The cute might kill me.

Seriously. It might.

Van's hips are fine. He has also gained almost 3 and a half pounds, and has grown over 2 inches. I don't know how to dress a child that has no visible bones.

At his one month appointment, our pediatrician made the comment that he was very glad that we were finally talking about normal baby problems like colic. Now, I adore our pediatrician. At our very first appointment, when Scarlett was 5 days old, he quoted Frank Deford to me. FRANK DEFORD. And it wasn't even Wednesday!

But when he said he was glad to be talking about colic, it was all I could do to keep from offering to continue the conversation at 1am. Because I'd be up. Swaddling and shushing, and wondering if crate training would work as well as it did with Alice.


Oh, I jest. We wouldn't put Van in a crate. It's not soundproof.

"Can I ask a question? When did I get to be 39?"

"The better question is when did I get to be old enough to be married to someone who is 39?"

Happy Birthday, hubby mine. Do you want me to make you some chocolate cupcakes? I owe you after you sat through 2 hours of Garrison Keillor.

Of course, the Stanley Cup finals were on this week, so we could probably call it even.

Although I might still make you cupcakes. I'm pretty sure we'd find a few takers in this house.

Update. Because I'm not really interested in watching "Password".

As I mentioned, Van had an ultrasound on his hips to check for signs of Hip Dysplasia. We were going to go over the results with our orthopod this past Friday. However, a couple of days after the appointment, our pediatrician called us to let us know that radiology had sent the results to their office, and that everything looked normal. We decided to go ahead with the ortho appointment anyway, because we thought it would ease the last of our worries.

Alas, Scarlett thwarted that plan by waking up very sick on Friday. We had to cancel Van's appointment and schedule one for Scarlett, which revealed a very run of the mill ear infection. But let me tell you, when my kid is too sick to provide a running commentary on life, and just wants to lay on me and whimper, then she is really sick.

The upside is that I think that for the time, Van is in the clear. We'll reschedule and confirm, but I'm feeling optimistic.

I can't do anything about the fact that due to his appetite, he's rapidly developing rubber band wrists, but frankly, those are so delicious that I don't want to.

Captain Obvious.

Here, she splashes.


Here she said to me "I wet." And looked concerned.

Here, he sighed and thought "I'm really tired of just being put places."

Day and Night.

See here, kid. I know you are new in town, but this? This here is day. During the day, we like to nap, sure, but the lions share of our sleeping is done at night. Night - like when it's dark out? I see you looking around when I go in to replace the binky you've spit out, and I wonder what exactly you think you are watching. It's just you in a quiet dark room. My best advice as your mother would be to just go to sleep. For several hours. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

Blue.

Turn ons: Eating. Sleeping. Being held and jiggled slightly.

Turn offs: Being naked and then made clean. Not pooping. Prop 8.

Tomorrow we go for an ultrasound of Van's hips, then we'll meet with Dr. Mehlman and his crew next week to go over the results. Hopefully my uterus was a more hospitable place to be this time around, but we are open to the fact that he might follow in his sister's footsteps - if only to save ourselves the blindsiding of last time.

I've gotten to be proficient at hip x-rays, so we'll see how I do trying to read the ultrasound screen over the shoulder of the radiology tech. Because I'm sure they love that.

See, there she is.

I can only hope that his sense of smell isn't fully developed yet, because ye Gods, that dog needs a bath.