We follow the progress of Odin, a young boy that was born with a lot of the same challenges as Jack. He had the same ROP surgery that Jack had, and he was born 25 weeks, one week earlier than Jack. He’s a super-cutie. We’ve gained some strength from watching the Snowdeal clan work through the issues of preemie parenthood.
This week, Odin woke up and was having trouble seeing out of his right eye. Over the past several days, it’s become clear that he is in serious danger of having a retinal detachment, which leads to blindness. Sarah and I have been thinking about Odin all week, and we’re sending all our good vibes his way.
The thing thats scary about this is that Odin is 4 years old. And as Eric, Odin’s dad, eloquently put it: “day 1464: the long arm of prematurity reaches out and sucker punches us.”
That’s what really gets me. It may be years before we fully understand all the effects of Jack’s prematurity. And even as I strive to put it behind us and move on with the normal worries of parenthood, the reality is that there are unknown effects of prematurity that can take years to manifest.
I recognize that all parents worry about their kids. I get that. I mean, my mom says, “Just wait ’till he asks you for the car keys and says he’ll be home by 3:00am. Now that’s worry!”
But I feel like for us, there is another layer. We get to worry about all that normal parent stuff, plus we have to try not to obsess or project our preemie worries onto Jack.
Last thought. Snowdeal posse, we’re wishing you the best of luck, and reminding you that Odin is a very very tough cookie.
Well, we knew that it was bound to happen. We even joked about it. Who would be the lucky parent on duty (get it?) the night Jack pooped while taking a bath? At long last, our question has been answered: Sarah was the big winner.
This is a related clip from the classic American film, Caddyshack.
In the name of decency, I thought better of taking pictures of this magnanimous event, but here is another bath-time picture so that you can see the scene of the crime. Please note the look on Jacks face. It clearly says, “Who me? I would never… ever… poop in the bath.”
The good news is that he was none the wiser and aside from a thorough rinse-down he seems to have escaped unscathed.
EDIT — It was time for a new look around here. Whadda ya think?
Last Sunday was a pretty huge day. First, we went to the Central Park Zoo with Sarah’s cousin Rick and girlfriend and her 2 children. We saw seals, monkeys and of course, the polar bears. Fun was had by all
Then, it was off to celebrate Maddys first birthday, so we hopped in a cab and zipped on over to the westside for some serious partying. There was cake and presents and balloons and balloons and balloons and balloons and balloons, oh did I mention that Jack likes balloons?
Over the past several days, Jack has developed a new bedtime routine that I think bears mentioning.
- 8:30pm Appears to be getting tired.
- 9:00pm: Bedtime
- 11:30pm: Wakes up screaming
- 11:45pm: Ignores parents “crying it out” teqnique
- 12:15am: Mom forces Dad out of bed to go get him
- 12:16am: Dad attempts to rock Jack back to sleep.
- 12:35am: Stays down for 15 minutes, then repeat Dad repeats previous step as several more times.
- 1:30am: Dad strangles Jack Bart Simpson style.
- 1:30am: Dad and Jack go back into living room where playing and general happiness are restored.
- 2:30am: No signs of being tired.
- 3:30am: Dad starts watching Burt Reynolds in Sharkys Machine.
- 4:30am Despite no signs of being tired, Dad puts Jack back to bed and he stays down.
- 4:30 and 11 seconds am: Dad passes out.
As a parent, one of the most important responsibilities that I have is to impart good values on Jack. Its very important to me that he be able to come to his own conclusions and generally, I feel like I’m there to steer him the right direction. However, there are some issues that I feel very strongly about and today I laid down the law on an issue that is near and dear to my heart:
Progresso Chickarina is the best canned soup that there is, period. Its not up for discussion. It’s my favorite soup, and it’s going to be Jack’s favorite too. This is one of those things that I just cant compromise on and if he grows up to think that Campbells Tomato is better, I’ll be forced to disown him.
Al little background:
My love for this soup started at a very young age, but it wasn’t until I was about 22 years old and more closely inspecting the can that I noticed that its not called “Chickenarina”. I’ve been calling it that for as long as I can remember, and it still drives my dad crazy. I’ve thought about petioning Progresso to change to name to Chickenarina and I’m certain that my brother Roland would be the first signature.
So anyway, Jack tried it today and seemd to like it, but he didn’t love it. And really, what’s not to love? The meatballs? Who doesnt like meatballs? The pasta, or the delicious chicken broth? No way! its impossible not to love it, and believe me, he’s gonna. I don’t care if I have to feed it to him exclusively for the next 10 years, he’s gonna love it and thats final.