Nora

We're getting ready for discharge from the hospital. Nora is doing very very well. She has to be woken up to eat.

Sam spent yesterday evening with us and only had to be reigned in a few times during her enthusiastic snuggling.


Becky's parents have never openly admitted that our children are their favorites, but you can see it plainly in their awestruck faces.






In this photo, Lucy is communicating. At first glance, it appears as though she's saying "Oh! Baby!" What she's actually saying is "You look really nice, there. You wanna stay lookin' real nice? I bet you do. You want that my fingers don't end up in your eyeballs? I bet you do. You remember your place, baby, 'cause I'm gonna be remembering your place, too. Sucka."


And here's the little sucka.

BIRTH

We arrived at the hospital around 6:00 AM and got ourselves mentally prepared.


The Pitocin started around 7:00, and Becky really began feeling it a short time later. Here she is with a centimeter count.
Blessed be the hands of the CRNA. She got her epidural at 9:30ish and got a reprieve from the insane squeezing.

An hour later, she had progressed from a 5 to a 9.5 and felt those primal urges, though completely devoid of pain.
The following movie has some flying uterine matter. Beware.

And there she is. Sticky and sweet, like a carmel apple, but without the stick.



Nora Deanne Tolman was born at 10:48 AM.
She weighed 8 pounds 1 ounce. She's a little less bald than her father, and she's almost as beautiful as her mother.
Sam is very dissappointed that she couldn't start dressing Nora up and take her home today. Lucy was mostly interested in the rolling stool.

E I G H T

Gotcha. This is Lucy.

We have 8 more days until this beautiful baby #3 is born. 8 is not a happy number right now. I know there are some of you that think, "8 more days! That would be fabulous if I only had 8 more days." But to me, 8 is more like

15 or so more diaper changes

7 more nights of "sleep"

3450 more bathroom visits

24 more meals to cook.

So to cheer myself up, I've found some good things about the number 8.

8:
The atomic number of oxygen.
Thank goodness for oxygen. It would really hurt without it.

Hanukkah is 8 days long.

How sad if it was only 7.

Kids can get baptized once they are 8 years old.

This lady got baptized.

In Islam, it is the number of angels carrying the Holy Throne of Allah in heavens.

This says "The holy throne has to do with the number 8."

Eight is considered a lucky number in Chinese culture because it sounds like the word "prosper" or "wealth."

Doesn't he look wealthy?

Super 8 Motels

This particular Super 8 is in our hometown. For reservations, please call: 1-800-8000.

There are 8 musicians in a double quartet. I've always liked a double quartet.
"8 Days a Week" is a #1 single for the Beatles. Proposition 8. This is an old picture of my family.

It is the retired jersey number of Cal Ripkin, and we all know how much I love Cally.

There are 8 tablespoonfuls in a gill.

(yeah, I don't really know what a gill is)

Jon & Kate Plus 8. We're cuter:
8 furlongs in a mile. This guy's last name is Furlong.

"After 8" mints. No explanation necessary. Mmmmm.

An "eighth" is a common measurement of marijuana. I like Mary Janes better.

A stop sign has 8 sides

Darling Death

Samantha's mind has of late been an interesting combination of pretty princesses and gory, horrible darkness. Aside from the current "Tolman Quote of the Week", some of her recent out-of-the-horrid-left-field statements have included:

"Mommy, if our mouths got burned off, we couldn't talk to eachother."

"You have a big brain. I can't wait to see it. Maybe when you crack your head open."

"Barbie drowned."

Here's an example of her when she's not freaking us out.

The Ladies

They say the best camera is the one you have with you. So when the Red Hat Ladies show up at the hospital to visit one of their compatriots, and all you have is your cell phone, use sure as Luther Vandross better be ready to hand that cell phone to a coworker and take advantage of the opportunity.

Victoria's Tantrum

The discerning eye might notice that our three-year-old is not wearing a child's pajamas in this picture. Maybe she'll just get to keep that outfit.






Speaking of Becky fitting into things, we're getting there. As St. Andrew is my witness, we are getting there.