CPR Class

Today, Tom and I took our Infant/Child CPR + First Aid class.  8 hours worth of class later, we're certified to save Aidan from choking on hot dogs and having febrile seizures. I did this course 3 years ago, and it was a totally different experience.  Every picture I saw made me sad, every really awful 80's enactment of an accident brought me to tears, and I couldn't stop thinking about all of the misfortunes that could befall poor little A.  I sort of want to keep him tied to his stroller and on a liquid diet.

Tom wanted to poach away a nanny who was taking the class - regardless of the fact that she HAS a job, and we won't need anyone for another six months.  He wouldn't drop the issue until she started excitedly chattering away about some priest or something that she just heard speak at her college.  That was enough to help Tom move along.  I'm more than not ready to think about which stranger we're going to pick to take care of our son.  Blergh.

Tom got the dumpiest, most ghetto Resuscitation Annie doll EVER.  The poor thing was absolutely filthy (the picture doesn't show this too well) and totally emaciated.  Not to mention bafflingly anatomically correct (um, does a CPR mannequin actually need a VAGINA?).

Those are some strong feet!

Today, 22w3d, I saw Aidan's kicks for the first time.  It's funny, because I was literally JUST saying to Tom that lots of girls on the boards have started seeing kicks, so it should happen soon for us.  Later on, I was lying in bed watching TV, and felt like the little hatcher was kicking extra hard.  I took a peek and noticed, sure enough, I could totally see him kicking!  I wonder how long that's been going on.  I feel like the least observant pregnant person on the face of the planet.

By Popular Request...

Me and Aidan, 22w2d.  Moo.