Ode to Footlong

Today I want to talk about the joy that is Footlong, a.k.a my spunky six year old son, G.

I always knew that I wanted to have kids. Growing up I remember telling my own mother that I wanted to be a Christmas tree decorator, a flower planter, and a mommy. I love kids. I babysat all through high school and college. In college I sat for the head of food services at the university; he and his lovely wife had three boys ages 8, 4, and 4 months. I fell in love with those kids, and I sat for them regularly for about two years. It was those boys that planted the seed in my head that a bunch of boys would be awesome.

My ex-husband (thankfully) was sterile we didn’t have any children together. When I had been dating J for just a couple of months I knew he was going to be the father of my babies. I also knew that we were going to have boys; I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. I started buying cute baby boy outfits. I couldn’t wait to have kids.

J and I married in late 2003, and a little over a year later I started to plan the 10-year class reunion for my high school graduating class. I called several classmates, and all of them had at least one child. I started broaching the subject more and more often with J, but he was hesitant to start a family because he was in grad school. Finally, in early February 2005, we decided to go off birth control and have a baby.

I went to the doctor for a Pap Smear, and the doctor said I was in good health. She did tell me, however, that a majority of obese women have some difficulty getting pregnant because the excess body fat interferes with hormone levels. She said that losing even twenty pounds would help me get pregnant, and she told me that if I wasn’t pregnant within two years to come back for fertility testing.

I left the office and went home. We thought we had plenty of time to save some money, and I could work on getting in better shape. In the mean time, we would just have fun practicing. We were both absofuckinglutely shocked when we got pregnant the very first month we tried; more specifically, we got pregnant the very first time we had unprotected sex. This was our baby. This little person was meant to be ours. I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that it was a boy. Everyone else, friends, family, and co-workers swore I was carrying a girl. I smiled, but I knew deep down G was a boy.

My gut feeling was confirmed at my 20-week ultrasound. We also learned that G had an enlarged kidney (hydronephrosis). This is the most common abnormal intra-uterine finding, and it occurs more in boys than girls. We had follow-up ultrasounds every 4 weeks, and at 32 weeks we were overjoyed to learn that G had two normal kidneys.

I loved feeling G kick and squirm. He went on a hike every night at bedtime. I craved sour plums, ripe peaches, milk, dessert, and cheese like crazy. I had always been self-conscious about my size, but I was proud to have my belly sticking out. Toward the end of the pregnancy the 20 pounds I gained and the position of the baby made me waddle like a fat duck.

Labor was long and rough, but after 30 hours of labor and 2 additional hours pushing G was born. I was panicked because he wasn’t crying; he was born fully awake, calm, breathing on his own, and just taking everything in as if to say, “So, this is life? Hmmmmph.”  He was a little floppy but otherwise healthy and perfect. It was so weird to all of a sudden see his face and his body when for months I had just been able to feel a head, back, and rump. He had chubby cheeks like J, big blue eyes, and downy blond-colored fuzz on his head. He didn’t even cry until the tech started inking his foot for footprints.

G grew and grew and was an absolute joy in our life. We couldn’t believe that we ever had a life without him. He kept his big blue eyes, but the poor booger didn’t grow any hair until he was almost a year old. He was a happy and calm baby who loved story time, snuggles, and he only cried when he was hungry or tired.

Fast forward six years, and I have a very inquisitive, blond haired, blue-eyed son who loves steak, broccoli, pancakes, carrots, fruit, and yogurt; he picks up new skills very quickly. He loves hugs and kisses, and he is very sensitive. He loves playing with his little brother and often solicits laughs that J and I can’t.

I love you, Buddy!


66 thoughts on “Ode to Footlong

  1. Aw, thanks Skirts! FYI, Mr. Snort is the guy with the goatee. The photo of Footlong standing next to a guy with no goatee—that is my (not so little) brother.

  2. I really do appreciate all of your kind comments and comments sticking up for me, but in all fairness we don't know that is was BMM who left the comment; the thought crossed my mind, but I'm not going to point fingers. Whoever said that horrid thing about my son is obviously trying to get at me. Whatthefuckever. Grow up, Anonymous.

  3. I've watched "Malcolm in the Middle" and am well aware of what Erik per Sullivan looks like, thank you very much. I can take the heat just fine. I don't give a flying fuck whether you like me, my blog, my kids, or whatever. You are nothing more than a miserable fucktard 😀

  4. Wow, it is so sad to see someone with so little going on in their own life that they have to stoop so low as to insult a well-meaning person and her children. If it weren't for mean people like that, I could publish comments under my own name. Keep snortin' away behind that computer, Snort- I love your blog, your snark, and your smile.

  5. Awww, someone is feeling lonely and jealous that others have happy, smiling families surrounding them; that their lives are filled with their loved ones. So instead of just quietly slinking back to their holes, they keep slinging crap. Piss off, Anon. Blech.~WUWD

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