Last week we watched the Emmy's because Millie is a closet "Pretty People on the Big Screen" stalker (if anyone wants to get her a baby present, she would devour both Maxy B's frozen yogurt and/or a People, US, or other gossip filled magazine.) Anyways, speaking of the first 24 hours; we saw Keifer Southerland (Jack Bauer) and the (then unknown gender) baby starts kicking like crazy. I figured it was because it was a boy and he was hoping Jack Bauer would start shooting people's kneecaps. Millie figured it was more likely that the baby was a girl and has the same crush on Jack Bauer as her mother has ("Not Keifer, just Jack Bauer . . . you understand" - direct quote from Millie). Anyways; I guess she wins.
Speaking of winning. Mil and I bet on 5 catagories a couple of months ago to see who would get to spend the jar of change in our bedroom on the discretionary activity of his/her choosing (golf or spa). Catgories were: height, weight, date of birth, time of birth, sex. We tied on height, Mil won weight, and I won the rest. But if you think I could go play golf with a clear conscience while my wife stays home with a crying baby all because I had the lucky guess as to how soon she would go into excrusiating pain and major surgery . . . well you're wrong. I'm giving up my 'rights to golf' for 'rights to live guilt free'.
We got to sleep a fair amount last night. Grayson sleep in the nursery from 3-5am to give us a chance to sleep worry-free. Mil's eating real food now. Still in a lot of pain when she gets up for the occasional walk to the bathroom and down the hall. Grayson got to have some really special time with Jon (mil's dad):
Susan (mil's mom):
George (susan's husband):
maymay (my mom):
and peeps (my dad):
She also saw an assortment of friends, Sassers:
Whitney and Ollie Hannam and Brian and Anna May (not pictured . . . oops, my bad)
Highlights today: Mil walked down the hall, we had some Maxy B's frozen yogurt, breastfeeding went really well, we both got to take a showers, this
Lowlight today: I changed my fourth diaper today and Grayson cried for a total of 20 seconds for only one of the changes, the rest she just grunted. It's a 'lowlight' just like if you unloaded the dishwasher your first four times and didn't break a plate . . . guess who gets to unload it the next time? Just kidding. I'm a pro now and enjoy every minute of it.
Tonight I told Grayson the same thing my dad told me everynight when he tucked me into bed: "Grayson, I wouldn't trade you for a truckload of dead rats." (In case you were wondering, version B was always "If I had two dead rats, I'd give you one")