So yeah. Since I wrote last, C stopped drinking milk boppies. We found out Katie is pregnant. We had Christmas. And Katie has been incredibly sick with “morning” sickness, to the point that I have had a lot of one-on-one time with the toddler, who clearly would rather spend time with mama instead of dad. I’ve been having a lot of fires in my fireplace, which makes me sleepy, and I tend to want to be in bed this time of year at nine.

And it’s almost my birthday. So there’s that. I’m desperately trying to convince my amazing, wonderful, supremely talented, totally awesome wife to get me the new and totally awesome Google Nexus One, not in stores until next week. I keep sending her pestering emails about every latest update.

So if you want me to write more, you should help me by pestering her, too. Just leave a comment or send her an email and tell her how much I deserve the cool new phone. I didn’t get coal in my stocking this year (thank goodness), so maybe there’s hope.

Traveling at Godspeed

It’s almost my birthday

Which reminds me of a pet peeve. Why do people say “it took a fraction of the time?” I know I’m being ridiculous, but every time I hear that, I think about how fractions can be small (1/100) or large (100/1). So “a fraction” is a pretty meaningless thing to say, at least technically.

Anyway, today ends one chaotic week. Katie has been working crazy hard lately, so I’ve been doing more home and family stuff than usual and have spent less time with friends, technology, music, and other leisurely stuff. But it’s only a short-term thing, so there’s an end in sight.

Oh, yeah, and Happy Birthday Katie!!!

Traveling at Godspeed

Did some tweaking

Morning update:

No change.

No change, no change, no change, no change.

Damn.

Katie asked the nurse “Do people usually have C-Sections after they labor for five days?”

The nurse said “nobody lets themselves labor this long.”

edit: I forgot to mention one other thing. At about 4 this morning, the baby’s heart rate dropped. They were obviously able to get it back pretty promptly, but that’s one more sign that it’s time.

Rereading it, I am surprised to find myself fighting back tears.  But my post at five hours later was a lot more cheerful:

Introducing:

Weighing in at six pounds, twelve ounces, and 19 1/2 inches long:

Happy birthday, Charlotte. I love you, and I’m proud to know you.

c

Traveling at Godspeed

Happy birthday, Charlotte!

But I’m not sad because I want her to stay a baby. Let me make this super perfectly clear: I want C to grow up. I want her to achieve milestones. I am glad that she can now walk and speak in entire sentences. I am glad that she brushes her own teeth (sort of), and I look forward to the day that she is potty trained.

Being sad that she is growing up doesn’t mean not wanting her to grow up.

It means being sad that I won’t get to do it again. I miss her tiny baby fingers not because I want her to have them still but because they will be the last tiny baby fingers of any baby I get to have.

I am not sad for her, I am sad for me. And that’s ok.

Traveling at Godspeed

It’s not that I don’t want her to grow up