2 months

Eric is 2 months old today and guess what? He is intentionally batting at the giraffes that swing over his bouncy seat. He's growing up already!

Futility

Thanksgiving around here was more exciting than we anticipated. First, we had fantastic guests: Grandma Patti was up for the weekend; Grandma Leslie and Grandpa Yves came up for a Sunday Thanksgiving dinner, which was actually going to be at lunch.

We had planned well. Pies were baked or bought. Side dishes were prepared. Turkey was dry-brined (yum). But we did NOT expect the oven to go haywire, first shutting itself off several times & then, clearly miffed at our continued attempts to cook Thanksgiving dinner, deciding that only the top element should work, thus cooking only half the turkey. Once we accepted the reality of our situation (aka after the oven turned off a few times but before the element conked out), Grandma Patti embarked, dinnerless, on her drive home, while Grandma Leslie and Grandpa Yves sent us upstairs to nap (boys, parents, the whole shebang).

Eventually we did have a lovely (half) turkey dinner (the cooked half, never fear) and afterward we went to the park to play. Thomas was wearing some size 2T pants that are far too big in the waist (a regular problem). André had attempted to remedy the situation by tucking T's sweater into his pants, but hard playing at the park does not go well with oversize pants and the sweater had to be re-tucked multiple times.

Finally, Thomas approached us, once again holding one side of his pants bunched up in his fist. André said, "Should I tuck your sweater in again, Bear, or is it futile?"

Without missing a beat, Thomas looked up at him with all the wisdom of a two-year-old and said, "It's futile." And off he went to play.

Happy Thanksgiving!

One month

Eric is one month old! He's cooing and gurgling, and just today (Thursday the 23rd) I saw him smile, possibly on purpose. Mind you, he did not smile at me - oh no, he smiled in delight at the black and white design André put on the living room ceiling this weekend and which he has been staring at, enraptured, since Sunday night. (You may remember that Kim & Bridget came up with the brilliant idea of decorating the ceiling over the area where I nurse & over the change table when they visited after Thomas was born. Well, we're at it again - I swear we should market this idea!)

Eric watches the world

Eric remains an observant, relaxed baby. He looks at things so hard & for so long that sometimes I find myself looking, too, just to see if I can fathom how new the world is to him. Even Thomas tries to get his attention when he's looking hard at something. And, more and more, Eric's attention is focused on us. He seems to be recognizing us and his gaze will follow us around the room as he lays in his bouncy seat.

More? Well, these days Eric's got his Daddy's hairline - though it appears to be slowly morphing into his Grandpa Dave's "high forehead". Yup, Eric seems to be losing his hair (though he still has some fuzz on his ears - adorable). I'm fascinated because Thomas more or less kept his hair and it just turned lighter and lighter until one day he was a blond. We'll see what happens with Eric. I'm increasingly convinced that he will have dark eyes, too.

Our Wild Thing offers his brother a suce

Final note, Eric is nothing if not an efficient baby. As we learn together how to nurse, he is working on managing milk flow. Now, most babies have their own techniques, but last week I watched as Eric latched on to get the milk to let down, then pulled off entirely & opened his mouth slightly & just let the milk flow in - without even sucking! I'd call him "clever", but the word "lazy" springs to mind, too. Either way, I'm having to teach him to suck throughout an entire nursing session because we don't want my milk to dry up in a few more weeks. Silly kid.

Sofia, Thomas & Finn at home

As for Thomas, he remains delightful with everyone but me - and sometimes with me, too. This week they reorganized the rooms at his daycare, so he is once again in a classroom with his best buds, Finn & Sofia. So far the teachers haven't told us that they've been too wild, but I know they're all excited. At home, Thomas has been building forts from kitchen chairs (which he then uses to prevent me from getting him dressed), and he's really really excited by Thomas the Tank Engine. We have a book with ALL the Thomas stories, and lately that's almost all we read. Plus, it sometimes has to go into his crib during nap time, in case he needs to read a little on his own. In fact, as we paged through a magazine with homemade Halloween costumes, he found an advertisement with a Thomas costume & he has asked to "just look at it" several days in a row now. Hmm... I think I know what Thomas will be for Halloween. (And here I thought he was going to be a lion.)

