We finally got to bring the Peanut home on Saturday night! Turns out that she had developed jaundice and needed to stay at the hospital for an extra day. Although I wasn't overly worried about Peanut's health, BossLady and I were fairly upset and disappointed that we couldn't bring her home with us. But you should have seen the Peanut when we left. She was under the phototherapy lamps with her little blinders on. She looked so damn cute. Like a little piglet basking in the sun on the beaches of St. Tropez. I kept waiting for her to lift up the blinders, peek up at us and ask me to go get her a pina colada and some more foie gras.
Now that Peanut's at home, the BossLady and I spend a fair amount of our time just staring at her for hours. I'll keep you updated from time to time, but as far as I can tell, NATURE is kicking NURTURE's ass. Since BossLady and I haven't had enough time to mold or influence her yet, we're attributing many of her actions to the prevailing importance of genetic coding. For example...
-Sunday night, the Peanut cried when the Yankees advanced to the ALCS. They weren't tears of joy. They were the anguished tears of Yankee Fatigue Syndrome. She was only able to calm down when I sang her "Meet the Mets, Greet the Mets."
-When the Peanut gets pissed at me, she gives me an eyebrow-furrowing scowl. Not just any scowl. But the same exact look that BossLady gives me when I've stepped on her foot, stayed out too late or failed (once again) to keep my promise to be at BuyBuyBaby by 10:00 am on a Saturday morning.
-Remember the scene in "Old School" when Will Ferrell is guzzling from the beer bong? Not only was that me in college, it's the Peanut with a bottle of formula. The resemblance is more than a little frightening. We're contemplating just putting her formula in an aluminum can, shaking it vigorously, puncturing it with a pen knife, and just having her shotgun it all down. It should be only a few days before she's taking her formula in a rocks glass with a few ice cubes!
-Finally, there are some unique characteristics of her bowel movements that are truly uncanny in their resemblance to either me or the BossLady. However, I'll save those stories until we know each other better.
Welcome home, Peanut! We've been waiting for you!
Ah, the poop stories - the best part about being a parent.
Posted by: Terri | October 12, 2004 at 10:34 AM