Welcome to the world little Harlan. Today, our friend had a little boy.
Weâ€™re at that age where everywhere we turn, someone we know is having a little one. We counted once â€“ in the three years since Jon graduated, there are more than 20 future grads. And thatâ€™s just on Jonâ€™s side of friends. Harlan is the fourth little guy in our circle of friends to enter this world since the muppets arrived. (To be fair, there was one girl.) And I know four more still expecting. (One is also having twin boys â€“ welcome to the doubles tournament!)
Admittedly, Jon and I were seemingly a bit late to the baby game â€“ most of our friends are announcing the imminent arrivals of their second children. But we were one of the first to have two (with one of the others who beat us to two doing so with twinkies of their own less than a month before the muppets breakthrough performance).
Itâ€™s interesting to sit back and realize that all these tiny humans are our future. Itâ€™s fascinating to â€œcompare notesâ€ if you will with other mothers as our progeny develops. High school friends, colleagues, new friends, twin moms, preemie parents â€“ the experiences are shared with a complete amalgamation of people connected to me in different ways. And of course, in addition to celebrating new life, itâ€™s nice to have a circle to share with. What goes around, comes around. And thatâ€™s true for baby stuff just as much as karma.
Harlanâ€™s baby shower was the first outing the muppets attended. They never even got out of their stroller. They snoozed soundly in their land yacht, which Iâ€™d maneuvered into a corner away from direct sunlight in a manner befitting the skills a mother who grew up playing hours of Tetris on GameBoy.
On Halloween, as I was juggling my monkey and little lion man, another friend joined the shindig with her one-week old. He was so tiny. I was elated! This tiny little baby was the first newborn that instinctively made me think that my guys were getting so big. The muppets were no longer the smallest of the bunch!
At our 2010 Kidâ€™s Christmas Party, another friend brought her brand new two-week old little girl. Search and Destroy were very squirmy, as they were already big giant boys (now in 3-6 month size clothes). So amidst juggling muppets, I was able to congratulate the new mommy of two. Both of the muppets younger new friends were happy, healthy babies. And we had clean bills of health from all the wee ones yet to debut. The atmosphere made me grin from ear-to-ear.
In the past few months, Iâ€™ve had countless conversations about what itâ€™s going to be like when our kids start growing up together â€“ who might be the ring leader, and who might be the mischievous one who figures out who canâ€™t refuse a dare… At this point, we may have our own baseball team. Anyone up for a kids vs. parents game at our summer barbeque? I figure we can take them down through at least t-ball.
Yesterday I was gleefully informed that Harlanâ€™s mom had finally been admitted to the Labor and Delivery unit. Harlan was already four days late; everyone (especially his mom) was very ready to meet him. Perhaps it was because she had just checked into the same hospital where Iâ€™d spent so many tearful days/nights, but I suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy.
I canâ€™t imagine that youâ€™ll hear many stories about women jealous of other women going into labor, but the news made me start reminiscing about the stark contrast of our boysâ€™ earthly entrance.
â€œWalk, walk, walk.â€ Four days past his due date (and truth be told, about two weeks before), Harlanâ€™s mom was encouraging her little man to depart his cozy nine-month abode. I was afraid to drink too much water because walking the ten feet to the bathroom might be dangerous. She was so excited to finally be admitted to the hospital; I replied to the news letting her know I was partial to L&D Room 10. (And not that she would likely be watching a lot of TV, but beware the broken unit in Mother/Baby Room 23).
My phone buzzed at 5 a.m. this morning. Jon grumbled and asked who would be texting at such an hour. An adorable, healthy, 7lb 9 oz Harlan was here. Jon smiled. â€œThatâ€™s an acceptable interruption,â€ he noted as we drug ourselves out of bed to cater to our own growing boys at the early hour. Early, late, preemie, term â€“ none of them are going to care when theyâ€™re running amuck together throughout the days of their youth.
Weâ€™re so excited to have you here Harlan. The muppets canâ€™t wait to meet their new friend.