My Three Sons

Oliver is 12 days old today. He's opening his eyes more, gaining strength in his neck, arms and legs, and puttin' on some oz's. It's crazy to see him aging and making so many connections in such a short period of time. That said, he still has what appears to be a dried raisin trying to escape his abdomen, so some things never change.

He came home with us on Sunday the third, and that was not the most fun I've ever had behind the wheel of a car. I'm pretty sure I cursed to Hell every driver who cut me off, passed legally into my lane 50 feet ahead, or dared not come to a full stop at a stop sign. I felt like Frodo trying to safely deliver the ring to its resting place, while being assailed by orc-headed assholes at every turn.

Wow, this kid has a dad who makes LOTR references. He is in luck.

Fortunately, we got home without incident. Upon entering his new home, Oliver got to meet Toby and O'Ryan, our two cats. Here's a picture of the three of them snuggling:

Okay, so they're not quite there yet. But the cats also haven't hissed or batted at him, and he hasn't broken out in hives in their presence, so it's been a fair start. We've done our best to show Toby and O'Ryan plenty of attention, so that they don't feel neglected, and then start to resent this newcomer, and ultimately begin plotting his demise. We're taking every precaution.

Oliver has also had plenty of Grammie/Nonnie time over the past week+ (Grammie is Erin's mom, Nonnie is mine). Having them here was enormously helpful, as dishes were washed and diapers were changed and vegetables were watered so that Erin and I could grab a few z's. But, as of yesterday, when Nonnie and Uncle Payton left to return home, we were officially - and for the first time - on our own. It is definitely daunting. One isn't used to being violently shaken awake at 4 am with an urgent request for Desitin application. But we have survived thus far, and my wife and I make a good team, and failure is not an option. At least, that's what it says on the motivational poster I just finished hanging in the nursery. 

Cuteness update: he's still cute. See? 

He still seems generally confused by the world, but join the club, kid. His eyes are still learning how to focus, and his head is still learning how not to act like a limp head of steamed broccoli. He still hasn't said anything adorable or clever or funny, unless you think "waaaaaaah" is funny. And he still has trouble differentiating fingers from nipples. So there is room for progress. But he's a joy to be around roughly 22 hours out of every day. 

What will he be doing by the time I write my next post? Will he be walking? Will he be making macaroni necklaces? Will he be volunteering for missionary work in Belize? Your guess is as good as mine.