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I’ve added more pictures to Sam’s album: “http://gallery2.accapehart.com/v/People/babycapehart/”:http://gallery2.accapehart.com/v/People/babycapehart/ The new stuff begins on “page 4”:http://gallery2.accapehart.com/v/People/babycapehart/?g2_page=4 . Also, a friend of mine who’s also a Live Journal user has set up a LJ version of my blog feed. That way, LJ users can read it from within LJ, and even “friend” it for easier access. The Live Journal URL for this blog is: “http://www.livejournal.com/users/choicywhiteboy/”:http://www.livejournal.com/users/choicywhiteboy/

Mom-mom left this morning. And while my life isn’t really one Simpsons reference after another, it feels a little bit like the “Sherry Bobbins” episode where a Mary Poppins-esque figure comes to the Simpson home. By the end of her stay, they’re all neat, well-attired, and speaking with British accents. But, the very instant she steps out of the house, they’re suddenly twice as bad as before she came. Truthfully, it’s not that bad (yet).

It is 7:30 PM and no nurse has called to say that (s)he will be there in about half an hour to stick needles in little Sam’s legs. No one is coming to weigh her. To ask how many wet and dirty diapers she had, to listen to her pulse, or to her breathing. The forms they filled out for each visit were entertaining, and at least a little troublesome. Mostly, they used the “6 Weeks — 16 Years of Age” form.

We have an “American Baby” magazine which has various developmental milestones for babies. One of the “Intellectual” milestones under the “1 Week” category is “Shuts out disturbing stimuli by lapsing into sleep.” This brought a couple of things to mind. Wouldn’t it be funny if this continued into adulthood? “Oh no! The Huns are invad…ZZZZZZZ” I wonder if that’s why she falls asleep in my arms so readily?

It has been pointed out in a couple of venues how remiss I’ve been in providing visual accompaniment to the Sam lifestyle. Fortunately, Mom-mom has taken several pictures, and posted them to her album at Sony’s image station. She invited me to it so that I could invite you to it: “http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2119303560&code=18674736&mode=invite”:http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2119303560&code=18674736&mode=invite

I was at PSU Altoona recently running errands and managed to see a few people. I was impressed by the number of people who are up to date on what’s going on with Carolyn, Sam and myself based on reading my blog. It’s still disarming when there are people in France (Salut Peggy, Salut Tara) who know more details about the birth of my child than my own parents. I am also amused by who does and doesn’t read my blog on campus.

I don’t like to ask for help. I was raised to be an independent and self-sufficient individual, given more freedom and responsibility than most my age. This is doubly true when what I ask for help on is something that I am not only capable of doing myself, but should have already done. And it’s still the more true when I’m asking of a community of friends who have already been so incredibly generous.

As we approach Sam’s one-week anniversary, there are a couple of elements of the birth story that I’ve not yet mentioned, but want to. But first, I can’t believe it’s been a whole week. Nor can I believe it’s been only a week. It seems a world ago that we were breathing through the contractions. At the same time, it’s been such a hectic whirlwind since, were there really 7 whole dark, night-like entities since then?

First rain First day of life without a hospital trip First projectile poop christening mom’s sweatpants more than 12 inches away! First poem read to her — E.A. Poe’s _The Raven_

I know, it’s well past time for an update. What can I say? Busy day. So far, in Sam’s life, there has not been a day when she has not had to go to the hospital. Hopefully, tomorrow will break this trend. I think I mentioned before that we’ve got home health nurses coming twice a day to inject Sam with ampacillin. So far, the two nurses we’ve had have been exceptionally caring and considerate people.