oh, baby: Peter, Day 3 and 4

Could you PLEASE get that camera out of my face?

First, please excuse any glaring spelling, grammar, or syntax errors. It's tough to think straight when you have a newborn. (You should have seen me trying to figure out how elevators work at our lactation appointment today. It was kind of embarrassing. This after struggling to figure out where we needed to go, and not understanding why it wasn't on the map even after Kevin pointed out that we were on the wrong floor. At least I was able to brush my teeth this morning.)

Peter's been a busy little boy at his few days at home.

Yesterday we visited Dr. Soriano for his first appointment, and it went very well. During pregnancy - and now - the word most used to describe Peter was "thriving." He's a big, strong boy. It's probably his overall health that allowed him to make such a quick turnaround after his birth.

Today, we checked in with a lactation consultant, who again used the word "thriving" when talking about Peter. He's almost up to his birth weight, which apparently is remarkable for a four-day-old. (Tell this to my father; a few days ago he asked how much weight his grandson had gained. He also wanted to know if Peter sounded "manly" when he cried. I think my dad's a little excited about the new shortstop in the family.)

Then, a somewhat ill-advised trip to pick up some much needed items, including diapers that actually fit our son. Alas, we failed in this department...again. Who would have thought that there is such a range in what fits an almost-9-pound baby?

There's been talk of taking a walk to find the baby ducks, but we've also had word that the baby ducks may be gone, lost at the hands of some evil raccoons. (In a stroke of bizarre coincidence, one of our NICU nurses lives in our complex. We had an extended discussion about the baby ducks.)

And, I'm somewhat afraid to report that The Old Dude and The Girlfriend, who live upstairs, seem none too happy that a healthy baby boy's lungs have moved in downstairs. The Girlfriend studiously avoided eye contact with me when our paths crossed at the mailboxes today. Luckily, Peter's not much of a crier.

Yet.