Roscoe-isms

Before life gets a little more hectic, I thought I would pause and record a couple of Roscoe's recent endearing moments.

* Roscoe's favorite playmate is Ray.  No contest.  Not only does Daddy play horsey, chase, scare, hide, build him tents, take him on bike rides, wagon rides and all sorts of other adventures...  

(why, yes, that is an "off-roading" wagon Ray found for $15 on craigslist...)

Ray is also the object of affection in Roscoe's favorite made up game.  This game consists of Roscoe tackling Ray, climbing all over him and then sitting on his head.  Roscoe thinks this is hysterical and even funnier when he holds up his hands and asks "Dada go?" like Ray is hiding from him.  Unfortunately for Ray, Roscoe has a tendency to want to play this game mid-diaper change when he is naked.  This is why we refer to this game as Brown Eye.  Mama especially enjoys this version and likes to make up an accompanying story to the tune of "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" while watching Ray struggle to avoid the stinky bits.

* The other day Roscoe was with Nani and they were looking at the moon.  This is the conversation they had:
          Roscoe: Loon!
          Nani: No, it's MOOooon.
          Roscoe: Cow?

* Rock Star Roscoe can spend hours a day performing concerts.  He will use various objects as a microphone and sometimes accompanies himself with his "guitar" (really a ukelele) while doing his signature Galloping Stomp dance move.  His words are hard to decipher and the tunes are never familiar, but he sings loudly with gusto and a special "rock star" face that he makes which you might mistake for disgust if you didn't know better (think: eyes closed, nose scrunched, mouth wide open).  Sometimes he makes us play or sing with him.  Or the confused dogs.  I do have a video of this, but he happens to be naked (and wearing rain boots), so I will refrain from publishing that one on the Internet...  

Ooooo SCARY!

A couple of weeks ago we were visited by a VERY, SCARY beast that prowled and growled around the house for about 4 days and then suddenly disappeared...  You will recognize him by his repetition of "ROAR!  SCARY!" sometimes followed by a sinister laugh and the exclamation "funny!"  He was also sighted at the library, the local harvest festival and the SF zoo.  Beware!

(with his amazing nanny he calls "Nani")

Stay Put, Baby Girl

I tend to resist documenting these things because writing somehow makes them more real (and I would rather pretend they are not).  Last night we had Scary Pregnancy Strike #3 and spent several hours in the hospital (Scary #1 and Scary #2 were both pre-term labor scares I tried to rationalize and forget about - i.e. didn't write about).  I will spare you all the details, but I will say there was a lot of blood involved and a hasty trip to the hospital.  Thankfully Roscoe and I were met there by Ray (who left work), Shannon (our midwife) and Nani (Roscoe's nanny who took him home and spent the rest of the day/night with him).  After several scary and frustrating hours at the hospital, we left with no real answers.  We know the baby is moving and her heart rate is good.  My blood pressure and heart rate is good.  The bleeding has stopped.  We know the bleeding/clots are coming from the uterus.  After 3 ultrasounds last night we know that I do not have placenta previa (although anything closer than 2cm is considered a previa and my placenta is exactly 2cm from my cervix, so cutting that one pretty close!).  That basically leaves partial placental abruption or "unknown causes."  And that is how we left it.  Any pain or additional bleeding and I have to come back to the hospital and stay for extended "observation" - or an emergency C-section, I suppose.

I am so relieved to know that the baby is fine right now.  However... I am terrified of what might come next and constantly on edge.  Every Braxton-Hicks contraction, every hunger pain, every twinge I feel sends me on the verge of a panic attack.  I know I need to keep my cool because pumping the baby full of stress hormones is not going to help anyone.  But that is easier said than done.  I am having a hard time eating anything, which also doesn't help.  And poor Roscoe is having a hard time processing everything that happened last night.

I have to document this, though, because someday I am going to tell my baby girl the war stories of this pregnancy and how relieved and happy we were when she was born full-term and healthy.  Just like my mom told me the war stories of her pregnancy with me (complete placenta previa, a SIX MONTH OLD at home, even the doctor teared up when I was born...)  I will hold my breath for the next month and do all I can to trust that things will be ok.