tell me a joke? Mommy, that joke wasn't funny because you didn't say knock knock. Mommy? Do you wish you were Cinderella? Mommy, please tell me your middle name. That isn't your middle name. No it isn't. Because I don't like it. Mommy, if that is your middle name, then I won't be your kid anymore. Mommy, when will baby Charlie turn one hundred? What is bigger than one hundred? What is bigger than one hundred and one? And then what is next? Mommy, how many is sixty-forty-twelve? Mommy, do you like blue? Mommy, how long until the Fourth of July? Why can't it be sooner?


Mommy, it's broken

Dixie: Mommy, it's broken!
Mommy: What is?
D: My magic wand.
M: Lemme see. It doesn't look broken to me. What is wrong with it?
D: When I say the magic words and do this (waving wildly) nothing happens.
M: Silly, girl, nothing is going to happen.
D: But my magic wand! It's supposed to do magic and it won't work!
M: Well, magic is just pretend, honey.
D: No, magic is NOT pretend. I will just wait until daddy comes home. HE will fix it for me if YOU won't.


We're out of people to vomit next

Charlie had his turn all day and I just started my round.


Dixie had been asleep tonight for about an hour when a bad dream woke her up. So she came to snuggle in with me. Dowlan was finishing up his project du jour and was standing in the kitchen with tools. Dixie whispered to me: "Mommy! Do you think Daddy is building a whole new house?"

She overheard a woman's voice on the TV and asked me, "Mommy, is that God's wife talking?"

She is also not quite recovered from Halloween. She only refers to Dowlan as Scarecrow and me as Ursula. Tonight's Dinner Conversation:

Dixie: Scarecrow, why did you want to marry Ursula?
Dowlan: Because I don't have a brain. (Quickly Backtracking) So I needed to marry someone who had one.
Gretchen: So are you saying that you married the sea witch because she bewitched you or she b****ed at you until you gave in?
Dowlan: I didn't say that. I am going to stop talking now.


Charlie is already hiding his drinking from his mother

Keeping Charlie happy in a tiny room for four days was even less fun that you'd imagine. Especially when you consider that he had to be in a crib under an oxygen tent for much of that time. Most sick babies are compliant and make things easy on their poor dear mothers by lolling about and staring listlessly. Not Charlie. He was happy, chipper, awake, and alert through most of the ordeal.

I did make one initial error. We hadn't been there but a few hours when I whipped out his Christmas present that had been hiding at Oma's. By whipping out the big guns, I taught him that acting bored and pretending to be hearty, healthy and hale between bouts of gasping for air will only result in the scrambling of the tall people in frantic efforts to find him more cool toys.

I realize that I am ascribing large motives to a small boy, but you have to remember that this is Charlie we're talking about here. Until this point, his needs have never been considered. Not once. He has never had this much time with this much attention focused on him. Nothing has ever once belonged solely to him. He realizes that he is finally getting his due and that the pesky sisters are nowhere near to thwart his plans. Sure, Melody tries her best with this puking-all-night bit, but not even Dixie's getting-hit-in-the-face-by-a-rope scheme comes close to 'Hey! I'm the baby and I can't breathe!"

Charlie has finally found a winning plan and is not letting it go.

He was actually really good during all the breathing treatments, poking, prodding, listening and measuring he endured during his, uh, unfortunate incarceration. And I will soon have the pics of him doing all the cute things he did to share, including games of hide-n-seek.

Which brings me back to the subject that is concerning me: Charlie is hiding his drinking from me.

As we were waiting to be discharged, he was walking around the room with a bottle of God-Knows-What. The ENTIRE bottle. Between nips, he kept opening the little cabinet door, setting it on the shelf, closing the door and looking at me with this big innocent grin. He showed me all six teeth.

Then he'd toddle around the room some more. Play with the buttons, go into his little hiding spots. As soon as he'd walked it off, he'd check to see if I was looking and return to where he hid the good stuff.

Pretty soon he was so desperate that he just stayed at the door, trying to not let me see him. He would open the door and stand behind it. I would hear the sound of him chugging from the nipple. As soon as the squeaking stopped, blue eyes and that same 'What, me???' grin would appear from nowhere, only to pop back behind the door, seeking more of the crazy juice.

It is the hospital's fault you know. Putting him on steriods, then bring him such horrible food at such long intervals that his tummy had no choice but to turn to it's former habit. I guess we'll be hitting the rehab hospital next.


I need a Kick Me sign

Melody has strep. Her tonsils are the size of grapes.

I promise all you, however, that I will be posting again soon with my normal stuff. Really, I well.



got here at 3:55 a.m. i got four hours sleep before charlie's nebulizer treatment. then dowlan went to work and now it is just me and the three short people

dixie and melody played with the perfume. this triggered a migraine.

my current goal is to remain upright as much as possible to minimize the possibility of me falling asleep.



Charlie was released from the hospital today and is currently playing on the stairs in Papa and Oma's house.

Dowlan and Melody threw up all night.

I have a nasty sinus headache.

Dixie is just fine.


Charlie gets out on Sunday!

Sorry for no updates--there is a computer I can get to at the hospital, but it is pretty limited as far as what it will allow you to access on the internet.

Charlie had a much better night last night and was off of the oxygen most of the day. If he can make it through the night tonight without being on oxygen, he gets released. We'll have to bring home a nebulizer and continue treatments. He is still cruddy and wheezy, but no longer barking constantly.

The girls spent a lot of today at Grandma Jane's house. Jane called me about five to tell me that Melody was throwing up. It is 7:30 now and she has thrown up three times. So now my mom is at the hospital with Charlie so that I can be with pukey girl until she goes to sleep.

I am tired. So freaking tired.


There's not much funny to share

with a baby in the hospital. He has croup and has been in an oxygen/humidity tent since yesterday morning.

We got into Abilene on Wednesday night, went to a Halloween Carnival, went Trick-or Treating at Aunt B's house, and came to Oma and Papa's and then tried to get Charlie to bed. He stayed up until 11:30, happy and playing.

He woke up at 4:30, crying, screaming and miserable. Coughing and snotty. We swapped off bouncing and snuggling. He finally ate something at 7:30. Charlie never skips a meal. By 9:30, he was struggling with every breath. So I took him to see Dr. Maslanka, who I used to see as a kid.

I expected that it was more bronchiolitis, which he has had a couple of times and just needed an allbuterol treatment. However, it is croup. When he had his first good nap, the oxygen rate dropped to 88%. Normal is 94-96%. So they put one of those hoses on his nose, which he loved, of course.

He has been in the hospital for a day now and will definitely be in till Saturday. He can't go home until he can go all night without oxygen. Last night his pulse oxygen rates kept dipping and they had to double the amount of oxygen going through his nose tub. So I am afraid this may take longer than anyone wants it to.

Between bouts of torture, he plays pretty happily in his little crib and has finally started eating. Mostly he is just grumpy because he is a very, very tired boy.

We have our cell phone with us there if you need to find us.