Draggin' Z's ass all over town.

First, the good news.  Yesterday we dragged Z to the urologist, and just as we has suspected, his hernia has disappeared.  He may have had something called a hydrocele.

But anyway, it's gone and we don't need to worry about it, unless it comes back.  Then we can worry, but just a little.

Z chillin' on a Boppy at the daycare place.

And then the even better news:  Jeff got a last minute gig working on Robot Chicken!

The only bad news is that this means that Z has to go into daycare on Tuesday, when I go back to work.  So I've had a lot of running around to do.  I had to run to the doctor yesterday to get his daycare form signed.  Caught her on the way out the door and she filled the form out.  Such a score.

Then today, I dragged Z all over the place, from seven a.m. until six p.m.  Weissbluth be damned.  Z slept on the go like a champ.

I took him to his daycare center and we set up his cubby and his crib, and I went over some stuff with "Teacher Patty."  It all kind of sucked.  I hate that I won't be with him all day.  The place is great, but I am sad that we are not independently wealthy.  I would love to just keep hanging out with Z all the time.

Then I took him to Babies R Us and got a car seat for the car that we have to buy this weekend for Jeff.  And a bunch of other baby stuff, like a little car adapter for my pump, so I can pump in the car.  And more bottles.  And pacifiers for a three-month-old.  And a Sleep Sack for the daycare hours.  (I didn't like it that they were going to put a blanket on him, but the air conditioning is a little fierce in there, I guess, so I got a wearable blanket for him.) 

There were three Zacks in the Babies R Us Mom room, where I had to feed Z.  There was a four-month-old Zack who is actually not quite as big as Z!

Then, I took him to a much put off trip to Jennie's to meet Layla.  Z really enjoyed hanging out in Layla's bouncy seat.  

Layla is so beautiful.  And so teeny.  Holding her feels like holding a little feather.  I guess our son is just a big guy.  But I don't think of him as big when I'm with him all day.  All my childhood I was the big girl in the class, and it's funny to have a physical attribute that people remark upon like that.  I wonder how much it has affected my personality.  I think of Z as just so easy going and so incredibly communicative.  And so responsive and smiley.  But when new folks meet him, the first thing they say is, "He's huge!"  And then, "He's cute!"  Ah well.  There are worse things than being a tall, good looking white male in America.

I just moved the seat into the front to extract Z,

so I could feed and change him.  This is not where he rides,

so don't go callin' K Fed to take my child away.

On the way home, Z was fussing a little in the car, and then he changed pitch and I recognized the hungry cry.  So we pulled over and I fed him and changed his diaper.  Going north on the 405 at rush hour can make me cranky, too, and that's not even on the days when I'm starving and sitting in my own poop.  So who can blame the little guy?

When I put him back in the seat, he started to cry, and then I looked at him and explained that we were going home.  Giant smile, and then this.  Whatever this is.  He said, "Ooooh.  Aaaah.  Ooooh."

Then I gave him Mr. Monkey, who was promptly put into Z's mouth.  Where he belongs!  

The whole time we were pulled over and listening to music, I was really pretty happy.  Other times when I've had to stop and feed Z while out shopping, or at that late night party, I always feel like I'm with the best company there could possibly be.  I don't feel deprived at all if I have to slow down or go into another room to relax with Z.  We have a fun time just staring into each other's eyes and smiling and smiling.  I'll miss it next week!