Getting Caught Up

I consider myself to be fairly objective and logical, able to see things as they are, as opposed to seeing them through a lens clouded by bias and emotion. Which makes it all the more maddening, when Hannah flashes her gummy grin, to see myself transformed into a driveling Elmer Fudd on helium. She's just too darn cute for my own good. I know that I'm just expressing eons of evolutionary programming designed to trick me into taking good care of helpless little creatures with oversized heads and large low-set eyes, but I'm already prepared to hand over the car keys if she asks. Good thing I have a few years to steel myself against her charms.

I couldn't decide which of the following pictures to post, so here's both of them. I noticed yesterday that there was a spot of sunlight coming through a high fake-stained-glass lunette window (that means "half circle", for you guys out there) in the guest bedroom, that would make a good spotlight for a portrait.



We visited the pulmonologist (lung doctor) on thursday, to get Hannah's monthly RSV shot and a quick checkup. It was amusing to watch the doctor flip back and forth between last month's report and this month's report when checking her weight gain, muttering "three pounds?". Apparently, preemies on oxygen don't typically gain weight as well as Hannah has been doing, since they use up calories breathing that would otherwise go toward growth. Hannah was 7 lbs 15 oz last month and 10 lbs 11 oz this time.

The doctor avoids any firm estimate of when Hannah can ditch the cannula, probably so that we don't subconsciously rush her into it or build ourselves up for disappointment or worry if we don't hit a certain date. But he seems to agree that since she has gone from 400 ml to 125 ml in the past two months and is still gaining weight like gangbusters, she probably won't need it more than another month. In any case, we've gotten pretty used to the oxygen routine, so it isn't a big issue. The only time it really gets in the way is when she's laying on her stomach for "tummy time", which is how they exercise the neck and shoulder muscles prior to crawling. When in that position, the nasal cannula rubs against the play mat and tends to pop out of her nose.

We're finally getting caught up with chores after the holidays. My mom was here for the month before Christmas, and I'm afraid we got spoiled not having to do all the chores ourselves. Between work and crucial baby care duties (like singing the Gilligan's Island theme song to get a smile), there just doesn't seem to be enough time to clean floors and wash clothes.