we are go for launch
I had an OB visit this afternoon after work, and at the end of it, the OB asked, "So...do you want to go to L&D now?" Friend, you do not have to ask twice.
Sitting in L&D now, 5cm and 50% effaced, head at 0 station. Let's have us a baby before tomorrow, shall we?
brick prison in the news
Fairly amusing piece in The New York Times about kids cramming for the admissions exam to my old high school. Given how hard these kids are studying, I have a sneaking suspicion that if I had to take the test today, I wouldn't get in. (And I don't mean if the 10 year-old me took the exam. I mean even if the 30 year-old me took the exam.) Nonetheless, I feel privileged to have been schooled among such academic titans. I mean, just look at us. Clearly, we were geniuses.
Best line in the article? Though probably only hilarious to those of us to went to high school in New York City?
Heh.
* (OK, OK...I am the one at the top of the pyramid in the gigantic green T-shirt. I think we were in...eighth grade at the time? What, obscenely oversized isn't cool anymore? Wait...what do you mean, it wasn't ever cool? Thanks to Maria, whose Facebook page I ganked this off of.)
Fairly amusing piece in The New York Times about kids cramming for the admissions exam to my old high school. Given how hard these kids are studying, I have a sneaking suspicion that if I had to take the test today, I wouldn't get in. (And I don't mean if the 10 year-old me took the exam. I mean even if the 30 year-old me took the exam.) Nonetheless, I feel privileged to have been schooled among such academic titans. I mean, just look at us. Clearly, we were geniuses.
Best line in the article? Though probably only hilarious to those of us to went to high school in New York City?
And what if they were not among the fewer than 200 students who gain seats out of a pool of up to 2,000 test-takers?
“I’ll be sad,” said James Lee, a student at Intermediate School 119 in Glendale, Queens, “but there’s still Stuyvesant.”
Heh.
* (OK, OK...I am the one at the top of the pyramid in the gigantic green T-shirt. I think we were in...eighth grade at the time? What, obscenely oversized isn't cool anymore? Wait...what do you mean, it wasn't ever cool? Thanks to Maria, whose Facebook page I ganked this off of.)
unwisely braving horizontal stripes at 39 weeks
At this point, with prospects of a 2008 debut dashed and the weekend half over, I figure I'd almost rather just work most of this last week and have Cal 2.0 wait until our induction date (Friday, January 9th) to meet us. There are a couple of reasons for this, foremost of which is the fact that while the hospital at which we are going to deliver is pretty close to our house (a fifteen minute walk as a matter of fact, close enough that my preferred mode of transport home after my OB appointments is on foot), it is pretty far from the hospital where I work. If something happened while I was at work, I have been assured by many that someone would be freed up somehow to drive me into L&D, but the fact of it is that I have no concrete contingency plan, and that such an event would require some scrambling and confusion and juggling of personnel, none of which I would want to perpetrate on the busy OR staff the week after coming back from the holidays. (I told them that my original plan was just take a cab, but the resulting reaction to that suggestion was roughly the equivalent of the reception that Bush got at that Iraqi press conference where he got shoes thrown at him.) Joe said that I should just call him in case of emergency so that he could dash in and drive me to the hospital, but that would just take twice as long--requiring him to extricate himself from work, drive all the way out to where I work, getting lost, driving all the way back intown, which--no. So for that reason, not going into labor during the week, at least not during the day, would be the wisest option.
Secondly, if we make it far enough to go in for our scheduled induction this Friday, we get two extra weekend days tacked on to Joe's paternity leave, which, given that he only has a week off, is significant. But either way, what will be will be, and if nothing is going to happen this weekend, I'm ready and eager to get back to work on Monday, because all this sitting around and waiting is driving me crazy.
Again, from the front, looking...OK-ish:
And then from the side, grievously regretting the optical effect of the horizontal stripes. I look like one of those topographical illustrations that mapmakers use to depict the mountainous outcroppings of Appalachia:
So, how this induction will supposedly work is this: we have an appointment for 7:30am on Friday. We are to call L&D two hours before to confirm bed availability--which sounds early, to wake up at 5:30am just to call in, but that's about the time that I'm usually leaving for work anyway, so it should be no big change from usual. Barring the influx of eighteen pregnant ladies overnight going into spontaneous labor and yet all failing to deliver by morning (fairly unlikely, but as someone who has worked the floors of L&D, I know not entirely out of the realm of possibility), they will tell us that we still have our spot and we can head in to start our morning of Pitocin, amniotomy hooks, and bad daytime television.
