avery

Whaaaa?!

Funnest toy ever.  That tiny little head could be a tennis ball!  Mum rarely approves, even when she’s laughing just as hard.  She’s a very good mom.

It would be very cool if Little Pepper’s eyes stayed that colour.  A very rich dark blue gray.  But experience and research says this will most likely not be the case.  And the mighty Irish genes make brown a pretty safe bet.  We shall see.  She’s got Marjorie’s ears down to the tiniest detail.

Today!  We’ll brush past last night: three long three-stage feedings that really went without a hitch, and I slept like a baby (ha) between them, so other than the fact that we don’t feel particularly rested with continually interrupted sleep (hello, Geneva Convention), I have no complaints.  Today Lee and I hooked up over G+ to tinker a bit with our super secret project with unnamed A-List celeb for unnamed premium cable channel, and that was good.  Then I had to log off (do people still say that?) to run The Errand.  Regulation size and weight breast pumps are not conveniently sized.  And inside?  Dude, I had an air compressor one third the size for my car tires.  What, does medical equipment charge by the pound?  And it’s I-kid-you-not sea foam green.  I’m pretty sure the technology has updated at least incrementally since 1968, but clearly not the fashion sense.  But at least (around here) they come in non-descript medical green cases.  A guy like me carrying a breast pump might attract attention even in New York.  And with the 7 train down again, I had to take the long way home.

Speaking of medical things, we got our hospital bill for Avery’s birth.  Now, this is not counting the midwife.  That’s an entirely different and not inconsiderable expense.  No, this is just the hospital stay.  Ready for it?  Think about what you’d be out of pocket in Canada for four nights in a basic private room plus an emergency C-section.  I don’t actually know, but I believe it’s zero.  Please correct me if you know otherwise.  South of the border here in the third world of universal health care (read: there isn’t any), the bill is $24,217.00.

Twenty four thousand two hundred and seventeen dollars.

We have insurance.  It’s not cheap.  Oh no it is not.  But if you are thinking of having a baby in the states, and can afford to pay the deductible for a shared room (or more for private), then I suggest getting insurance first.  We officially got our money’s worth. To date, anyway.  I guess we have to experience a significant trauma every couple of years to make sure we’re cashing in.  Man, what a broken system.  No wonder people abuse it – on all sides, from patients to doctors to the insurance companies themselves.  Everybody is trying to get their own back.  So there’s your problem.

Anyway, gorgeous healthy baby girl.  How do you put a price on that?  So we’ll pay the deductible and the summary expenses and move on.  Best money we ever spent, no question.  I mean, lookit that face!

What a wacky little bunny.  My First Duckface™.

I know I’ve got some important things to do tomorrow, but for the life of me I can’t think of them.  Maybe sleep will help?  I know Monday is a big day.  Gotta take Avery to apply for her American passport.  Woowoo!  And I absolutely positively must make it to the Canadian Consulate to submit the application to renew my own passport, which expires rather too soon for comfort.  So our little family will be traipsing all over town on Monday.  I am glad she’s supplementing with formula.  Because even though it makes diapers far more… adventurous, it does make feeding in public a pretty casual thing.

Oh, I remember the most important thing for tomorrow.  Filling out all the paperwork.  There is a mystifying lot of it for a couple of passports.

Hope I’m not forgetting anything else…

It actually lists “Baby” as the last item on the packing list for my Diaper Dude bag.  Must be a thing that happens from time to time.

Maybe I should stuff her in there very first just to be safe?

Gramma and Grampa Taverner are headed back home in the morning.  That flew by.  Next time they see Avery she’ll be playing basketball!  A chubby six foot basketball player!

She hasn’t had any trouble with feeding since last night’s return-to-sender.  We reckon we just gave her too much – she kept drinking, so we kept trying to fill the tank.  We think we’ve found the rhythm now.  It will be a week of catching sleep maybe three hours at a stretch, spaced with one hour (45?) feedings.  If I don’t answer the phone before 11, you’ll know why.

Little Peppermint seems happier – and I’ll be danged if her belly ain’t twice the size it was this time yesterday.  Tomorrow it will all be baby fat.  Goodbye chicken wings!  She’ll be a Christmas Turkey just in time!  She’s calm and sociable, and all around seems back on track.  Whew.  More news as it happens.

There was a ton of other stuff I wanted to chat about, but here’s making good on my promise to go to bed earlier.  Bbye!

The Artist Ponders Her Muse.

Darling Avery was active last night.  I think we got about two hours sleep.  I have learned my lesson.  No epic post tonight.

We had a long night with her.  It wasn’t bad – she wasn’t screaming.  Just up and hungry.  And when I say “frequently”, keep in mind that from what we hear, this is more like typical.  So I’m not complaining.  But two hours sleep.  Bleh.

At our pediatrician appointment today, we received the usual round of OMGhowadorable and WhatAHealthyGirl, and Marjorie finally said, “So I’m wondering about her weight.  She nurses well, she has lots of energy, she seems very happy, but she seems small to me.”  The doc took another look, and replied, “Yep, she should be heavier.”

Thanks, doc.  Glad Marjorie spoke up so we didn’t leave for a month assuming all was well.

All is well.  Don’t panic.  Avery is tall – in the 96th percentile.  She’s healthy.  She’s happy.  All is good in the woods.  But she’s on the lean side of normal.  So, we are now supplementing with formula.  I’m excited.  Problem detected and solution implemented.  Let’s pack on the poundage.  Marjorie, being the devoted and wonderful mom that she is, took it a little harder, wondering if she could be doing anything differently.

(She couldn’t – everything is awesome – we apparently just have a baby who needs rocketfuel for breakfast)

Avery was shocked to find herself in my arms when the wet nipple came knocking.  This is not my usual seat.  What’s up, yo?  But we tinkered and shuffled and persisted, and once she got past the first new flavour she’s experienced since Dada’s fingertip, she decided she liked formula well enough to gulp it down.  Slow down there, speed racer.  Take a breath.  Have a nice burping or two on the way through that bottle.  Two bottles.  Thr– holy smokes, baby.  Over six hours she had more food than she usually gets in a day.  Doctor’s orders.  Sumo-size me.  She seemed totally at peace with the world when I swaddled her for bed, and put her down in the bassinet.  We hung out for fifteen minutes or so, chatting.  Then she calmly turned her head to the side and released back into the wild what looked like two bottles worth of formula.  It just kept coming.  Awesome.  Nearly floated her away.

We cleaned up, Avery still good as gold (until Mum changed her, but that’s hardly new).  Mum gave her a good meal from the All Natural Milk Bar, and we planned to give her just an ounce or two of formula to get some calories in her, but she went down like a stone.

So.  We’re expecting a hungry girl tonight.  Thus, I must bolt, if sleep there is to be had.

p.s: We had another great visit with Gramma Di & Grampa Bob.  Avery loves socializing on a full tummy.