Big Sister Pants/Abby's First Bath

Ahoy, readers.

We're a few days into life at home with two kids, and things are slowly beginning to work themselves into a routine schedule.

Those first few nights were exhausting, with Kris and I both averaging about three hours of sleep per night. Now, though, we're probably up to five hours, but they're five hours in larger chunks instead of scattered throughout the entirety of night. Abby's feeding less often, too, which means she's not waking up as much, and Alayna hasn't been charging into our room at 2am the last couple of nights, so all in all, we're feeling a little more rested these days.

Comparatively.

No problems, really, with the kids sharing the spotlight so far, either. Alayna hasn't attempted murdering the newcomer yet, but I suppose the week is still young. There have been some dark clouds on the horizon in regards to how she's been treating Kris, though. While she's always been fond of me, she's now my walking shadow, and has all but stopped listening to her mom (probably because mom walks around with a meat sack affixed to her chest, who knows).

Tantrums aside, the Cannonball's handling the new addition pretty well thus far. Like I said before, though - the week's still young.

Anyway, we gave Abby her first bath today (well, Kris gave her the First Bath - I took pictures). Enjoy the pics...

- Brian

D-Day, Pt. II: Checking Out of the Priciest Hotel We've Ever Stayed At

The first couple days after having a baby is one, humongous endurance test - a gauntlet of sleep deprivation and psychological torture.


Sound dramatic?  Shut up.  Hear me out.


The joy and excitement of having a newborn baby on your hands is neutralized almost immediately by the horrifying reality that you have this 6 lb, porcelain-fragile, meat sack that you have to somehow keep alive for the next eighteen years (if the economy doesn't improve in that amount of time, it might be more like twenty six years).

Anyway, we checked out of the hospital yesterday afternoon after suffering through a long, uneventful lounge-session in our post-delivery room.  While hanging out in the posh Dr. Phillip's Baby Place was cool and everything, we were really wanting to get home and relax in our own surroundings.  Nothing against hospital food or twenty minute naps or anything, but settling in at home sounded way sweeter.

Now, before we could go anywhere, the various doctors and nurses had to run a series of tests on the kid.  No surprise there.  Everything came back fine - Abby's got good response time, hearing, reflexes, color, weight (although she's pretty skinny), and vitals.  Her Jaundice level was questionable, but not alarmlingly so.  All in all, everything was good, so the pediatrician was cool with us peacing out a day early and leaving after one day in the hospital.

Anyway, in the afternoon, Adam and Lindsey brought the Cannonball over and she got to meet her little sister.  She didn't have a toddler freak out on her or anything, but she was a little weirded out.  I'm sure this marks the beginning of a real, fun period of adjustment for everybody involved.  Can't wait.

Not sure if you guys realize this or not, but hospitals are the most expensive hotel you will ever stay at.  I think you can rent Mick Jagger or Brad Pitt's private, beach bungalow at a cheaper, daily rate.  For the amount that we're sure to end up paying for our 24-hour stay at Winter Park Memorial Hospital, I'm pretty sure Mick or Brad would be willing to personally wait on you as a butler during your stay in their house.

The Houghs aren't a big fan of bills, so we weren't about to pay for two nights at the hospital.  As good as the food is.  No thanks.

So, after sitting around the majority of the morning and afternoon waiting on this doc and that doc, we were finally able to leave the hospital in the early evening.  After Kris gave me wrong directions home, which resulted in me taking a victory lap around the greater Orlando area by traversing across four, major interstates only to return to my previous location (some 45 minutes later), we finally arrived home as one, collective family unit.

Now begins a full week of sitting around the house, pretty much doing nothing.  While Kris begins nursing, pumping, and otherwise devoting most of her attention and time to boob management, yours truly gets to take care of the house, the Cannonball, and everything else not directly associated with the newborn.  Throw in grad school homework, and you got the makings of one, awesome week off of work.

Booya.


More pics and updates to come, folks - stay tuned.

- Brian

D-Day, Pt. I: How Kristina Earned Her Mom Stripes

D-Day - May 21st, 2010.

4:30 am - Alarm goes off.


5:00 am - Call the hospital and confirm 6:00 arrival time.


5:30 am- Stuck in major traffic jam due to some idiot driving the wrong way down a major highway (I-4, for you locals) and smashing into someone else. The entire highway is blocked off and I need to merge over through non-moving traffic to get off the next exit. This luckily only makes me 20 minutes late at the hospital. Brian is still at home getting Cannonball ready for school and anxiously waiting to meet up with me.


