Nick Update

As many of you know, Nick had a rough start.

First it was the lungs. We had to have those blown open with forced air in the ICU just minutes after he was born. That was fixed in the first 20 minutes or so of life, when they realized that his kidneys weren’t working quite right.

They jacked him into the machines and had him on IV feeding for a few days, and by three or four days into life, the old kidneys turned right on.

Then, it was the weight. When these kids are born, the first thing they do is lose weight. They lose a few ounces here and there and the generally accepted rule is to make sure that they’re back up to birth weight in two weeks.

We didn’t hit that. We were outside the normal range but a pretty sizable margin. Of course, that keeps the medical folks in a tizzy thinking that things still aren’t working, sending us to doc after doc, specialist after specialist, hypothesizing and theorizing…

That’s the space we’ve been in over the last five weeks.

Last Friday, Nick weighed in at 6 lbs 2 oz. That was up 6 oz from his weight of two weeks prior. There has been much stress around the old homestead because of that slow gain — we should be seeing about an oz of gain per day to make for solid normal growth.

Well, today, at our weekly weigh-in, Nick hit 6 lbs 8 oz. That’s six ounces up in just seven days. So, he’s cruising on the normal path, according to the pediatrician, and while they want us in again in a week, they’re finally confident that things are on the up and up.

Fatherhood: The Resurrection: Part II

When Sophie was gestating (I *heart* gerunds), I kept a fairly rigorous blog on the whole becoming a father process. I was a complete nut about it and thought, somehow, others would be as interested in the inner-workings as I was. In hindsight, the whole thing was clearly more for me which is, I think, as it should be.

Things are officially changing again. Kira is now 20 weeks along with our second child, heretofore referred to as “Seed2″ (sic) and today we saw the pictures. (Note new banner text on this page. It is so very 2001: A Space Odyssey.)

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Sophie The Bat

I took the girls to the Turkey Trot today, which stops up at the elephant pen at the zoo. They ended up taking an hour to walk the place after the race, during which time I was sound asleep in the car.

When we all finally reconviened, I asked Sophie what she liked about the zoo. She recounted the usual: elephants, girraffes, meerkats … she even picked up a lesser kudu this time. Then we got to the bats.

“What were the bats doing, Sophie?” Kira asked her when we got settled in the car.

“They were eating fruit and apples.”

I said, “Wait a minute. Does Sophie eat apples?”

Sophie thought hard for a second. “Yes.”

“And bats eat apples too?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Sophie, I think you’re a bat!”

She looked at me, then at her hands, then up at Kira.

“Mom. I think… I’m a bat!”

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Meaning of Life

Clearly, I’m on a “kid’s say the darndes things” kick. Acknowledged. Let’s move on to tonight’s tale.

Curt’s over for family dinner. We’re eating Yumm’s (cause they rock) and discussing how cool child development it. Sophie is talking about all the water we’re all drinking “… and Curt has water and mommy has some water and Sophie has water and so does Curt have some water…” etc.

Curt leans over and says to Sophie, “Sophie, what’s the meaning of life? What does it all mean?”

Sophie tilts her head to the side. She says “It means…” and holds us there, pregnant pause. I think she made eye contact with each of us in the span of about eight seconds. “It means… Curt’s house.”

So there we have it. Curt’s house is the meaning of life.

Amazing. Because of Pizza.

Right now, Kira is eating a wonderful Russian soup with beef and beets and onions — all good stuff. It’s wonderful, but not so much for 2-year-olds. So, I came in and whipped up a tortilla pizza with pepperoni and cheese and mushrooms and tossed it in the toaster oven. I gave it to Sophie and after one bite she says to Kira:

“My dad is just amazing.”

“Why is he amazing, Sophie?”

“Because of pizza!”

Most days, being a dad is fun. Some days, it’s simply exceptional.

This is SO just like the first time Sophie pooped in the potty

WIL WHEATON DOT NET: i haven’t felt so alive in years

And I mean that. I’ve been reading WWdN for long enough now — certainly over a year — and I have to say I’m proud of the guy. Proud like I’m proud of Sophie when she tries to say her own name. Or when she puts on her nice clean gloves and picks up mud. Or when she poops, and gets it all in the potty. All of these things have happened recently to me. And that’s how I know how happy Wil should be today. Congratulations on a job well done, Wil. You’re hands down one of the most honest writers I’ve had the pleasure to read and this has been a fantastic journey we’ve taken together. Let’s go to the mall and hang at the Apple store sometime, as long as your mom picks up.

Swath of Destruction

So, I’m home for lunch today and it was time to feed Sophie. I tried some soup. No go. I tried some cereal. No go. Finally, I tried some yogurt and with ground up pumpkin seeds in it and she was happy. So happy in fact that she proceeded to create one of the biggest messes I’ve seen since she learned to feed herself with a spoon. As it happens, I was off at the sink washing dishes, only vaguely aware of what was going on behind me. When I did turn around, there was Sophie, all right, covered in food and seeds, sound asleep.

Hanging out at the Potty with Sophie

I haven’t written much about Sohpie lately. Come to think of it, I haven’t written much about nuthin lately. And I think, as irony would have it, that’s because there’s simply so much going on.

Rather than boil it all down and catch up the annals of history with detail, I’ll boil it down to this. Sophie is 17 months old and this morning she went to the bathroom by herself. She was running around naked while Kira and I were getting ready for the day when she dissappeared for a few minutes. She came back into the room clapping and saying “YayYayYayYay!” Kira went into the bathroom and came back hollering “She gets it She gets it She gets it!” Which might as well have been “YayYayYay!” We all stood around the toilet and waved “Bye” at the pee as it flushed away.

These kids, they’re pretty amazing little creatures.

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Cats

Cassie was just sitting on the back of the couch and she started heaving. I said to Kira, I said “Get her!”

Kira must have mistook what I’d said. I’m sure she did because just at that moment, she ran over to the cat and CAUGHT THE VOMIT IN HER HANDS.

Strange.

Piano

The piano has arrived.

For months, we’ve been saying we wanted to have it here. My folks had been talking about getting it out here, selling their house and moving to Oklahoma for just about ever, but now, they’ve finally done it. At least, they sold the house. And that meant, get the piano to Peter.

So, I get this call from mother on Tuesday morning. She tells me that they can’t find a mover that can get the piano out of their house in time for closing, and could I see what I can find on the receiving end. I call around a few places and get on the horn with Dan, from Mark & Dan piano movers. He only does local moves, he says, but hang on a second. He puts me on hold.

When he comes back, I hear the static of a cell phone en route.

“I’ve got Chuck on the line here, Pete.”

“Hi, Chuck.”

“Yeah, hey there. I’m in a big old 75 foot mover and I’m pulling out of Chicago. I have room for just about the one piano so if you’ve got nothing else to get out to Portland, I think I could swing by Colorado Springs by about 12:30 tomorrow.”

Short story long, he had the piano in the truck on Wednesday, delivered to my house today.

Chuck was pretty amazing. He got the thing out of his truck, up the driveway, into the house and reconstructed all by himself. A 6 foot plus grand piano, and I didn’t lift a finger. Not a bad days work.

Thanks, Chuck. Your kids are fantastic, piano sounds great. Have a great three weeks off the road.

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