Caylee Anthony Update

It's been quite some time since I blogged on this subject. There simply wasn't much news about the case, and I was busy preparing for the birth of our son.

Finally, on December 11th, the announcement came that the remains of a small child had been found in close proximity to the Anthony home. This announcement didn't jar me. I totally expected it and knew it was merely a matter of time. I knew it was Caylee--who else would it be?--and waited patiently for the DNA evidence to confirm what everyone already knew.
However, when Dr. G finally made the announcement this past Friday, I burst into tears; partly because it looked like Dr. G was choking back tears herself, partly because my new mommy hormones were still settling, but mostly out of sadness for a beautiful little girl who didn't deserve whatever horrible things happened to her to cause her death. Somehow the finding of her remains rendered her far more real to me than the phantom missing girl in the photos and video clips I'd been seeing for months.

I've only been a mommy a little more than 2 weeks now, but I can't possibly comprehend how anyone could do such a thing to her own child. I know there are those of you who still may doubt whether Casey is responsible or whether Caylee's death was an accident or murder, but give me a break, please. She was buried in a location her mother used as a fucking pet cemetery and, from the sound of things, wasn't even buried with the same care as the pets had been. Bottom line: the little girl died in such a way that her mother felt compelled to cover it up and dispose of her body. This boils down to gross neglect at the very least, and murder at the very worst. The fact that the grandparents have requested immunity (still waiting to hear whether this has been granted) implies some manner of wrongdoing on their parts--even if only obstruction of justice.

I can only hope that everyone involved in Caylee's death and the ensuing cover-up are held accountable for their deeds and sentenced accordingly. In a snippet from one of Casey Anthony's prison phone calls she says that her "gut feeling" is that Caylee is "OK and close to home." At least that last part was truthful.

Post-Partum Post

Just a quick update before Tobe and Daddy wake up.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend, Tobin Samuel Sincoff, has arrived! He was born at 4:47 pm on Thursday, December 4, 2008 weighing in at 6 lb 5 oz and measuring 18 1/2 inches. He is fantastically beautiful and healthy.

Ethan and I are exhausted, but overjoyed. My boys are napping on the couch as I type this (Tobe's in the Baby Hawk carrier strapped to Ethan's chest). I'm taking advantage of this break in the action for some "me time"--checking email and posting to the ol' blog.

The surgery went off w/o a hitch. I'm still a little sore, so utilizing my Percoset Rx, but feel great in general.

BFF Kayly is here to help (bless her heart). She made us a wonderful dinner tonight and saw me through my first sleep dep/hormonal imbalance shitfit. I felt soooooooooooooooo much better afterward.

I'm going to wake the little man up for pre-bed feeding in the hopes that he'll give Ethan and I at least 3 good hours of uninterrupted sleep. Keep your fingers crossed for us!

I'll leave you with a picture of Tobin emerging in all his purple, screaming glory and my favorite picture of our very first meeting. I'll post more pics when I'm well-rested enough that I remember to pull my underwear down before peeing. A crisis was narrowly averted, but it took me a sec to figure out why the seat wasn't cold.

Ooey gooey, fresh and jewy!!

So you're the little punk that's been pulverizing my innards for months...

OH! And congratulations to my friends Till and Sophie who both celebrated the births of beautiful baby girls on December 6th and 9th respectively. Discussions of arranged marriages and dowries are already in progress...

And Away We Go...

Not just yet. We've got about 90 mins until we head off.

Somehow I managed to get a good night's sleep, which was wonderful. Now I'm just hungry and dying for a cup of coffee. Ethan's running out to pick up some last minute things (like cat food, so we don't come home to 2 fur-covered skeletons), but I'm ready to go. Just a few more things to throw in the suitcase.

For my "going in" outfit, I've selected a black Maternity T and stretchy black crop pants. The pregnant ninja effect will be offset by my sock monkey slippers. Fuck shoes. Shoes are for bitches.

I was debating makeup since Ethan will be taking pictures in the OR, but I'll probably just save it for visitors from Friday on. I need to embrace the fact that it's perfectly acceptable for me to look exhausted and haggard today.