The first week on our own

So much to say, and so little time. I haven't written a thing about all the grandparent visits (and help). I don't know how we would have made it through the first few weeks without all the help from Shirley, Patti, Donna & Jim. And, of course, we loved seeing Grandma Leslie and Grandpa Yves. Grandparents just can't be beat!

Nor have I written much about Thomas, who is a fantastic big brother and who has been adjusting very well. Ok, truth: Thomas has been adjusting well for the most part: he's super with Eric, but he's still two and would very much like to have more of our attention - preferably all of it all of the time! André came up with a great metaphor a few days ago to explain how odd this must be for Thomas. It's a little as if I said to André, "I'm going to bring home a new husband. He's going to be really nice and I'm sure eventually you two will get along. Naturally, I'll have to pay some extra attention to him, and I hope you'll help to make him feel at home." If this would be disconcerting to an adult, imagine how odd having a new baby come home must feel for a toddler. Luckily Thomas is still the apple of our eye. Cliché though it is, there's nothing like a baby to make you realize how big your toddler is. (And, in reading through the last posts I put up, I recognize that I stopped writing in part because I was having trouble finding ways to write about how great we thought Thomas was without bragging. I mean, we're just a little biased!)

Yesterday, Friday (because who knows when I'll actually publish this post), was our first day completely on our own. André had a terrible week at work - one of the worst he's ever had, according to him; what a way to start back after a new baby. Shirley & Jim helped us get through Monday, then Thomas was in daycare Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday. Then it was Friday. I have cleverly enrolled in a music class on Friday mornings with my friend Allison. It took an hour to get Thomas dressed, but I was feeling very pleased with myself when we arrived to class on time and Eric slept through the whole thing so I could pay attention to Thomas.

I felt significantly less proud a few minutes later as I tried to park in front of a coffee shop. Eric had screamed almost from the minute we got into the car. Thomas was highly distressed by Eric's crying and was talking VERY LOUDLY to tell me about how unhappy Eric was. I got upset & my milk let down. And then I tried to parallel park - while a dump truck driver shook his head and generally made it clear that he was unimpressed with my efforts. (Sidenote: I lived in DC for 8 years with only street parking. I am an EXCELLENT parallel parker. Usually.) To park, I had to stop traffic on a narrow, busy street. The driver was watching, the kids were screaming, and within seconds I began to cry, much to the driver's disgust (and my shame). Luckily I had the good sense to pull out and drive around the block once in order to calm myself. I managed to parallel park in another spot almost right away.

Even better, when we got inside (me carrying Eric on my shoulder because I could not bring myself to leave him in the carseat carrier for even one more minute - even though I had also discovered that he had a massive diaper blowout - Thomas holding my hand and trying to show me all the display windows we passed), my friend Allison, whose daughter Sophie is Thomas's age and whose daughter Rachel is 3 months old, took one look at me and said, "Sit down. I'll buy tea and muffins." and she did. Sometimes other moms make everything better.

And the afternoon went pretty well, so I figure if this is our first day alone at the end of the first week without grandparents and a terrible work-week for André, well, maybe we'll survive!

PS - Monday was ok and this week has been not too bad. Sleep deprivation is setting in and Thomas has really decided to challenge me on every boundary. (Did I mention taking an hour to get him dressed last week? Argh!) Of course he's just darling at school & with his father. But girlfriends have kicked into gear & I'm getting lots of support. One of them shared her "worst parenting moment" (let's just say it ended with everyone crying) and shared her mantra "calm blue ocean" which is at least as good as "this, too, shall pass." Forward and onward!

three weeks

So it's been almost three weeks since Eric was born and I've been wanting and wanting to write. We know we probably won't have any more children, and somehow this makes me even more aware of the importance of every moment of Eric's babyhood. I've been trying and trying to remember the first few weeks of Thomas's life but the memories are so wrapped up with who he is now that I can no longer trust them to be what they were in the moment. People want to know if Thomas and Eric are alike - they certainly look alike (though I think Eric is going to have brown eyes) - but the truth is that I don't know. All I know for sure right now is Eric.

