Camera Ham...
Going for the Forbidden Cord...
The Ridiculous Snow Suit!
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Saturday, January 23, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Up and Down
Mostly, the hours sing by every day. He's an entirely new child, removed from the stress and boredom of hospital life. He explores the entire house in great detail whenever he's not stuffing his little face with exciting new foods. He's almost always in a fantastic mood.
I'm experiencing various emotions hourly. I wrap his happy little self around me as much as possible. Once in a while I feel sadness for those who aren't as lucky as us creep into my bubble. It seems that just as quickly as we were dumped into the middle of this vast community borne of necessity, we breezed right out. Faces of children and parents we've come to know haunt me. This is yet another example of when superpowers would come in really handy.
I'm excited to get my business rolling again and fearful that my first real chance at lighting it up full time might flop. I've tried twice before to go full time, but road blocks spelling out K-A-L-E-B have shut me down. I don't have any hard feelings about that, rather I'm simply trying to soak in the wholesome goodness that is him. I don't want to become so busy that I miss out on things. The worst thing for me would be for my head to become so wrapped up in work that I can't see this precious gift that is my family right in front of me. A very wonderful soul already taught me the joy of appreciating every moment in its singular entirety and I don't want to lose that lesson to ambition again.
It's almost an out-of-body experience, being home and finished. We still have a few appointments and minor surgeries. There's a strong sense of inertia, like a canon has shot us out into open air and we need to learn how to use our wings all over again. We're really enjoying settling new patterns and are so happy that we're not where we were professionally before this all started. The tingling fears of taking risks are settled with gut feelings of assuredness that this is our correct path. We love being entrepreneurs, are organised and conservative with our lifestyle and already feel healthier without the career stressors of past days.
I'm experiencing various emotions hourly. I wrap his happy little self around me as much as possible. Once in a while I feel sadness for those who aren't as lucky as us creep into my bubble. It seems that just as quickly as we were dumped into the middle of this vast community borne of necessity, we breezed right out. Faces of children and parents we've come to know haunt me. This is yet another example of when superpowers would come in really handy.
I'm excited to get my business rolling again and fearful that my first real chance at lighting it up full time might flop. I've tried twice before to go full time, but road blocks spelling out K-A-L-E-B have shut me down. I don't have any hard feelings about that, rather I'm simply trying to soak in the wholesome goodness that is him. I don't want to become so busy that I miss out on things. The worst thing for me would be for my head to become so wrapped up in work that I can't see this precious gift that is my family right in front of me. A very wonderful soul already taught me the joy of appreciating every moment in its singular entirety and I don't want to lose that lesson to ambition again.
It's almost an out-of-body experience, being home and finished. We still have a few appointments and minor surgeries. There's a strong sense of inertia, like a canon has shot us out into open air and we need to learn how to use our wings all over again. We're really enjoying settling new patterns and are so happy that we're not where we were professionally before this all started. The tingling fears of taking risks are settled with gut feelings of assuredness that this is our correct path. We love being entrepreneurs, are organised and conservative with our lifestyle and already feel healthier without the career stressors of past days.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Finally some photos!
And still we wait to be discharged. Won't happen until his counts recover and they're taking their time. Meanwhile, we're threatened with antibiotics at every teething temperature fluctuation. The state of his posterior has us holding them back with sticks. Three days of IV means not 20 minutes between soaking diapers, which is NOT conducive to healing raw skin.
He's slowly pulling through this latest teething round. Still many happy moments for the impossibly wonderful little man.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Is It Just Me?
I cling desperately to the evidence of longer daylight hours. It's somehow so exciting, the prospect of more time under the sun. This year, it almost seems to announce our impending freedom.
It's just so oppressively 'Hibernate', the early darkness mixed with breath-stealing cold. You know the cold... it freezes your nosehairs together within seconds of emerging from the violent cloud of heat as you and it pours out of your house. Gahg. Everything you touch seems to scream of fear that it's going to break - your car, the screen door, even your boots protest with loud squeaks across hard-packed snow.
By why on earth am I contemplating such things on an unseasonally warm day. Even while I revel in the rare luxury of breathing in warm moist air tonight, I know the truth. It'll be one slick guantlet on the roads in the morning!
We've had more teething setbacks and the alarm bells went off when he spiked a little teething fever. "Better safe than sorry". They need a parrot on the floor. This round with the teeth has incited more abrupt and discouraging results. I had to laugh at myself as I thought of how a severe diaper rash is often a parents' first object of helplessness and heartbreak. It took me a minute to remember that it wasn't our first. That is the gift of time, I suppose. Already, it dulls and rounds the acute points of trials endured, helps to (almost) forget and march on to the next mountain.
I have a personal goal that I hope to master in the coming year. If I cannot do it in that time, I fear an undesireable pattern will be set. I want to make an effort not to "wear" this event of my family's. You know the people who cling to tragedies through their lives, brandishing them about as though they were a physical shield that allowed them a pass. I'm not naturally the loud martyr-type, but alone in my room, so to speak, I really feel the deepness of this particular hit to my whole. Even as we are a success, and even as I appreciate how many people don't get to keep their babies, even as I appreciate how much harder others have to fight, I mourn all that he's already been through. I feel it is a selfish indulgence but I cannot help it.
It's almost over.
It's just so oppressively 'Hibernate', the early darkness mixed with breath-stealing cold. You know the cold... it freezes your nosehairs together within seconds of emerging from the violent cloud of heat as you and it pours out of your house. Gahg. Everything you touch seems to scream of fear that it's going to break - your car, the screen door, even your boots protest with loud squeaks across hard-packed snow.
By why on earth am I contemplating such things on an unseasonally warm day. Even while I revel in the rare luxury of breathing in warm moist air tonight, I know the truth. It'll be one slick guantlet on the roads in the morning!
We've had more teething setbacks and the alarm bells went off when he spiked a little teething fever. "Better safe than sorry". They need a parrot on the floor. This round with the teeth has incited more abrupt and discouraging results. I had to laugh at myself as I thought of how a severe diaper rash is often a parents' first object of helplessness and heartbreak. It took me a minute to remember that it wasn't our first. That is the gift of time, I suppose. Already, it dulls and rounds the acute points of trials endured, helps to (almost) forget and march on to the next mountain.
I have a personal goal that I hope to master in the coming year. If I cannot do it in that time, I fear an undesireable pattern will be set. I want to make an effort not to "wear" this event of my family's. You know the people who cling to tragedies through their lives, brandishing them about as though they were a physical shield that allowed them a pass. I'm not naturally the loud martyr-type, but alone in my room, so to speak, I really feel the deepness of this particular hit to my whole. Even as we are a success, and even as I appreciate how many people don't get to keep their babies, even as I appreciate how much harder others have to fight, I mourn all that he's already been through. I feel it is a selfish indulgence but I cannot help it.
It's almost over.
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