Little Rebels

Did I say we were leaving the hospital today?  Scratch that.  Thanks to yet ANOTHER son who has the audacity to be born with a blood type incompatible to mine, I am once again hanging out in a hospital room, sleeping (or mostly not) by the obnoxious blue light of the infant incubator and feeding on demand around the clock.

Is it too much to ask to have a child born who actually shares my blood type and doesn't try to rebel against me from birth in this way?  Apparently so.

Yeah.  Charlie had some mild jaundice.  Thanks to our family history, the pediatrician decided to just keep him here and put him right under the lights to get rid of it right away.  The hope is that just the one night should do it and we can go home in the morning.

Much as I will be sad to leave this lovely air conditioning, I really need to get home.  Cubby, though he has been a trooper about spending so much Mommy-less time with Grandma and Daddy, is nonetheless still wondering what the hell is going on.  Last thing he knew, Mommy was going to the doctor on Friday morning and would be home to put him down for his nap.  Now here we are, three days later, and Mommy is still not home.  And Daddy does not know the words to Brahms' "Lullaby" (and can't carry a tune even if he did).  How is a boy supposed to go to sleep without Brahms' "Lullaby?  With difficulty, apparently.

Anyway.  Fingers crossed we get sprung tomorrow.  Being subjected to an extended period of this hospital food is again a traumatic experience for me.