Bye Bye Blowhole

They just rolled Cooper away from me, and I write sitting from the surgical waiting room of the Levine Children's Hospital. Surgical procedure number 7, and hopefully this marks the end our tour. The blowhole is being closed up as we speak. We were hoping the trach hole would close on its own, but it hasn't (probably because he was trached so young). So now the doctor is closing up the trachea, sewing together the muscle, and finally sewing the skin itself. At long last Cooper will be able to take up scuba diving (or at least take swimming lessons) and I won't have to worry as much about the rough-housing in the bathtub with his brothers.

Other times they've rolled Cooper away, I've cried. Today I didn't -- this is the END! And the interesting thing is that Cooper - who, as a result of the past 2 years, has become absolutely terrified of doctors and nurses and waiting rooms - was fine today, despite not having eaten and despite having been looked over and prodded by several doctors and nurses. I expected the usual screaming tantrums we face when we walk into doctor's offices. Not today. I think Cooper knows this is the end, too.

The other reason I didn't cry when they took him to the OR was that as they wheeled his crib away, Cooper, unafraid and drunk on some red medicine they fed him, was hugging his Elmo and happily chanting "Eh-Mo" "Eh-Mo," drifting off to Elmo's World. Not a care in the world.

To be continued....

More Apologies...

Dear Mailman:

I realized today that my 2-year-old boys have been mailing trash. Sticking it right through the mailslot. I'm not sure how long they've been doing this, but didn't want you to take it personally or think that we actually wanted that taco shell box mailed somewhere.

All our best,
The Kahn Family

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To the 3-year-old at My Gym on Friday:

No, Cooper isn't actually missing an eye, but thank you for pointing out that one of his eyes might have fallen out. He wears the patch cuz he's a pirate.

Shiver me timbers,
Cooper's Mom

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To anyone who has recently asked Zach "What's your name?",

No, his name is not Toooooooyay. He is 2. He just thinks that's the answer to any question since he turned 2. Yay.

Sorry for any misunderstanding,
Raizel


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Dear stuffed Elmo #6,

You are stuffed and not real, and I'm not sure you can read. In any event, I am sorry that your fur is matted and gross from the applesauce the boys tried to feed you this morning.

La la, la la,
Your biggest fans' mom




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Nacks

So today was a rough day. The munchkin critics just couldn't be satisfied. Here's a taste--

Zach, jumping up and down (but catching little air) and pointing to who-knows-what in my kitchen: "Nack! Nack! Nack!"

And in comes Charlie running at full speed (who is for some reason, wet) "Nacknacknacknacknack."

I ask them what kind of nack they want. They won't specify, but both keep pointing at the counter. There is nothing on the counter. The "nacks" get louder and squeakier. They can't believe I don't have ESP.

Then from the family room, "Nack Appa Appa!!" Then, KABOOM and a high pitched WAAAAAAAH. Oops - Cooper fell (again) and is lying facedown on the family floor, completely destroyed over the fact that he tripped (again) over that stupid imaginary line on the carpet.

Before I rescue Cooper, I hand pretzels to the monkeys climbing up my legs. The pretzels are hurled to the ground. A completely unsatisfactory nack. "NO---- DUCE!!!" "TEESE!" "DUCE!" Lots of stomping feet and angry tears as I leave them starving (after all, it has been 15 minutes since they finished dinner).

I turn Cooper over and realize that the stinker has taken his eye patch off for the 3rd time in 10 minutes. When I ask him what he did with his patch, he laughs at me and points at his eye, then toddles into the kitchen, looking for the elusive nack.

Five minutes later, everyone is satisfied with their nacks and the've moved into the sunroom for more exciting adventures. Zach and Charlie are scribbling on the table and Cooper is wearing the crayon basket as a hat. I look around my kitchen. A quarter-eaten piece of american teese lies on the floor. A nearly full cup of juice has been abandoned. Cooper's banana (his "appa") is squished into the carpet. I sigh and wonder how long til bedtime.

Gross

We were outside playing this morning and I noticed Charlie playing with a rock. Then I noticed that the rock was turning his hands colors. Then I realized he was playing with poop! At first it was unclear who the pooped belonged to. But when I brought him inside to get cleaned up, I realized that Houdini had taken a lump of poop out of his own diaper (while somehow leaving his shorts on and clean. What talent.)

TWO!!!!!

The boys turned 2 on Friday. It's been Elmopalooza for three straight days, complete with Elmo cake, lots of red icing, and lots of red poop.

Hard to believe 2 years have passed since that horrific day the babies decided they'd be born four months early. I've been pretty nostalgic lately. I reread this the other day http://www.babysites.com/sites/briankahn/default.asp?page=myjournal&seq=1&cmd=prev&story=06/05/2007. Still gives me chills and a lump in my throat. So do the photos of my babies, smaller than the beanie babies who kept them company in their incubators, but such fighters and so full of life. The photos posted above were taken when each baby was 1 day old, weeks before we were able to even hold them.

WHAT a year. Coop's trach is gone, and our former one-pounders are completely healthy, happy, sturdy little toddlers (gotta knock on wood, of course). The two-year mark is a pretty big milestone for micro-preemies. What miracles. We are so blessed.

But, just because they are miracles doesn't mean they are perfect little angels. HA. Some moments from the first 2 years that we'd like to forget (I really couldn't make this stuff up and probably should not admit any of this):

• The time Zach peed in my mouth. (Lesson to all new moms: don't chew gum like a cow while changing a baby boy's diaper).
  
• The time I wondered what Charlie was chewing on and realized it was a roach.
  
• The time Zach tried to go on television without pants or a diaper (see previous blog).
  
• Poop in the tub, poop in the tub, poop in the tub.


• The two times Cooper pulled out his trach (while I was home alone, without a nurse).


• The time Charlie puked on Brian's laptop and destroyed it.


• The time Zach puked all over my mom's head. I laughed so hard I almost peed.

Phew. What a ride. Terrible twos, here we come--

The Kahn Quads ?!?

I stand mistaken (see my previous blog). Prarie Dawn is not dead after all. She was the star of today's episode. We can all sleep a little easier tonight.

Yesterday I was out running with my triple jogger, and a woman walking in the opposite direction shouted "Hey! Those quadruplets??" (I am quite serious.) After checking my stroller to make sure I hadn't picked up an extra kid along the way (which actually would have explained why I felt like I had been running for 3 hours instead of 30 minutes), I shouted to her Yes! Meet my three quads!

OK, so I didn't actually tell her yes, though I wish I had -- she looked so disappointed when I told her they were just triplets. That lady's probably related to the people who ask me if the boys "are identical or paternal" (happens more often than you would think) and to the folks who have asked me if the boys "are natural." (I love that question. I really don't mind the noseys asking if fertility treatments were involved. But ARE they natural? Come on... do they look like artificial children to you?