Everybody loves a baby who's 2 weeks old

It should be noted that it took me an hour to upload these pictures to the blog and to facebook, and I'm not even sure it's working. Thank goodness Moira is coming to town next weekend- she can help me get all the pictures in nice little online albums, right?

Thanksgiving Humor

My great-grandma is 101 and is in quite good health but for macular degeneration which has left her pretty much blind. On Thanksgiving, she held Johan for some time and was happy to do so, but commented that she wished she could see him better (I tried to push thoughts of the Big Bad Wolf out of my head). She asked me what color his eyes and hair were. I smiled, because, see, my great-grandma is a racist. I thought it would be amusing to say he had blond hair and blue eyes. She'd know I'm lying, because she still had some vision when Eduardo and I got married. But maybe I could secure Johan a place in great-grandma's will if I could convince her that he was, indeed, a scandiababy. But, alas, committed to teaching my new son that truth is important, I told her that his hair is black and his eyes dark brown. That should secure him at least 3/5 of a place in her will. And maybe 40 acres and a mule.

On a side note, speaking of mules, Johan is living up to his in utero reputation of being "abnormally stubborn and strong-willed."

Details (not too gory)

First of all, thanks to everyone who has called and e-mailed. It's been a busy few days and learning to do this is a little bit like the beginning of college, law school, or living in a new country. Lots of mistakes; a bit overwhelming; getting used to that nothing will ever be the same again. I'm sorry I haven't been able to answer my phone too much and am getting sorely behind on returning calls, but I will try to get better at that in the days to come.

Here are some highlights from the last few days.

-- Johan was delivered by c-section at 3:18 pm on November 15. My mom and Eduardo were in scrubs and in the room with me. Eduardo described himself as "doctor for a day."

-- Johan weighed 7lbs, 12 oz and was 21 inches long. Ummm...very much in the 50th percentile, and not at all over 9 lbs like the doctors were estimating. He is perfect and beautiful (see pictures in previous post).

-- Johan had lots of visitors in the first few days of life- lots of family and friends, including Michelle who came all the way from Chicago and Sarah who came all the way from Madison so that all important cities in the upper midwest were represented in welcoming him.

--Eduardo did a great job in the delivery room and then carried Johan to the nursery to be weighed and cleaned off. After that was over, he stepped out of the nursery and fainted. Like a true telenovela story. He didn't hit his head and Michelle together with a nurse wheeled Eduardo down the hospital emergency room to be checked out. He was diagnosed with a case of being an overwhelmed new dad. Other than that, he was perfectly fine. And continues to be perfectly fine, a great dad, and a 50-50partner with me in navigating this new life.

-- Sarah is Johan's godmother and will take care of the "My First Hanukkah" page of Johan's baby book. She will be responsible for kindness, a social conscience, and has already started giving out spiritual guidance ("Anything that you poop on should be easy to clean.").

--Johan is sleeping right now and seems to not grasp the concept that we stay awake during the day and sleep at night. I am hoping he learns this soon, although I must say I am bursting with pride at all the things he has already learned: to breathe; to eat; to burp; to open one eye while leaving the other closed; to furrow his brow; to cry; and to suck on his finger.

So, my mom is cooking us dinner right now, and I am going to sign off and start sampling the spaghetti sauce.

Thanks for everyone's well-wishes. I will update again soon.

Johan Robert Alcantara Lund, November 15, 2007

A Bit of Friendly Advice

If you ask a 9-month pregnant woman how things are going or how her doctor appointment went, just say nice things. Don't say things like "oooh, that's too bad" or "bummer," even if what she tells you is less than a perfect or ideal situation. Because you will just make her feel bad, and mostly whatever happens is out of her hands right now and anything you say besides "it's going to be fine" will probably just make her an insomniac and have to watch paid programming in the middle of the night.

I'm just saying.

Trust Me, I'm a Professional

It's kind of strange to be an actual, real, live licensed attorney. I spent so long as a clerk responding to client questions with "This is not legal advice as I am not an attorney, but...[insert answer to generally common sense question here]." Well, now I don't have to say that. In fact, I can advise a person who calls wanting to open a new case that, while I am sorry he broke his leg playing soccer, he's really assumed the risk and can't sue his recreational soccer team for damages. And that is legal advice.

I'm a greener attorney now than I will ever be. I certainly don't know more now than I did before October 26th, when I was admitted to practice. But I can say "I am an attorney/Soy abogada" and whatever follows that phrase carries more clout than it would otherwise.

