Imperturbable

Right from the start, Charlie has shown an aptitude for things that matter if you happen to be a baby: sucking (for good eating), diaper-filling (for processing the food that is sucked in), and squawking or screaming, as required, to get the necessary attention if hungry/cold/lonely, or if pacifier or blanket needs proper adjusting. So far, so normal.

But there is one area where we are convinced that Charlie excels, that perhaps is normal for a fourth baby but in our experience is abnormal for anyone earlier in the birth order: Charlie is imperturbable. The kid can sleep through anything. Just yesterday, he was sleeping peacefully in his bouncy seat, which was resting on the floor next to our kitchen table. I watched him for only 10 minutes and in that short time witnessed Tripp shout Molly's name to get her attention in the next room; Sophie slam shut the cabinet drawer where her markers are kept (which happened to be 12 inches from Charlie's sleeping head); Sophie bump into Charlie's seat as she retrieved said marker, sending him bouncing up and down; and Coco our dog sniff Charlie's feet in her continuing quest to figure out what is this new "toy" we've brought into the house.

In all of that, Charlie never awoke and barely moved a muscle. He continued to sleep for another thirty minutes until feeding time. This skill of his is what is keeping us sane, and what should serve him well and give him a fighting chance to survive in this wacky household into which we've brought him.

At the very least, he'll have a well-developed escape mechanism for later life.

The Watched One

If a person were to get constant attention, what would happen? If one could never escape the gaze of others, if one never had a moment alone, if one were constantly being monitored and checked and refreshed and offered assistance, what would be the result?

My hypothesis is that the result would be one of two paths: spoiled rotten, or driven insane. Whichever it is, we may have a chance to test the hypothesis. Consider how Charlie spends his days:



The little man is under constant supervision, which means he will never want for a blanket or pacifier. Hopefully, he won't go crazy. The closest that he gets to a little alone time seems to be during diaper changes; nothing sends the "help" scattering like a good dirty diaper. Perhaps he'll learn to be the most regular kid that ever lived.....

Home At Last!

As comforting and relaxing as it is to have her vital signs checked every four hours, her meals delivered to her bedside in varying degrees of warmness, and her sense of time suspended by the constant glare of strong flourescent lighting (which has the added attraction of making skin look pale and clammy at all times), Sylvia still shares the universal desire to get out of the hospital as soon as she can. But of course it is not so simple as checking out of a hotel; one doesn't check out, one is dismissed, and it takes a sign-off from a variety of people to be properly dismissed, people who don't like to come to work early on a Saturday to do their jobs. So, hopeful though we were to leave this morning, it was about 1:45p before we got out of the hospital.


Since we live just 1.4 miles from the hospital, Charlie got to see his home for the first time before 2:00. As you can see, he didn't see much; he'll have to check it out later.

Welcome to the World!

Charles Edward Corts was born at 12:37p today at Northside Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. It is risky for the father to try to describe the birthing process--as soon as I describe it as "easy" I'm at risk for a "Yeah, for you" rebuke--so I'll stick to the facts: Sylvia was induced beginning at 6:30a, so the whole process took about six hours. He tipped the scales at 6 lbs 13 oz and stretched the tape measure to just a quarter inch shy of 20 inches. The doctor on duty, Dr. Hathaway, was in the middle of a C-section elsewhere in the hospital, so Dr. Dawson dashed up to the hospital from his office in time to catch Charlie as he came out.


His siblings got to meet him after school, when he was about four hours old. They are all enamoured with him, and he is sure to quickly develop a thick skin in order to protect himself from the hugs, tugs, pinches, and pulls it will be his destiny to endure.

All is well in the hospital--Sylvia can send him off to the nursery to ensure a good night's sleep for herself. What will happen at home?