Now that we are home and trying to take care of Mom and Dad who I have to wake up every two to three hours for their opportunity to pick me up and play, it has become more difficult to get back to writing. This is in no way a reflection of a challenging time, but rather one that is busier than most. There are a few items in my new home worth some amount of editorial, and I would like to make a note of it here.
First is the initial conditions of my food. When I first came home all of the beverages were at best room temperature, or even worse luke warm. Who, pray-tell, enjoys their milk like this? Once I expressed enough displeasure to management my bottles started coming straight from the fridge to my little lips. Now, we are talking! My enjoyment of feeding time has tripled since I get it faster, colder, and happier into my tiny tummy.
Patrick having just finished a meal in our bed.
Secondly, is the parade we must go on to travel any where. Since I am still hooked up to the heart monitor (because we are still working off some trust issues), I am constantly tethered to this box which beeps *all the time*. To go to bed is a three person affair with either Mom or Dad carting me up the stairs, and the other one dragging a line behind us. This kind of thing is getting a little absurd, but reasonable considering the prison option they taunt me with at 3AM when I know they want to sleep.
If you keep taking my picture, I'll pee on your bed Dad.
For the most part I am still seeing many of the same doctors that I did when I was in the hospital full time, but things are starting to settle down now. Hopefully, we will begin to drop off our medical staff, and I can really start showing off my stripes.
I love you peanut butter & jelly,
Patrick
He's so cute!
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