Eric was quiet & sleepy for the first few days. He seemed to sleep all the time, and he ate voraciously, especially once my milk came in (at only 2+ days). At almost 3 weeks he's still an every-two-hours kind of kid (well, more or less), though he's starting to spread out his night feeds a little bit.

I think Eric slept for the first 5 days. I remember Thomas being a very alert baby, so I was starting to wonder what was going on. Then, poof, Eric started to look around. He examines everything with great attention. He pulls his tiny eyebrows together, furrowing his brow as if he's a 60-year-old curmudgeon, not a newborn, as if he's trying to discern exactly what's going on. Today - he's 19 days old! - he was staring and staring at Thomas, as if to say, "Ok, I see you. Who ARE you?"

Eric is also very good with a suce. I mean, this kid took all of about 5 minutes to figure out how to keep a pacifier in his mouth. Part of me would love for him to be one of those babies who's not interested in a soother. (I say this as I contemplate how best to wean Thomas from his. He doesn't use it at all at daycare, but it is permanently in his mouth at home.) But I don't think I get a choice in this one: Eric knows that sucking is calming (it's actually an instinct!) and Thomas spends a fair amount of his time offering Eric a suce (even if Eric is asleep), so I think I may be outnumbered here.

Final observation for 3 weeks: Eric is a fantastic communicator for someone who can't control any of his limbs or his vocal cords. When he's done eating, he clamps his mouth firmly shut and nothing will pry it open again. The other day I dressed him in a cute little outfit (which he promptly spat all over) and when I went to put the matching hat on, he SCREECHED. I took the hat off and he was instantly quiet. Ok, kid, no hat.

There is, of course, more to say, but no more time (it's already long past the day I started this), so I will publish and write more later.

Welcome Eric!

Eric Sebastian Bernier joined our family at 9:49 pm on Tuesday, August 24th. He weighed 8 lbs 15.2 oz (a healthy boy and considerably bigger than his brother, who was 7 lbs 5.5 oz) and had a full head of dark hair. We think he's perfect.

More birth details here: My water broke at 8:30 in the morning (as I was heading up the stairs to retrieve Thomas's shoes). A quick phone call to the midwife confirmed that there was no reason to panic, so I suggested André go to work & finish up any last minute things, and I called my friend Lindsay (who is having her second boy in Sept) to confirm that she wouldn't mind having a coffee date with a woman who might be in labour. She was happy to take my mind off the impending arrival. Bridgehead did us some good (and no one there knew I was wandering about wearing adult diapers - whew!), but eventually I decided that it was really time to go home. I took a short nap & woke up with some contractions. From there, things were apparently "textbook".

The midwife (Suzanne) came to check on me at 3:30. The doula (Susan) came, too. We sent them both home, only to call Susan in a bit of a panic around 6. Things were moving along. By 7:30 we were at the hospital and checked in. (The car ride there was something else - even getting into the car attracted the attention of one of our across-the-street neighbors. And André gets points for being a fantastic dad-to-be driver - he did NOT speed & took the bumps and corners very gently.) The labour moved right along - and lest anyone forget, contractions hurt. Sometimes I was able to think of them as "pressure" (as per the doula), but most of the time I was not. I asked for an epidural as we got to the hospital, and Suzanne was doing all the things necessary to make that happen, but it was a slow process. This was complicated by the fact that I was dehydrated & needed an IV (you must have an IV for an epidural). After Suzanne tried & failed and a OB nurse tried and failed, they called a nurse who used to work on the oncology ward. She did the trick & I had an IV - but too late. When Suzanne checked, I was 6 cm dilated, so she went running down the hall to get the anesthesiologist, but the very next contraction found me wanting to push. Oops - I was already 9ish cm. And then I was pushing.