I saw a really young doctor yesterday because mine has abandoned me until next Monday. She is in Africa helping those women, when she should be here for me. It's ok; I forgive her. I am surviving. But, this doctor from yesterday was way too young/green/cute for me to take seriously. My real doctor is at least 45 years old and her face and demeanor are full of experience and wisdom. She knows what's she's doing. I'm sure this doctor I saw yesterday in lieu of my own doctor is a qualified physician, but she was too green for my taste. She looked like she was in a sorority and was probably someone I would have resented in college for her shallow perspective and her unwillingness to be political enough. Thus, I trust her less to give me medical advice. I mean, how can she be that much of an expert? I used to know girls like her and they're mostly interested in keg parties and tight black pants on sale at Express.

I wonder if clients think similar things about me-- How can she know what she's talking about? What does someone so young know about law? But yet, they listen, they keep calling for more advice, their cases move forward, and are often resolved happily. Maybe part of my trick is having so many native Spanish-speaking clients. When they see/hear a gringa roll her "r"s like a native, they know I must be more than a sorority girl who went to Cancun a few times for MTV Spring Break, and having established that, maybe I actually know something about law, too. I hope so, anyway.

Maybe that young doctor should quit getting such streaky blond highlights and learn to roll her "r"s and then I might be able to trust her advice. Better yet, I'll just hold off on having this baby until my real doctor comes home. Godspeed.

Drop it like it's hot

News on the baby-front:

• Blessed child has descended to pelvis. This is called "dropping." TMI? WhatEV. This is good news because Pavo probably doesn't have a gigantic head making delivery impossible. Could still be 2-3 weeks to delivery, but maybe shorter? I will know more after seeing the MDs on Tuesday.
• Pavo gets the hiccups frequently.
• I had a dream the other night that he was born able to talk and when we were going home from the hospital he said "Hey, this reminds me of..." Then I interrupted him and said "What the hell? This can't possibly remind you of anything. You have never done or experienced anything so how can this car remind you of something?" And then we laughed together. And then I was apparently laughing in my sleep because it woke me up.

On a related note, I have determined that the hospital where we are delivering has WiFi so we can update the blog during the big event. Having my computer with me also means that I can watch many episodes of Season 3 and Season 6 of Sex and the City. Don't worry- they are already packed in my hospital bag.

Happy Halloween Mr. Vice President

Yesterday I stopped by Kowalskis to pick up one more bag of Halloween candy. As I was going into the store, Vice President Walter Mondale was leaving. (By the way, you always address heads of state and other government officials by the highest office they ever held, even if they no longer hold it. For example, it's wrong to say "Mr. Mondale" or "Mr. Clinton" -- the appropriate address would be "Mr. Vice President" in the former case and "Mr. President" in the latter. It surprises me how many people don't know this. But I digress.) I know Vice President Mondale as I was his student last year, and so we greeted each other and spoke for a few minutes. A teenage employee of Kowalskis was carrying Vice President Mondale's grocery bag, and he stood to the side, waiting, as the Vice President and I spoke.

After I went in the store, I wished I would have looked closer at the grocery-carrier's face to see his reaction to my conversation with the Vice President. The clerk was a high school kid, probably counting the seconds until he could get the hell out of work and go smash some pumpkins or TP the mean girl's house. But, I wonder if he even realized he was carrying the groceries of the former Vice President of the United States.

I have always known who Walter Mondale is, and until yesterday, it never occurred to me that anyone in Minnesota wouldn't know enough about him to recognize him. But maybe that's because I was alive in the 80s, am a tried and true Minnesota liberal Democrat, come from a community of proud Norwegian-Minnesotans who love to call Mondale one of our own stock, and from a family that closely follows politics. I guess that's not everybody. I mean, would an average 16-year-old kid have any reason to recognize Walter Mondale when he walks into a store? I hope so. I hope that kid addressed him as "Mr. Vice President." I bet he didn't.

As a side note, it was Pavo's first run-in with a famous person. I'm glad it was a DFL legend and Minnesota celebrity. Pavo will always know to say "Mr. Vice President" should we again cross paths with Walter Mondale.

Disclaimer: I have not decided if I think there should be an exception to the appropriate ways to address heads of state if those heads of state are guilty of war crimes, habitually disregard the Constitution, and were never legitimately elected to office. My friend Angelo has taught his 3-year-old son a great joke. If someone is being mean or rude, the little kid says "He's a real dick...[pause] cheney." That's pretty funny.