Bill–triplets? TRIPLETS? Three little Myerlings? Or is Jerry just wishing evil on you in his seriously sleep-deprived state? Actually, I should say,wishing evil on Jeannie? (Why would he do that, I wonder?)

Bill only got one thing wrong and that was completely my fault for hitting the wrong key when I sent the first email out. Ian was born at 11:32. He decided to explore the world about seven weeks early, so he was kinda small. He only came in at 4 lbs. 6.2 oz. & 16.9 inches at birth.

Still, for a seven week early baby boy at that size, he’s coming along quite well. He hit his first major benchmark (breathing on his own and at 100%) in under ten hours, his second (pooping his diaper) at just around twenty four hours and he has gone on to two bottle feedings a day starting today. I just left the hospital about an hour ago where had successfully repeated two of his benchmarks at the same time. In a thirty minute feeding time, he ate from the bottle for five minutes, pooped for twenty minutes and then finished off the bottle in the last five minutes. I mean, dear god, there was more poop there then there was baby. This was a very scary thing when looking at the future. If he keeps this kind of thing up, there’s going to be a time that he does that kind of a load and I can’t pawn the diaper job off on Jenn.

Jenn’s doing well after a small setback. Ian had to be delivered via c-section and Jenn’s stitches all went pop yesterday before they were going to discharge her. They spent about an hour or so re-sewing everything with better grade thread and a few staples to boot and Jenn’s doing much better now. She should be able to come home late this weekend. Ian still has a couple plus weeks to go before we get to bring him home though, so Jenn is going to be getting dropped off there a lot when I head into to work to sit the evening out with him.

I’m falling apart. I’m functioning on very little sleep, still have three weeks worth of prep to do around the house (it seemed a safe schedule for an August 22 due date) and my wife’s cat is sure that I’m hiding mommy from him just to be mean. That translates into a cat the hides all day, stomps his feet when he does come out and occasionally scent marks my shoe. He’s only a wee bit less high strung at the moment then I am. God help Jenn when she wobbles through the door later this weekend. She’s going to be hit by a flying cat in a manner that’ll be either reminiscent of Odie hitting John when he walks through the door or Goldberg spearing some poor jobber.

Now, I have to go to bed. Strange as it may seem, I actually feel the need to sleep rather then blog and watch cheap grade horror flicks until 3 AM. God help me, but the fatherhood infection is already kicking my butt. Still, I don’t have it as bad now as Myers will then when they have to welcome the triplets into their lives.