Out of the frying pan.

Steven: OK, yes, I'm the more talkative of the two of us (I mean between me and Rob, not me and Gil), or at least the more blogative.

Gil is sleeping as a write this (4pm), Rob is working out, Kofi is sort of self-entertaining, but every now and then coming over to me to have me read a story (Brown Bear, Brown Bear is a popular one these days). We've had several lessons in how not to kill or at least bother your brother too much, but these are upper level courses in toddler behavior it seems. Oh, and he's desultorily eating a banana.

There is something wondrous about having Kofi here: he is so fun at this age and so engrossing and demanding too. And the contrast is so stark between him and Gil who only needs a bottle and a good swaddle and who lies in your arms sleeping that sleep that only newborns know how to do. But it's like having the promise of child development right in front of you: there's no waiting for Gil to become "fun" because Kofi is. And there is no longing for those quieter halcyon days of Kofi's infancy, because we can have them through Gil.

That being said, dealing with both of them at once is, for obvious reasons I won't detail, a lesson in triage, self-control, and ultimately endurance.
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The last 24hrs has been a whirlwind. Yesterday morning we went to the hospital and found LeSahre still on a  morphine drip for pain control. Not that she was having pain (how could she given how much morphine the doctor had her on?) and, of course, we knew that she couldn't sign release papers while she was still on narcotics. So, after pushing (just a little, I swear) the nurse to get in touch with the obstetrician, her IV was removed at 9:30am. Now it was just a matter of waiting 4hrs (by law? by custom?) until the morphine was out of her system and she could release Gil to the agency, and ultimately to us.

So there we were, just before the nurse came in and LeSahre says "I really need a cigarette" and I, thinking I was being kind and generous, say, "As soon as your IV comes out, I'll take you downstairs to smoke." I think I even added, jokingly, "And I might even have one too." So when the nurse comes in and takes the IV out, LeSahre asks, "Can I go have a smoke now?" and the nurse says, "The doctor's orders are that you can't leave the floor. You can walk around in the hall, but you can't go outside."

Well, needless to say, this did not sit well with LeSahre, nor with me for that matter. In fact, I had reached my limit in tolerating the horrid treatment that LeSahre was receiving from this obstetrician and this hospital, and after a quick calculation of how much I might be damaging my own interests (i.e. a smooth transition of Gil to me and Rob), I followed the nurse out into the hallway and told her firmly, but nicely, that LeSahre was not a prisoner and she could leave the floor whenever she wanted. The nurse then gave me her "I'm just a nurse, sir" speech which, of course, incensed me even more that the nurses too were not being good patient advocates here (I know you're thinking that it's strange to advocate for someone's ability to smoke a cigarette, but it was the principle of the thing). So I told her that I didn't want to cause problems and I would much rather do this with the Doctor's blessing, but that I was going to take LeSahre out for a cigarette and could she please call the doctor to get his OK. (Truth be told, at some point I think I mentioned that LeSahre was an American citizen and had rights...just slightly over the top, there, I think.)

Anyway, my bluff worked and the doctor rescinded his draconian movement restrictions and LeSahre got her cigarette (perhaps, I'll write this as a short story some day: "How LeSahre Got Her Cigarette", published by the ACLU press).

A few hours later, Maxine from the adoption agency blew in, a tornado of white hair and zebra print clothes and accessories, as always. The paperwork was signed and in an anticlimatic end to our hospital experience, we all left together (LeSahre had been discharged -- a poor medical decision on the MD's part, I think, but I had pushed him enough for one day).

Then it was back to our hotel for another week while we wait for the states of Texas and Massachusetts to give their blessings to our leaving TX and entering MA, a ridiculous remnant of our federal system with 50 sets of rules and regulations surrounding adoption.

Which reminds me: I have to write an entry about why adoption should be a function of the state and not privatized.

Back to my family now.