But anyway, there's no point in thinking about it anymore. It's just good to know that there's a defined endpoint. That said, if we call in at 5:30am on Friday morning and they tell us that we should just stay home because there are no beds, I may scream.
We got a big box in the mail yesterday afternoon from Joe's sister, addressed to [the baby's name that we picked out]. After some deliberation with Cal as to whether or not we should open it now or stick it under the Christmas tree, we decided to "help" the baby and open the box now. I'm glad we did.
So now we have an actual Ling Ling to keep the baby company after he's born. And until then, at least to keep the crib warm for him.
At this point, with prospects of a 2008 debut dashed and the weekend half over, I figure I'd almost rather just work most of this last week and have Cal 2.0 wait until our induction date (Friday, January 9th) to meet us. There are a couple of reasons for this, foremost of which is the fact that while the hospital at which we are going to deliver is pretty close to our house (a fifteen minute walk as a matter of fact, close enough that my preferred mode of transport home after my OB appointments is on foot), it is pretty far from the hospital where I work. If something happened while I was at work, I have been assured by many that someone would be freed up somehow to drive me into L&D, but the fact of it is that I have no concrete contingency plan, and that such an event would require some scrambling and confusion and juggling of personnel, none of which I would want to perpetrate on the busy OR staff the week after coming back from the holidays. (I told them that my original plan was just take a cab, but the resulting reaction to that suggestion was roughly the equivalent of the reception that Bush got at that Iraqi press conference where he got shoes thrown at him.) Joe said that I should just call him in case of emergency so that he could dash in and drive me to the hospital, but that would just take twice as long--requiring him to extricate himself from work, drive all the way out to where I work, getting lost, driving all the way back intown, which--no. So for that reason, not going into labor during the week, at least not during the day, would be the wisest option.
Secondly, if we make it far enough to go in for our scheduled induction this Friday, we get two extra weekend days tacked on to Joe's paternity leave, which, given that he only has a week off, is significant. But either way, what will be will be, and if nothing is going to happen this weekend, I'm ready and eager to get back to work on Monday, because all this sitting around and waiting is driving me crazy.
Again, from the front, looking...OK-ish:
And then from the side, grievously regretting the optical effect of the horizontal stripes. I look like one of those topographical illustrations that mapmakers use to depict the mountainous outcroppings of Appalachia:
So, how this induction will supposedly work is this: we have an appointment for 7:30am on Friday. We are to call L&D two hours before to confirm bed availability--which sounds early, to wake up at 5:30am just to call in, but that's about the time that I'm usually leaving for work anyway, so it should be no big change from usual. Barring the influx of eighteen pregnant ladies overnight going into spontaneous labor and yet all failing to deliver by morning (fairly unlikely, but as someone who has worked the floors of L&D, I know not entirely out of the realm of possibility), they will tell us that we still have our spot and we can head in to start our morning of Pitocin, amniotomy hooks, and bad daytime television.
But anyway, there's no point in thinking about it anymore. It's just good to know that there's a defined endpoint. That said, if we call in at 5:30am on Friday morning and they tell us that we should just stay home because there are no beds, I may scream.
We got a big box in the mail yesterday afternoon from Joe's sister, addressed to [the baby's name that we picked out]. After some deliberation with Cal as to whether or not we should open it now or stick it under the Christmas tree, we decided to "help" the baby and open the box now. I'm glad we did.
So now we have an actual Ling Ling to keep the baby company after he's born. And until then, at least to keep the crib warm for him.
you're the birthday boy or girl
Fine, endlessly gestating gigantic fetus. Just stay up in there. Just stay up in there FOREVER.
(Reverse psychology, see.)
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Today, lacking anything else entertaining to do (the weather outside was sunny, but a bit cold to stay at the playground for anything more than half an hour or so), we decided to take a family trip to Chuck E. Cheese. That's right, Chuck E. Cheese. Remember when we used to live in Manhattan and, like, went to museums and street fairs and crap? THOSE DAYS ARE OVER. Now we go to the equivalent of a kiddie casino and eat pizza while watching animatronic mice sing cover versions of 80's pop standards. Stay classy, Atlanta!
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Cal was excited to go initially, but as many of you know, three year-olds are not quite sane, and because we offended him in some way (I believe it had to do with the fact that we insisted that his carseat harness did in fact have to be buckled while the car was moving) he screamed that he WANTED TO GO HOME! WANT TO GO HOME! DON'T DRIVE THE CAR! STOP! DON'T WANT TO GO HAVE FUN! the entire ride there, and once we had finally arrived, refused to get out of the car. Oh, this poor kid, whose cruel, heartless parents wanted to take him to Chuck E. Cheese to play Skee-ball and eat pizza. Clearly abusive, authorities should be alerted immediately.
