Today

I am planning on posting a ridiculously detailed description of Eli's arrival.  I'm just too tired as of yet.  Today, I just want to thank Polly for kicking me out of my house despite my hormonal teary response to her very gentle, "Get your baby out of that house!"  

Yes, I took Eli home with me and had one glorious day at my house with just me, Eli, and hubby--who spent the whole day downstairs . . . um . . . sanding drywall.  I didn't think about the dust until Timothy came upstairs and looked at Eli for several minutes and then said, in his usual sweet, thoughtful way, "I don't think this dust is good for the baby."  Oh.  Maybe I should have thought of that considering the gunk I coughed up and got out of my nose after my stints dusting. I called the on-call doctor at our pediatrician's office and she said to get the baby out of the house ASAP.  

I didn't want to leave.  Really, those of you who are moms understand the absolute perfection of being in your own house without your kids.  Usually when you are without your kids you are somewhere other than your house, and that isn't nearly as great.  Since I didn't want to leave, I called Polly.  My long-distance, beloved friend and pediatrician.  I never take a kid to the doctor without calling her first.  And she still likes me.  This time, however, she supported the earlier prognosis and told me to get Eli out of the house.  

After much calling around to see who would take me in (not many takers, actually), I wound up at Mom's--who also didn't want me, but was gracious enough to take me anyway.  I don't blame her for not wanting me as I didn't want to be at her house either.  First, she has my kids.  Okay, that's all three reasons. My kids do WAY better at her house if I'm not around.  When Mom (me) is around then there is a lot more confusion about who is in charge.  When I'm not around--it is very clear that Grandma is in charge and they obey so much better and don't try to get away with things.  So my being here makes things harder for my mom and dad and me. 

And yet, the point of this post is to tell Polly thank you for not giving me an "out" and sticking to her guns about the need to leave.  This morning Eli spit up for the first time and there was identifiable drywall dust gunk in his spit up.  It's good we got him out.  I wish we'd thought of it sooner.

Poor kid--his first days of life and we feed him drywall and blood.  (I was pumping this morning and the kids asked me why the milk was pink.  No, it isn't strawberry milk.)