Scampy-love
Another post that I would counsel readers to ignore, if this were a reader kind of blog. Sometimes I just need to document a James Joyce stream of consciousness about the imps and the scamps -- I don't expect it to be interesting to anyone but hub and me. And now for some Scampy love. Baby B, my Scampy, was my quiet one. He barely made a peep my entire pregnancy. It turns out the little scamp was sitting directly in the middle of my ute, fanning himself. This relegated Impy to the margins, hence all the kicking, punching, and hullaballoo.
Scampy frightened me in the OR. Before labor began in earnest, they lost Scampy's heartbeat. The nurses were calling for the doctor increasingly stridently. Finally they found him again, fortunately before I panicked.
Scampy was tough to bring here. He was more than a pound heavier than Impy; some doctors will only attempt a non-surgical birth if Baby A is bigger (thus making it likely that Baby B will come through easily). I'm not bragging -- I wanted a surgical birth to avoid the dreaded one-by-land and two-by-C. However, my doctor wouldn't let me have one. We had to wait for me to contract some more before working on Scampy's arrival. It really wasn't that bad, though, thanks to the epidural.
When Scampy arrived, he didn't cry. I think I remember asking whether he was okay (he was). I also remember my hubby heroically staying by my side while we both craned our necks trying to see the babies over in the corner behind a wall of nurses. I finally told hub to go see the babies.
In the beginning, Scampy was quiet and laid-back. He slept a lot, and when he wasn't sleeping, I swear he sometimes even smiled (no one can prove it was gas). Unfortunately, he had some jaundice, and ended up in the NICU the day after we brought him home. He was only there for a night before he was sprung, thank goodness. I will always honor parents who deal with more serious challenges and much longer NICU stays -- our tiny, butterfly-brief brush with it was miserable enough. We brought him home with a U/V blanket -- the kid loved it. It was like baby resort season; Scampy even got a tan. What he didn't love was going to the hospital on Christmas Day for a foot stick to check his bili levels. We joked that we had to get to the ER early before all the Christmas toy-related injuries started rolling in. At least the "A Christmas Story" marathon was on TV in the waiting room.
I think Scampy was in a sleepy phase for about four months. After that, his personality started emerging. Far from being a laid-back, calm little man, Scampy is pure id. The boy can squeal with frustration, and be laughing himself silly the next minute. He has an absolutely beautiful, cherubic smile that just illuminates his face. And he beams at just about everyone.
He's a big talker, too. He was babbling pretty early on. Now, he babbles, and he says "guh" very authoritatively. We have yet to determine the exact meaning of "guh," but it clearly means something. When Scampy crawls across the room, he will often do so to a loud "aaaaaaaaaaaaa" soundtrack of his own devising. It doesn't look at all funny written down; you'll have to trust me when I say that this is the stuff of which comedy gold is spun.
Our Scampy loooooooves his music. He has always responded well to it, and now he loves to dance to the swinging sounds of Vivaldi's Spring, as played by the Baby Einstein exersaucer orchestra electronica. Unfortunately, he didn't think much of the stale old symphonic Vivaldi Spring I played for him via stereo today.
Scampy also has a binking problem. One of the first demonstrations of his talent with manual dexterity came by way of his wubbanub, and his ability to spin it like an old timey revolver right back where it belongs in its mouth holster. Then, he started stealing binks from his brother. Now, I occasionally find him with one bink en-mouth, and one in each hand. I know that this is one of those "how cute" moments that is destined to become a horrible, habit-breaking war later on. I haven't been very vigorous in googling the current norms for age-appropriate binking. I really just don't want to know yet.
The Scampy is a mimic, too. I realized to what extent when we went to the library several weeks ago. Scampy kept heading off, and I kept calling him back. He would pause, sit up, lift his arms and slap them down on his lap, and then sometimes return to me and sometimes continue on his way. Finally I realized that this was Scampy's initial try at clapping. Earlier that week, I had been practicing, for lack of a better description, obedience with them. When Scampy turned around upon request, I had clapped and cheered. So, at the library Scampy was cheering himself on for pausing (and then continuing on). I realized then that I should probably cheer after he has completed the desired action.