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Luckily (for all) he warmed up once he actually allowed himself to be physically dragged into the place and saw all the rides and video games and balls and (best of all) "money" that he was allowed to put inside the coin slots to participate in each activity. We gave him a little cup of those play tokens to run around with, and I think that may have been the highlight of his day, because he was guarding those slugs like Gollum. (Tip for those interested in going to Chuck E. Cheese with their own thankless children: go register at the Chuck E. Cheese site online and you will be e-mailed some coupons for tokens and food that will actually save you a ton of cash. No, I do not work for Chuck E. Cheese Corporate, but dude, it was like free money!)
(Oh lord, first Chuck E. Cheese, now excitedly discussing the merits of coupons. Next up, high-waisted mom jeans and Sunny Delight. "Sunny D? Hey, your mom's cool!")
.jpg)
Anyway, it was fun is all I'm saying. We even accrued enough tickets by the end of the afternoon to cash in for one of those big, novelty rainbow lollipops at the prize desk, which was listed for the price of 200 tickets--a ridiculous-sounding number of tickets, until you realize that the cash value of each ticket was, like, a penny. And yes, we did play Skee-ball, though Cal had some questionable gamesmanship and insisted on not only standing on the Skee-ball ramp, but winging the ball overhand like a baseball. (Luckily there were not that many people there, so the only head trauma sustained was his own.)
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So anyway, Happy New Year! Hope everyone is starting off the year right, and I for one am so glad not to have to be giving birth or taking care of a newborn right now, because the dizzying ease of having only one child to care for is just so freeing.
Fine, endlessly gestating gigantic fetus. Just stay up in there. Just stay up in there FOREVER.
(Reverse psychology, see.)
.jpg)
Today, lacking anything else entertaining to do (the weather outside was sunny, but a bit cold to stay at the playground for anything more than half an hour or so), we decided to take a family trip to Chuck E. Cheese. That's right, Chuck E. Cheese. Remember when we used to live in Manhattan and, like, went to museums and street fairs and crap? THOSE DAYS ARE OVER. Now we go to the equivalent of a kiddie casino and eat pizza while watching animatronic mice sing cover versions of 80's pop standards. Stay classy, Atlanta!
.jpg)
Cal was excited to go initially, but as many of you know, three year-olds are not quite sane, and because we offended him in some way (I believe it had to do with the fact that we insisted that his carseat harness did in fact have to be buckled while the car was moving) he screamed that he WANTED TO GO HOME! WANT TO GO HOME! DON'T DRIVE THE CAR! STOP! DON'T WANT TO GO HAVE FUN! the entire ride there, and once we had finally arrived, refused to get out of the car. Oh, this poor kid, whose cruel, heartless parents wanted to take him to Chuck E. Cheese to play Skee-ball and eat pizza. Clearly abusive, authorities should be alerted immediately.
.jpg)
Luckily (for all) he warmed up once he actually allowed himself to be physically dragged into the place and saw all the rides and video games and balls and (best of all) "money" that he was allowed to put inside the coin slots to participate in each activity. We gave him a little cup of those play tokens to run around with, and I think that may have been the highlight of his day, because he was guarding those slugs like Gollum. (Tip for those interested in going to Chuck E. Cheese with their own thankless children: go register at the Chuck E. Cheese site online and you will be e-mailed some coupons for tokens and food that will actually save you a ton of cash. No, I do not work for Chuck E. Cheese Corporate, but dude, it was like free money!)
(Oh lord, first Chuck E. Cheese, now excitedly discussing the merits of coupons. Next up, high-waisted mom jeans and Sunny Delight. "Sunny D? Hey, your mom's cool!")
.jpg)
Anyway, it was fun is all I'm saying. We even accrued enough tickets by the end of the afternoon to cash in for one of those big, novelty rainbow lollipops at the prize desk, which was listed for the price of 200 tickets--a ridiculous-sounding number of tickets, until you realize that the cash value of each ticket was, like, a penny. And yes, we did play Skee-ball, though Cal had some questionable gamesmanship and insisted on not only standing on the Skee-ball ramp, but winging the ball overhand like a baseball. (Luckily there were not that many people there, so the only head trauma sustained was his own.)
.jpg)
So anyway, Happy New Year! Hope everyone is starting off the year right, and I for one am so glad not to have to be giving birth or taking care of a newborn right now, because the dizzying ease of having only one child to care for is just so freeing.
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