6:20am - Arrive at the hospital, check in, and am led to my delivery room (which is huge and extremely nice; much like the recovery room photos shown, only larger), in my hospital gown which they do not make for small people, so I look like I'm wearing a blanket.


7:20am - My doctor arrived and broke my water, and then the nurses begin doping me up with pitocin. My hard ass decides no drugs for now....let's see how far I can get. Much of this decision made based on the fact that I felt nothing with Alayna's birth and thought I shouldn't be cheating myself out of the whole birthing experience. Let's say the first hour went really well. A little crampy, but no big deal.

8:15am - Brian had arrived quickly and we sat there somewhat bored, while our nurse trained an intern from the local nursing school at our expense.


9:00 - 10:00am - As the nurses up my doses of Pitocin, contractions start coming quicker and harder. Of course at this time I'm really thinking I should be asking about drugs. When I'm finally unable to handle the pain any longer, the nurse decides to check me first before calling the anesthesiologist and finds me around 4-5 cm.


10:00am - Now the fun begins, because within 10 minutes I jump to 8 cm and can no longer sit still or sit up for the doctor who has just entered with the epideral. I'm shouting for them to give me something....anything. But, of course, they're all rushing around preparing for delivery 'cause it's obvious drugs are not happening.


10:05 - 10:15am - Within another 5-10 minutes I decide it's time to push cause that's what my body is telling me. The nurse of course is begging me not to push and yelling for someone to get the doctor. While waiting for the doc to arrive, I manage to pee all over the nurse while attempting to hold the child in.

Yes, all my modesty is out the window now.

10:15 - 10:21am - I couldn't tell you how many people were in the room at that point, but it was quite a few. Most of them trying to adjust my bed (in this new section of the hospital that no one is use to yet). Brian is coaching me along - how to breath, to hold on for the doctor, etc. (and of course feeling terribly cliche about it). It was much needed, 'cause my focus is out the window by this point. The child is coming!


Much like Cannonball, and much not due to the pain factor, this child comes out in 3 pushes.


10:21am - Abigail Mae Hough is introduced to the world.



She came out looking as blue as a smurf, weighing 6 lbs. 4 oz. and measuring 19 inches in length. I get to see her for a few moments before nurses rush her off to the nursery because of fluid trapped in her lungs, which of course ticks Brian off because he didn't get his pictures and video shots of her in the incubator. Once again, no privacy, no modesty, as the room is filled with doctors and nurses seeing to me and the baby.


12:30pm - Not to worry about little Abby though, she is fine and we end up in our awesome recovery room. She has since proved to be a fabulous eater and quite the squeaker. Yeah, she frequently gets hiccups and sounds like a squeaky mouse when she does.



Doesn't look anything like Alayna, but is still rocking the Hough toes, so dad is proud.



We're still not quite sure who she is resembling, but she's beautiful nonetheless.


Everybody is mentally and physically exhausted, but we're hanging in their. We were fortunate enough to webchat with Brian's parents tonight, but haven't spoken with too many others.



The hard work is done, and we are anxiously awaiting for the last bit of lab work to be done so we can get home tomorrow and settle into our new routine (and also some much-needed sleep).

Meanwhile, the Cannonball is staying the night at Adam and Lindsay's watching tons of Yo Gabba Gabba and has no clue what's in store for her when she finally gets to meet her baby sister.

We'll update everyone tomorrow with more news and more photos.

Enjoy the pictures....

- Kristina

Buggin'

Hey, who likes bugs?

I don't.

Sometimes living in Florida is down right disgusting. Sure the weather's great, but evidently the insect world is a lot like its human counterpart, in that it also flocks to the tropics whenever it can get the chance. The bugs down here are ridiculous, and especially during this time of year.

Jesus, what now?, you may mutter to yourself. I'll tell ya what now: Love Bugs.

And not the smiles n' sunshine, Walt Disney in the '60s, Herbie-kind either. Real, disgusting, voyeuristic, Love Bugs.

Bugs, you naaasty.

If insects floating about copulating with one another wasn't enough - in clouds that could rival any of nastiness found among the Ten Plagues of Egypt - there are bigger, ickier bugs down here than those. There are three inch dragonflies, which, while not necessarily dangerous, still feel really, really gross brushing up against the side of your face as they buzz around your personal space.

Now, on occassion, when living in the tropics, you stumble across real monstrosities. The kind of stuff that God probably made up just to screw with people. One time when I was in Africa I saw a cockroach literally 2/3 the size of my foot. I'm not kidding. I took a picture of it for size comparison.

