Things My Baby Looks Like

When Graham was born, he looked exactly like his big brother from the start.  Even for the first six months, he continued to be a carbon copy of Cael.  Adler, on the other hand, has a look all his own, and we haven't yet been able to decipher whether Joel or I won that genetic race.

So until his features begin to resemble someone in our family and I can stop making awkward jokes about the milkman, let's take a look at a few things Adler does resemble.


Like Nixon making his "V for Victory fingers"....

Photo credit here.

 ...Or peas in a pea pod...

Photo credit here.

 ...Rose being drawn nude in Titanic...

Photo credit here.

 ...Actor Wallace Shawn of Princess Bride fame...

Photo credit here.

...A teenager rolling their eyes at their parents...

Photo credit here.

 ...A sailor from the musical "Anything Goes"...

Photo credit here.

...Elvis Presley's lip curl...

Photo credit here.

 ...or even these dancers reenacting "Thriller".

Photo credit here.

Maybe I should spend this time enjoying his unique look.  Because I'm guessing that it's only a matter of time before this...

...gets confused with these.

Symptomatic

I'm still here.

Sometimes I feel like a bit of a zombie, but I've managed to keep all of the kids fed (and occasionally the dog) and even ventured out of the house away from my little barnacle who would much prefer a constant, steady stream of milk to settle his unhappy tummy.

After a few days of this nonstop cry/eat/don't sleep/cry more cycle, I came to the inevitable conclusion that his fussiness is not due to a simple upset stomach.

We have colic.  Cue "Carmina Burana".

I was lucky enough to avoid it with Graham and even Cael, who was trying in his own ways, so I took to the internet to make sure my at-home diagnosis matched the symptoms.

Baby colic (also known as infantile colic) is defined as episodes of crying for more than three hours a day for more than three days a week for three weeks in an otherwise healthy child between the ages of two weeks and four months.

We don't quite fit those parameters, since Adler's colic began right at two weeks old and hasn't lasted long enough to be classified as such, but he has met other less common criteria that must surely indicate he isn't the happy-go-lucky infant we'd hoped he'd be.

A look of constant suspicion.  During his (still brief) periods of lucidity, Adler sneers at me as though he knows of a great many crimes I've perpetrated, or like he questions my very ability to raise him through to adulthood.  Sure, I question that myself at times, but despite a history of blaring parental mistakes, I do have two happy and healthy boys to show for my efforts.

Incidentally, did everyone see Graham's head injury yesterday?

Physical abuse.  I don't mean child abuse either-- there's no excuse for that no matter how much crying one endures.  No, I'm talking about parental abuse here, and the constant kicks to the face and/or baby-nail-razor-cuts that mark my neck and chest.  When coupled with that look above, I just know that he is using his innocent visage to manipulate and connive his way into extra food and extra snuggles.

Vulgarity.  Lastly, in what seems to be a last ditch effort to scare me off, Adler is constantly giving me the finger.  Even in the womb his hands were always in front of his face and ruining the potential for any 4D ultrasound photos.  During the rare moments when he isn't flipping me the "bird", his tongue is proudly displayed in a childish "take that".  I have chosen to interpret this resourcefulness as a sign of genius-level intelligence in a baby that lacks verbal skills beyond "ahhhhhh!".

But unfortunately for Adler, and unfortunately for colic itself, I can't be pushed away.  Because for every cry or look, kick, or finger, there is a glimpse of a smile- of the little boy he'll be after we survive "the ages of two weeks to four months".

Or maybe it was just poop.

One Strike and He's Out

With t-ball in full "swing" this summer, there has been a lot of baseball practice taking place in our backyard.  Nearly every afternoon or evening, Joel is outside pitching balls to the boys as I watch from my nearly constant nursing vigil by my bedroom window.

And I know that baseball is "America's Game", and I know that there's "no crying in baseball", but I think a different adage fits best today.

It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

...Or until someone takes a metal baseball bat to the side of the head.

You're out, Graham.

Party of Five

By this time, you've probably heard the news that our third son was born last week. But in case we aren't connected on social media, allow me to introduce Adler James Foreman, our tiny little bundle!  Adler was born Saturday, May 24th at 10:36am, weighing 5lbs, 10oz and 19.3 inches long.

We're completely in love.

Adler has already proved to be very different from his brothers.  I hadn't shared the details of my pregnancy on this blog, but from the very beginning there were complications.  From a persistent spot appearing on his heart in ultrasounds to the gestational diabetes that kept me from eating anything good to soothe my nerves, I was already bundle of anxiety when my ultrasounds began to show that his growth was restricted.  Each time he was measured, we noticed a four to five week discrepancy between his actual age and his estimated size.  For a few months, the doctors assured me that unreliable ultrasounds were to blame, but when he dipped below the 10th percentile at his 37 week growth scan, everyone agreed that it was time to evict while he was still healthy enough to handle the induction.

 No labor is "easy", so I'll skip the details of how I endured three unsuccessful epidurals, or how Adler developed a bizarre irregular heartbeat (that seems to have dissipated after birth) or how the doctor was "off site" when I needed to push and, instead, we will focus on this face.

I didn't get many photos of this sweet face in the hospital, because his dramatic arrival kept Joel from his photographer duties, and after his arrival we were preoccupied with a rigorous feeding schedule due to his birth weight and low blood sugar.  Unfortunately, many of the hospital photos I did get showcase the less-than-attractive feeding tube that was inserted on day two.

But by Memorial Day, my tiny little love was doing well and ready to come home.  I've spent the last week in a nursing/diapering/NOT sleeping stupor which has reminded me that I'm not twenty four anymore, but I am grateful for every moment I get to spend with him.  Even those that smell like sour milk or are sound-tracked by late night infomercials. 

Incidentally, I think I must have the Pocket Hose Ultra. 

Cael and Graham are adjusting well, and enjoying the prestige of being big brothers together.  I enjoy grossing them out with diaper disposal duty and after being informed repeatedly that all of my boys are of equal importance to me, they enjoy playing "What's More Important" during every free moment. 

"What's more important, Mom?  The baby, or the dog?"

"Well, Cael, Oscar is important to us and he is a member of the family, but Adler is a person, so he is more important."

"What's more important... me or the iPad?"

"You, of course."

Graham voted for the iPad.

Huge thanks go out to everyone who stopped by to visit, bring meals or flowers, send prayers during my labor or in the the sometimes scary months that preceded it.  We appreciate all of you and know that Adler will love you just as much!