Lately Scampy has been standing up and letting go with both hands. And then clapping. The sheer joy and unfettered pride is marvellous. How I love my Scampy.
Scampy frightened me in the OR. Before labor began in earnest, they lost Scampy's heartbeat. The nurses were calling for the doctor increasingly stridently. Finally they found him again, fortunately before I panicked.
Scampy was tough to bring here. He was more than a pound heavier than Impy; some doctors will only attempt a non-surgical birth if Baby A is bigger (thus making it likely that Baby B will come through easily). I'm not bragging -- I wanted a surgical birth to avoid the dreaded one-by-land and two-by-C. However, my doctor wouldn't let me have one. We had to wait for me to contract some more before working on Scampy's arrival. It really wasn't that bad, though, thanks to the epidural.
When Scampy arrived, he didn't cry. I think I remember asking whether he was okay (he was). I also remember my hubby heroically staying by my side while we both craned our necks trying to see the babies over in the corner behind a wall of nurses. I finally told hub to go see the babies.
In the beginning, Scampy was quiet and laid-back. He slept a lot, and when he wasn't sleeping, I swear he sometimes even smiled (no one can prove it was gas). Unfortunately, he had some jaundice, and ended up in the NICU the day after we brought him home. He was only there for a night before he was sprung, thank goodness. I will always honor parents who deal with more serious challenges and much longer NICU stays -- our tiny, butterfly-brief brush with it was miserable enough. We brought him home with a U/V blanket -- the kid loved it. It was like baby resort season; Scampy even got a tan. What he didn't love was going to the hospital on Christmas Day for a foot stick to check his bili levels. We joked that we had to get to the ER early before all the Christmas toy-related injuries started rolling in. At least the "A Christmas Story" marathon was on TV in the waiting room.
I think Scampy was in a sleepy phase for about four months. After that, his personality started emerging. Far from being a laid-back, calm little man, Scampy is pure id. The boy can squeal with frustration, and be laughing himself silly the next minute. He has an absolutely beautiful, cherubic smile that just illuminates his face. And he beams at just about everyone.
He's a big talker, too. He was babbling pretty early on. Now, he babbles, and he says "guh" very authoritatively. We have yet to determine the exact meaning of "guh," but it clearly means something. When Scampy crawls across the room, he will often do so to a loud "aaaaaaaaaaaaa" soundtrack of his own devising. It doesn't look at all funny written down; you'll have to trust me when I say that this is the stuff of which comedy gold is spun.
Our Scampy loooooooves his music. He has always responded well to it, and now he loves to dance to the swinging sounds of Vivaldi's Spring, as played by the Baby Einstein exersaucer orchestra electronica. Unfortunately, he didn't think much of the stale old symphonic Vivaldi Spring I played for him via stereo today.
Scampy also has a binking problem. One of the first demonstrations of his talent with manual dexterity came by way of his wubbanub, and his ability to spin it like an old timey revolver right back where it belongs in its mouth holster. Then, he started stealing binks from his brother. Now, I occasionally find him with one bink en-mouth, and one in each hand. I know that this is one of those "how cute" moments that is destined to become a horrible, habit-breaking war later on. I haven't been very vigorous in googling the current norms for age-appropriate binking. I really just don't want to know yet.
The Scampy is a mimic, too. I realized to what extent when we went to the library several weeks ago. Scampy kept heading off, and I kept calling him back. He would pause, sit up, lift his arms and slap them down on his lap, and then sometimes return to me and sometimes continue on his way. Finally I realized that this was Scampy's initial try at clapping. Earlier that week, I had been practicing, for lack of a better description, obedience with them. When Scampy turned around upon request, I had clapped and cheered. So, at the library Scampy was cheering himself on for pausing (and then continuing on). I realized then that I should probably cheer after he has completed the desired action.
Lately Scampy has been standing up and letting go with both hands. And then clapping. The sheer joy and unfettered pride is marvellous. How I love my Scampy.
posted by E. at 12:03 AM
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