Little did I know that gargantuan nastiness of the same caliber would find its way over here to the good ol' U.S. of A.

Check this out:

Four inches of blegh. That's what that is. It probably weighed a pound, too. At any rate, it was larger than the back seat of my old Dodge Shadow.

(Trust me.)

The only time I ever want to see bugs like this is during Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, when Willie Scott has to brave a pit of disgusting insects in order to free Dr. Jones and Short Round from the room of impending spike-death. Feel me?

Word.

- Brian

Cannonball, Day-to-Day: Vol. I

Hi folks,

We figured we'd upload some video clips (taken with Kris' cell phone) of the kid around the house. These are all from this weekend, and, while not necessarily edge-of-your-seat, might be enjoyable to those of you out there who are susceptible to prolonged sessions of aww'ing.

Enjoy...

- Brian and Kris

2 cm and Counting...

Preggosaurus was sidelined yesterday by a severe bout of the preggo cramps, forcing yours truly to not only tackle the usual 10-page grad school paper, but also clean up the house and bathe a toddler (and all before the 9 p.m. slot for Modern Family, no less). You see, Kris had a doc's appointment with 'Dr. Skinny Fingers,' as I like to call him, and it turns out that she dilated an extra inch over the course of the last few days.

*cue the ominous, foreboding music*

Well, this put the Hough household into scramble mode, and, upon taking stock of where we currently are in terms of preparation, we've come to the realization that we are, in fact, rather behind where we should be.

Kris somehow misplaced all of our premature size clothes - don't ask me how - as well as the little mitten-things that you put over babies' hands so they don't gum their fingers off (or whatever those are for, I don't know). She also hasn't packed her hospital bag yet, which bugs the bejesus out of me, but in order to keep my scalp I avoid pestering a pregnant woman too much about any one issue at this point in the scheme of things.

Our scheduled 'D-Day' was May 28th. There's no way in the fiery pits of Hades we are making it another two weeks. It ain't happenin'. Regardless, we'd like to have somewhat of a head's up this time around so that we can adequately see the Cannonball passed off for the night (the Voigts are once again stepping in and taking a bullet for us, there). As such, we've scheduled an Inducing with Dr. Skinny Fingers for May 21st.

Even with the earlier date, though, this guy doesn't think we're going to make it.

Kris went home from work early today because she couldn't stand the pain any longer, and has been couch-ridden all afternoon. The Voigts are picking up Alayna from Primrose and bringing her back to the house for us (I won't be home until 7:30pn or so, due to a Student/Parent Open House-thingy at my school).

Call me crazy, but I got a bad, bad feeling this kid is coming soon. Cross your fingers, folks...

- Brian

Teacher Depreciation Week

My wife works at a real, fancy school.

Regardless of the holiday, she always ends up coming home with tons of loot. Christmas, Valentine's Day, President's Day - I don't care what the event may be, she brings home the gift-bagged bacon.

Me? Not so much.

Now, I've got nearly 120 students under my command. She has, oh, 23 or 24. Something like that. While her van can barely contain a day's worth of "thinking of you!," the plunder I receive from my school and my students - throughout the duration of a school year - can usually fit into my pocket.

This was once again illustrated last week, which those in the loop call 'Teacher Appreciation Week.' Preggosaurus works with adorable scamps, and these scamps have parents who can afford to pay the $250 a week daycare costs associated with an upscale daycare facility. As such, these parents aren't afraid to sling about $50 gift cards and mind-blowing gift baskets like 'scuse me ma'dam. Teacher Appreciation Week this year was no exception: gift cards, flowers, chocolates, lotions, candles - general chick stuff in general, but none of it cheap.

An impressive haul, to say the least.

...And what'd I get from my school and my legions of 'adorable scamps'? Check it out:

Gift #1: A Rock

Awesome, a rock! Oh, wait - the rock has a rub-on label on it: "Our Teachers & Staff Rock!" I get it - that's hilarious!! Plus, with a label loosely affixed, the rock is magically transformed into a paperweight! How clever!!

Gift #2: Pad of Paper w/Pen.

Thanks for doing your job. Now here's some things that you can use at home to remind you of doing your job. But at home. Enjoy.

Gift #3: Pen (with a Hand)

Plain ol' pen? I don't think so! This one has a hand where there would otherwise be some sort of convenient clip of some sort. Man, I'm gonna write with this sum'bitch all the time!

Thanks for the appreciation, dearest employers, parents and students. F.Y.I., - next time, I'll take the gift card.

Depressed,

- Brian