So, Abby, how are YOU doing?

I get asked this alot.  After the general inquiries into how Parker is progressing, people want to know how I am holding up myself.  My general answer is, "Tired." 

**that's a lie.  I am two exits on down the freeway from tired.**

A dear friend said to me this week, "I read your blog, but I haven't talked to you in ages!"  I hope she does not take it personally, because nobody has talked to me in ages.  My own husband might get 10-20 non-Parker related sentences per day.  Alas, such is life.  He's at work, I'm at the hospital, or he's at the hospital and I have Jeremiah.  Grown-up conversations are limited, thus I have decided to dedicate this entry to Grownup Things I Would Talk About If I Were To See Actual Grownups (outside of the hospital, of course):

1.  There's an annoyingly catchy song out right now called "Somebody That I Used to Know."  The xylophone part is, I swear to goodness, something we sight read at District Band tryouts in 7th grade.  It is sung by a man called Gotye...  I went around saying "Gotye"  like "Got-yer nose."  APPARENTLY it is "Gotye" like "Go-tee-yay" (as in Jean Paul Gaultier?)  Whatevs.  I like Gotyer Nose better.

 2.  I have taken such complete leave of my senses that I actually timewarped back 10 years.  In college, I had a parking pass for the Carlton Street Deck that hung on my rearview mirror.  You had to scan it at the gate to get in.  As I neared the entry gate at Egleston the other day, I grabbed Jeremiah's carpool number tag from the mirror and attempted to open the gate with it.  Somehow, decade-old muscle memory popped up and it took me a split second to figure out why the darn gate wouldn't open.

3.  Speaking of the parking deck, it endlessly amuses the cashier man at the exit that I bounce out of there after storytime shift with my late 90s gangster rap playlist going.  Ya know what, sir, something has to keep me awake as I drive home at midnight, and I shall "rock it til the wheels fall off" in my mommy mobile if I want to!

4.  I got the most remarkable customer service this week.  Long ago (as in 4 years ago), I bought a Playtex double electric pump on the clearance rack at Target.  I am not the sort to drop $350 on a Medela, but I needed one while I was nursing Jeremiah.  I scored the Playtex one for $93.  It worked like a champ for Jeremiah, sat dormant for 3 years, and is now working like a champ again for Parker.  Alas, I dropped one of the pieces, which is old and brittle, and it broke.  I called them, all ready to order and pay for replacement parts... all I got was a "I am so sorry for your trouble, ma'am.  We will overnight those parts to you at our expense."  No warranty.  No proof of purchase.  It is sad that we are now shocked by nice people.

5.  Pants with buttons are over-rated.  After spending almost year in stretchy pants, I am sad to give them up.  Still, it must be done.  To that end, I started the Biggest Loser Kinect game on the Xbox.  It scanned my body, made the MOST UNFLATTERING "3-d model" possible, and then informed me I was 3 feet 6 inches tall, with a 10 inch circumference neck. We are not off to a good start.

6.  We are all, here at the Knoll house, addicted to lactation cookies.  You might want to read that sentence twice, but I promise you read it right the first time.  After my mastitis, the lactation lady at Egleston recommended eating oatmeal and lactation cookies (say whaaa? I thought the same thing) to help get my supply back.  I found that recipe, spent $49 at Whole Foods/Fresh Market (weeping copiously at the cash register), and made a batch.  They are DELICIOUS.  After some initial misgivings that he might in fact start lactating (he hasn't), Mike has decided they are good for post-Crossfit workout, what with the protein and all.  That makes them MAN COOKIES instead.  Jeremiah is just happy to have cookies.  I don't know that they work miracles in the milk department, but I am willing to eat 2 a day in the name of research.

Or 5.  Just sayin'.

7.  Usher and I are cosmically linked.  He and his Baby Momma were having a baby at Northside the week that we had Jeremiah at Northside.  Just today I learned that he and his Baby Momma have a child (hers from a previous relationship) at Egleston suffering critical injuries from a jetski accident this weekend.
Before I heard that on the radio, I saw some man in sunglasses surrounded by an entourage in the lobby of the hospital.  It struck me as slightly out of place (but only slightly, there are some weirdos in children's hospitals) until I heard the news report of my drive home.  I intend to do some more reconnaissance for positive ID.  If it is him, I have to tactfully ask him if he will come dance with my sister when she visits next.  Sister HEARTS Usher.

That's all I can think of.  I miss my friends and family, and I miss my normal life.  Still, this is a temporary situation, I know my people love me (AND I LOVE THEM TOO!), and quite frankly, they aren't missing out on too much excitement in my life, as evidenced above.  My brain cells are devoted these days to entertaining a 3 year old and caring for a 7 week old in intensive care.  Speaking of:

Jeremiah spent his weekend with my dad, going bowling and riding gocarts and playing with all of EE's big boy toys (that's Lizzie, pictured above).

Parker spent his weekend workin' on his fitness with our physical therapy homework.

And sleeping.  He gets an A+ in sleeping.

Tomorrow SHOULD be a wean on Parker's oxygen, which SHOULD mean oral feeds can start this week.  We would so love some prayers that this part will go smoothly... CDH babies are notoriously bad at oral feeds, and it can really be a speed bump on the way out the door. 
Thank you for all your prayers and support, as always!