S Minus About Two Weeks.

After the 800th commenter swore that she would sell her grandmother for a Miracle Blanket, I hied myself to the website and ordered two. My baby adores a swaddle, and I got a bit nervous when a nurse mentioned that once I am home I will only be able to swaddle Simone below the arms, because swaddling with her arms in and the blanket up to her neck is a SIDS hazard. Apparently babies can wriggle the blanket loose, get it over their face, and suffocate themselves. (Incidentally, between the catching fire and the suffocation, is anyone else getting the impression that babies are awfully accident-prone?) But unless Simone ties one end to a crib slat with her teeth and barrel rolls in the opposite direction, that Miracle Blanket isn’t going anywhere. She’s trapped! Just as nature intended.

I had so much fun reading through your comments and making my list of pre-homecoming essentials. I tried to sneak “pedicure” and “Nikon D40” onto said list, but Scott objected. (Of course with May 26th approaching, he has been trying to convince me that year one is “The Playstation 3 anniversary,” so he is not arguing from a position of strength). What your comments made especially clear is that I will need two or three hundred cloth diapers per baby-orifice, and probably I should just plan on scattering them liberally around the apartment to mop up any stray fluids. Your sling recommendations were helpful as well—I got a Baby Ktan (quite like a Moby-wrap-for-dummies), and it sounds like the Kangaroo Korner fleece pouch might be worth a look, irksome misspelling of “corner” notwithstanding.
Anyhow, I am in a much better position than I was last week, when a nurse asked whether I had “one of those vibrating chairs” for Simone yet, and if so, could I bring it in? and I thought she meant an infant-sized leather massage chair from Hammacher Schlemmer Baby or something. In my defense, I didn’t realize that bouncy-seats vibrated—I thought they were simply a spring-loaded receptacle in which to place the baby while you answer the phone or use the bathroom, a receptacle that you may “bounce” with your foot if you are so inclined. I had much to learn. Of course I do realize that all Simone really needs is a boob and my love and a dresser drawer lined with rags (well, besides her oxygen tank) but it’s lovely to finally, finally feel safe enough to shop for a carseat and mentally arrange nursery furniture.

Speaking of which, we got a call two days ago from our landlord, indicating that our new apartment was nearing completion. We picked up the keys today and start moving tomorrow, and also, we need to have our current place emptied and cleaned by Tuesday morning at nine. So, guess what I’m doing this weekend? If you guessed “moving,” you’re only half right—full credit goes to those of you who added “hyperventilating in the dark recesses of a closet.”

Of course the other thing I am doing this weekend is walking in the March of Dimes March of for Babies with Simone’s fabulous nurses. I suppose this means the babies will be all alone in the NICU, throwing a wild party ($3 cover, must be under 37 weeks, the breastmilk will flow like wine). The March is on Sunday, and this morning my iGoogle weather gadget displayed a picture of a christless SNOWFLAKE for that day. “Rain and snow showers,” they say. On the day of our noble four mile walk to keep babies alive! Really, April? Is that how you want to be remembered? As a babykiller? Let’s have a little sunshine. DO IT FOR THE CHILDREN.