At this exact moment, I feel surprisingly calm. I've been through the procedure before, so I'm not in the least anxious about that. I'm trying to go into this thing with a confident, semi-cocky "of course everything's going to be fine!" attitude for a change. So far I've managed to muster a very zen, letting-go "nothing I can do from this point on..." attitude instead. It'll do in a pinch.

Boyfriend of the Week

I've decided to add a new weekly feature to the blog dedicated to my "Boyfriend of the Week." It drives Ethan nuts whenever I suggest, no matter how subtly, that I might find a particular celeb or artist attractive, yet it's perfectly fine for him to do the same--even going so far as making borderline inappropriate comments about the barely legal girls on Degrassi: Next Generation.

The honor of being my first ever BOTW goes to the insanely talented, eternally cool, undeniably sexy Mr. Elvis Costello. His new series, Spectacle, debuts on the Sundance Channel tonight at 9:00 pm. I can't wait to see it. He's bound to be a fantastic interviewer. He's also being nominated for his hysterically funny performance in Stephen Colbert's Christmas special.

Swoon...

Proud papa. He can rub my bump any day. Oops, did I type that out loud?
Accidents will happen...

Congratulations Elvis--on the new show and on being my inaugural Boyfriend of the Week!

One More Day

We got up far too early this morning to go to the Pathology lab at the hospital to have my pre-surgery blood tests. It took no time at all. We could've slept in another 30 to 45 mins :(.

We came home and put the car seat in the Corolla w/o killing each other. I'm chronically cranky since yesterday and poor Ethan is bearing the brunt of it. I have to keep assuring him that it's not personal, I'm just really, really uncomfortable. The seat had been lovingly installed in our other car by my good friend Bilynda, but said car decided to crap out last week.

Our fridge crapped out the day before Thanksgiving, so we're sitting here now waiting for the new one to be delivered. We were given a delivery window of 10:45 am to 12:45 pm. It's 12:33 pm now. WTF? I have my final OB appt at 3pm today. MFer had better be here by 2pm. I'm far too cranky to refrain from physical violence. I have this vision of Ethan holding me back while I yank out my earrings and scream and spit in the terrified Sears delivery guy's face.

If he's any later than 2pm, I'll need to drive myself to the appointment so Ethan can stay behind. I'm not thrilled about that. My stomach is now so tight against the wheel that Tobin could steer if he were so inclined.

We still have a few errands to run, but I'm looking forward to relaxing on our last night as a twosome. I'm not supposed to eat after midnight despite my surgery only being scheduled for 4pm tomorrow, so I'll be enjoying a sizable "last meal" tonight. Haven't decided what it will be, but it will be large and carb-laden and delicious, dammit.

Off to shower and then rest before my doc appointment. Ethan can wrangle the delivery guy. BTW, it's now 12:51 pm and no word from Sears. Nice. I just called and they're running behind. Looks like I'll be driving myself after all. If my OB checks my chooch and decides to admit me STAT, Ethan will have to take a cab to the doc's office to pick up both myself and the car. FUN!
I'll just keep my fingers and legs crossed that that doesn't happen...

Gravid

That's how I feel today--like a pregnant sea turtle. The ultrasound has it all wrong. There's no baby in there, just hundreds of wet, leathery eggs. I'm fighting the urge to drive down to Sandy Hook right now and dig a nice, big egg cavity in the sand with my hind flippers.

OK, so I'm being melodramatic again...It's definitely a baby. We saw him again today. The ultrasound technician tried her darnedest to get us some good face pictures, but he had his dukes up as usual. It's even tighter in there now than last week, so the face is even smushier.

In this first picture, he just looks like a face in the clouds.

In this next one, he looks exactly like Daddy when he's sitting on the couch, stuffing his face with pretzels and watching the Giants. That's his hand up by his yap.

I was ready to declare him the indisputable spitting image of his Dad until the tech took this next picture. She had been shaking him with the wand for a good minute or two trying to get him to put his hands down, but he flat out refused to do so. Instead, he favored us with this dead on impersonation of Mom's pissed off face. Note the furrowed brow and pouty bottom lip.

Man, is this kid gonna be trouble...