Welcome Home

So, after a bit of deliberation, our new baby came home this evening.

The original plan was for her (and the missus, of course) to stay in hospital for one more night, in order to finish up one last day of the antibiotics. Lauren, however, had other ideas.

Over the past couple of days she discovered that if she banged her hand against the side of the perspex hospital crib, her canula would make a satisfying "dink" sound against the plastic. She must have loved the noise, because she apparently did it right through the night.

After the contents of her afternoon meds ended up on my shirt (rather than in her veins) the paediatrician discovered that her tapping had worked the canula loose. The doctor decided against reinserting it, and instead told the missus to pack her shit and f-off.

Well, not in so many words. Actually, after some rather effective arse-kissing on my part, my wife was pretty much at the top of the staff's list of favourite patients. But I'll get to that in a bit.


The drive home was uneventful, but when we pulled into the driveway the dogs completely wigged out. Aside from giving the wife their usual enthusiastic greeting, the moment they caught the scent of a brand new person they went utterly mental.

I ended up putting Lauren down in her playpen, so the dogs could have a sniff around without being able to get close enough to do any damage. It took a good few hours, but they finally settled down a bit. Of course, Lauren slept through the whole thing.

The missus is definitely glad to be home. The hospital beds weren't exactly the last word in comfort, so the though of sleeping in our own bed was a welcome one for her. Besides, the hospital didn't offer Foxtel. We can't have THAT.

More to the point, if the baby wanted to be fed right through the night, it would mean that the wife would need to catch some zeds during the day. With the constant clattering of hospital trolleys, frequent interruptions for meds, checks and examinations, and f-ing noisy douchebag visitors (not HER visitors, mind you- the visitors for other patients) getting some sleep during the day was a little problematic. At least at home, she'll have some quiet whenever she needs it.

And with them at home, I'll get to spend all the time I WANT with my little girl. That is all SORTS of awesome.

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I have to hand it to the staff at the hospital- they might be stuck in some relatively decrepit buildings, but they really do provide some first rate care. Over the past week, I can honestly say that not a single doctor, midwife, nurse, cleaner or caterer has done even the slightest thing that we could complain about.

Well, except for that one midwife that scolded me for huffing on the gas in the delivery room. But I can't really hold THAT against her.

And I am definitely gifted at finding things to bitch about. Exhibit 'A': This f-ing BLOG.

Anyway, we were thinking about getting something for the staff as a little token of our gratitude. The standard gift is a card or flowers or some such, but we had other ideas.

Sure, flowers are pretty to look at, but I have no doubt that after the first- oh, I don't know- THOUSAND or so bouquets, the novelty would be minimal at best. I'm sure they would be grateful and appreciative to your face, but under their breath they would be muttering, "Yeah, thanks a bunch, peckerface. Like we need something ELSE to clean up and throw away in a few days. That's just SUPER."


And cards are a right f-ing scam. Ever since I was young, I've always thought that the whole concept of greeting cards is an inane, pointless method of making the Hallmark people rich. I don't know about you, but if someone told me that they were going to get me a birthday card, I would rather they just shook my hand, said, "Happy Birthday" and spent the money on buying me a beer.

The f--k would I need with some dopey limerick, written by a braindead cockstain and printed on a pretty piece of cardboard?

Exactly.

Anyway, while we were in the earlier stages of the delivery, I overheard a couple of the midwives talking. They were discussing their meal breaks, and one of them was utterly THRILLED to have brought in a packet of frankfurters, so that they could have a "decent" dinner for once. Apparently, a microwaved frank on a slice of white bread qualified as a treat for them.

So I figured I'd cook them a nice meal. I made up a few big trays of Italian food (some Fettucini Carbonara, Ravioli Bolognaise and Chicken Parmigiana, if you're curious) and took it in a couple of days ago.


I can say this with absolute certainty: we definitely didn't get the watered down medicines after THAT. Over the past couple of days, I couldn't walk into the place without being asked, "What restaurant do you work at", and then after I informed them that I was merely an enthusiastic amateur, "Why the hell AREN'T you a chef?".

I know it makes me sound like a douchebag, but nothing puts a grin on my face faster than someone giving my food props. It's ALWAYS fun.

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Speaking of getting props, I skipped over to Luli's blog a little earlier, where she talked about her thoughts on some of the blogs (or more accurately, the bloggers) she reads. She had this to say about moi:

Andy- You constantly crack me UP! And although your style is sarcastic and sometimes grumpy, you have a way of coming off as an instant close friend to me. You always show me a different side to things and have expert smarts in so many different categories. I’m always touched by the shout outs and the feeling you give me of being respected.

Man, you couldn't PAY for that kind of ego-stroke. She even capitalised a random word as a little tribute.

(F-you. That's EXACTLY why she did it. At least that's what I'M telling myself...)

I've mentioned plenty of times how much I think of the girl and her writing ability, so I won't bore you by verbally fellating her (Or should that be "verbally cunnilinguing" her? And as "cunnilinguing" isn't even a real word, should I just say, "verbally munching" her? Or would that be too crass for such a touching sentiment? Or should I shut the f--k up and get on with the sentence?) yet again. Take it as read that you should all add her feed to whatever reader you happen to utilise, and you should read her archives.


If you DON'T use a feed reader, you should go and get a Google Reader account JUST to add Luli's blog. It really IS some top shelf stuff.

I have to hand it to her, though- she's a perceptive lass, that one. In that paragraph, she pretty much nailed what I'm trying to do around here. Well, the whole "expert smarts in many different catergories" thing is subject to debate, but the rest of it is bang on. It's gratifying to see that someone else "gets" what I'm about.

"Sarcastic and sometimes grumpy". Man, that is exactly what my epitaph is going to read.

Cheers, Luli. You're a doll.

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While I was at the hospital yesterday, I nipped out to the car, and saw that the light was just amazing. For the first time in ages, I actually had my camera with me at such a time, so I clicked off a few frames. Let me know what you think.

Later.