Pushing without an epidural is very different than pushing with one. With Thomas I was told to push in a certain rhythm because the epidural dulls the sensations (duh, that's the point). With Eric I was allowed to do what my body told me. At first I was frightened & very unsure of myself - in fact, I was convinced that I was doing it wrong. But eventually I let go (I really didn't have any choice) & things went very smoothly. Eric came out rarin' to go - with one hand next to his head & the cord wrapped twice around his neck. Luckily, a wrapped cord is only a problem in the movies (at least, that's what Suzanne told me and it certainly wasn't a problem here) and Eric was crying lustily and on my chest almost immediately.

Interesting notes: first, Eric had a very long umbilical cord - Suzanne couldn't get over it (and if this weren't a family blog, I'd even consider posting pictures). Second, we hadn't chosen Eric's name before he was born. André knew immediately that he looked like an Eric, but it took a few minutes before I could see anything but the top of his head. We thought we knew what middle name we would use (we had chosen a family name), but as André wrote out Eric's name for the first time we hesitated. A good long look at our boy convinced us that he was Eric Sebastian - and that's who he is!

Cat attack!

A scary moment this evening. Thomas and I were on the front lawn waiting impatiently for the garbage truck to make its weekly appearance when the neighborhood bully cat showed up. Thomas wanted to pet him, but the cat was stalking Babbington, so I distracted the boy. Clearly I did not distract him enough, however, because a few minutes later Thomas ran towards the porch steps - and right between the two cats.

Before I could even see what was happening, the orange cat jumped at Thomas and ran away.

Then there was one of those crazy moments in time where everything seemed perfectly normal... until it was very clear that it was not: Thomas started to scream, Babbington attacked the orange cat, and I realized that Thomas was bleeding.

The cat had scratched T's forehead - luckily the scratch ended at his eyebrow, but it took me a minute of trying to wipe away the blood and pry open T's eyes (which were screwed shut as he screamed) to determine that his eye was unscathed. As I did all this, I cradled his head in my hand and moved toward the kitchen to get a clean cloth. Once there, I reached for the cloth only to realize that my hand was covered in blood.

I'd just like to say that the rational knowledge that "heads wounds bleed" is cold comfort when your child's blood is all over your hand. Or at least it was for me. I felt dizzy - so I quick picked up the phone & called a neighbor - thank the heavens for speed dial!

By the time Karine arrived - breathless with her two-year-old son tucked under one arm - I had regained my cool. There was a lot of blood on T's clothes, but I'd determined that he really just had a couple of ugly scratches. To help me maintain my new-found calm, Thomas touched his head and said, "Meow" then began to play with his buddy. Apparently he thought this was some elaborate plan to get him a play date!

André came home & after we talked it over he went to the neighbors and politely asked if the cat has its shots and if they would consider neutering it (since it is truly a menace). He does have shots but is sadly unlikely to lose his manhood anytime in the near future. Since André spoke with the husband, I'm hoping that the wife (and mother of their two small children) will be suitably horrified at the story to insist that the cat be neutered - but I'm not holding my breath.

I'm still a little surprised by how horrible it all felt in the moment. I guess that's why I'm writing about it. The short story is that my kid got scratched by a cat - and that's really not much of a story - but I'll tell you what, I was pretty shaken up by the whole thing - the surprise cat attack, the blood... I don't know what it was, but I know that I don't really want to repeat anything like that in the near future!

(And by the way, it has not escaped my attention that today is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall - an incredibly momentous occasion which I remember very clearly. And yet when I felt moved to write tonight it was about the minutiae of domestic life. I suppose that's what this blog is all about - it's certainly where my life is right now.)