Oh, crap! Where am I????

Well, it's official - we are now a balanced family. Two boys and two girls! Last Friday, we welcomed John Robert Tierney into the family. He was born at 1:49 PM, and weighed in at a whopping 9 pounds, 5 ounces. He was 20.5 inches long.

The kids came to see him a few hours after he was born, and it was pretty cute. As expected, Emma and Patrick were thrilled. They kept telling him how much they love him, and how happy they are that he is here. Patrick is especially happy, since he’s finally got someone he can share his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toys with!

Also as expected, Gracie was displeased with the fact that Johnny is a boy. She asked me where the girl baby was, and when I told her that the baby was a boy, she was very agitated. Then she said: “Well, my baby needs to come out of my tummy! It’s a girl baby!” Since Friday, though, she’s definitely warmed up to Johnny, and likes to hold and kiss him.

We came home Sunday, and had an uneventful day. Our Scottish friends, Jason and Nancy, brought us a wonderful dinner, so we were able to relax Sunday afternoon, rather than worry about cooking. My dad flew in Sunday morning, and the kids crawled all over him most of the day.

On Monday, all hell broke loose as Emma and Gracie started puking. Emma was getting ready to head out to school when she blew. Gracie blew after her nap. Emma at least made it to the toilet (which is good, since she threw up four times). Gracie, on the other hand, threw up chocolate cookies all over her carpet. I’ve done one round with the carpet cleaner, but I need to do another round today to get it all out. I also felt bad Monday night, but we all seem to be over it.

This morning, we took Johnny to the doctor for his newborn follow-up. He’s doing really well, even though the rotting flesh of his umbilical cord stump smells like, um, rotting flesh. The doctor said not to worry about it unless it starts to turn red. Other than that, and the fact that Johnny is a bit yellow, he looks perfect. He weighed 8 pounds 14 ounces today, which is his discharge weight from Sunday. That’s a sign that he’s gaining weight back, so I expect him to be over 10 pounds when we go back in two weeks for his checkup.

So, that’s it in a nutshell. Big boy. Happy brother and sisters. Ecstatic mother and father.

And some pictures.

I have writer's block. I know my kids have done things worth writing about, but I can't seem to make any of them into funny enough stories to record for your enjoyment. There was Patrick making his butt-crack talk, but, honestly, how can I possibly embellish that story enough to make it *really* funny? Basically, he was getting ready to have a shower, and he leaned over, put one hand on each side, and made "Mr. Heine," as he called it, say hello. "Hi! I'm Mr. Heine!"

I could also tell you about Gracie's latest control issues. The other day, she wanted a cup of chocolate milk. I told her I would get her one as soon as she put the cup of water she had into the sink. She refused. You have to understand, though, that she was standing AT THE SINK WITH THE CUP IN HER HAND! She would not reach up and drop the damn thing in the sink. She didn't want to, and she thought she was in control. So, instead, she walked 10 feet to the other counter and set the cup there. Needless to say, she didn't get her chocolate milk. That night, she pulled another one - all of the kids are expected to clear their places after they eat. After her dinner, Gracie refused to clear her place, so I took her "gankey" (her blanket) away and told her I would give it back to her after she cleared her place. She went to bed without gankey, and awoke the next morning to find her dinner plate still on the table. She gave in, though - as soon as she saw it, she set it next to the sink where it belonged and came begging for gankey. Which she got, since she did, in fact, do what she needed to do.

Then I could mention Emma's first swim meet. Of all of my children, LTN4 included, Emma is the weakest swimmer. She thinks she's going to drown. But, she really, really, REALLY wanted to be in the swim meet put on by her swim school this weekend. So, we piled everyone into the minivan and headed off yesterday afternoon to watch Emma "compete." When it was time for warmups, she got in the pool and started to swim, but halfway through, she realized it was further than she normally swam, and that scared her. So, when she was done with the warmup, we put a floatie on her back to help her during the "race." When it was time for her heat, I brought her over to the starting line, and helped her into the pool. When they blew the whistle to start the race, she started wailing. One of the lifeguards came and carried her most of the way down the pool, and she ended up swimming the last 15 feet by herself. It was so sad!! She did try her best, and she finished what she had set out to do, so her father took her to Cold Stone after dinner as a treat. I really felt sorry for her. Maybe we'll wait a while before another Swim Meet.

For someone with writer's block, I sure don't shut up, do I?