No Such Thing as Too Much

It's funny. We'll go weeks without having any cream in the refrigerator and not noticing its absence. And then the MiL brings home a quart of heavy cream (that's right, I said a quart--no point in doing anything halfway) and all of the sudden it's in everything.

So far: two large batches of the Nourishment; a batch of James Beard's recipe for Cream Biscuits (using a cup of heavy cream in place of butter--YUM); hot cocoa with whipped cream; and lots and lots of black tea with sugar and cream.

I might just start drinking it straight from the carton next, to save on all this inconvenient cooking.

Attention New Moms

A bit of advice: If at all possible, try to finagle someone* in your household to keep up a constant supply of pudding or custard in the refrigerator at all times. Then you can shovel it in your mouth without guilt because all that calcium is so good for the baby.

Those little buggers are such a convenient excuse sometimes.

* Ideally, the MiL, who makes possibly the best rice pudding in the world. But she's my supplier. You can't have her.

Climate Control

I get the sense some of you were afraid we were going to be trying to keep a newborn in our bedroom at its normal temperature. No. Please, give us a little credit. Not even we, hardened and calloused as we are, would make a small baby try to acclimate to 45 degrees.

Be assured that Cubby rests in a room* that we maintain at a comfortable 70-75 degrees. We did this by turning off the furnace heat to the majority of the house and instead directing it all into a tiny bedroom. Plus, there's a space heater. These two things together manage to keep it warm enough.

Surprisingly, I've actually been enjoying the warmth myself. Or perhaps that's not so surprising, since I spend half the night somewhat, ahem, bare when the child feels the need to eat. Which is often. I think A. finds it a little warm, but we don't worry about him.

And on a non-related but nonetheless irritating note: I would like to have a little word with the bright mind who decided that infant vitamin drops should be bright orange in color. Better yet, I'd like to have that bright mind try to administer the drops and not get orange stains all over HIS clothes.

* I use the word "rests" deliberately, as there seems to be little sleeping going on much of the time.

Cubby: Take Two

Ah. Bringing baby home from the hospital. A special, once in a lifetime experience. Unless you're us, of course, and then you get to do it TWICE.

So fun.

Not really.

Hi! Did you miss me? Did you even notice I was gone? Did you think I had perhaps gone over the sleep-deprived edge and done a runner?

Surprisingly, no.

Instead, I have been in the hospital. Or, more accurately, Cubby has been in the hospital and I, as his food supply, have been hanging out in the room while he sunned himself like a seasoned beach-goer. When we went to the pediatrician on Monday, he said the jaundice was worse and the baby would have to go under the lights for a couple of days. We went straight to the hospital and I've been there with him ever since. He luxuriated in the warmth and light and ate every two hours; I watched the snow fall outside the window and watched bad t.v. and ate bad food for two days. Really, the food at the hospital offends every sensibility.

ANYWAY.

We got sprung today, thanks in large part to the small child's capacity to eat like a line backer and therefore expel the evil bilirubin that causes jaundice. He obviously inherited our healthy appetites, if nothing else.

So. Yes. Home again. Settling in again. Doing laundry again. And REALLY looking forward to dinner. Seriously. They gave me FISH STICKS for dinner on Monday. I may never recover.

Presenting . . .

The newest addition to the Blackrock menagerie:

Thinking great thoughts already. Possibly, "When's snack time, lady?"

If he looks a little yellow to you, that's because he is. He has some jaundice. Apparently the result of my blood type and his being the most incompatible combination of all. YAY! So we have to bring him to get checked at the pediatrician tomorrow. He may have to have a little tanning session, but nothing major. In fact, I might be tempted to join him under those lights.

As for the name . . . I'm sorry, but I must keep the mystery alive. However, since he was man-cub when he was in utero, I think it would be appropriate to continue the theme. Therefore, I christen him with his blog name of Cubby.

Welcome to the Blackrock party, Cubby. Now hang on for the ride.