Almost There

Well, it's been a while since we managed to get anything up here. I'm going to blame it on the small provincial French village of Caumont. Mostly because it would be just as valid as anything else I might give you. We really don't have an excuse.

Let's see, in the last three weeks, here's a quick rundown: baby furniture all done, diaper disposal device assembled, baby clothes inventoried and ready to go, stuffed animals arranged in crib, baby growing like crazy (more on this in a moment), one woman entirely over the novelty of being pregnant, and nesting (though to be honest, Alison nesting is not that different from her being her normal, organized, meticulous, impatient-with-dirt, intolerant-of-disorder, self).

The baby, in another instance of something that is probably my fault, is getting pretty big in the belly. The doc is saying the little monkey is already 8 lbs. As most of you know, Alison ain't the biggest gal as is, so an 8 lbs. baby is pretty significant precentage of the overall package. So, the doc has Alison scheduled to induce in about two days. This boils down to a few factors: large kid, Baylor's induction unit gets booked up about two weeks in advance, the bigger the baby - the more chance of a c-section. So the doc said we may as well set it up so that if Alison decides to induce, we can go ahead and get this show on the road.

On the one hand, it's nice to think that we can put a solid due date on this event, on the other hand, there is the crushing reality that HOLY SHNIKES!!! I'M HAVING A BABY. I'm going to go ahead and say that no matter what anybody says, they're not ready for their first kid. That's like saying a first term senator from one of the most politically corrupt cities in America is ready to bring truth and transparency to Washington D.C. (you know who you are).

It's frickin' daunting. The truth is, most of the time I have a hard enough time taking care of myself. And those of you who have known me long enough, know pretty well, I managed to mess that up a few times. How the hell do you raise a kid? Yeah, yeah, I know about the books, the videos, the websites, and the mountain of accumulated knowledge out there that supposedly tells you how to raise a munchkin so that they're still willing to speak to you when they finally realize they don't have to depend on you anymore.

But what about the stuff they don't tell you about? How do I keep the kid safe from Crocs, James Taylor, mullets, $500 cars with $4,000 stereos, white gangsta rappers, silk paisly shirts, or movies starring David Cross?

How do you explain to a child that despite the love and joy and happiness that you (hopefully are successful in providing) that the rest of the world is also full of really stupid, astonishingly ignorant, and sometimes really evil people?

I've been eating salame, brie and bagguette sandwiches for lunch a lot lately. It reminds me of trips I took with my parents and sister when I was a kid. It's nostalgia, memories of what I remember as a simpler times.

How do you balance the sense of innocence you want your child to have with the reality of what's going on around us?

There have been very few moments of genuine, justified, inescapable fear in my life. Most of them had more to do with failing others than failing myself, and now I'm faced with trying not to fail the single most important person I'll ever have to worry about disappointing. Daunting.

Also...for the record...and I may regret this...pregnant women are not always rational or reasonable. There I said it.

24 Days To Go

Alison is counting the days down. If, for example I say we have four weeks left, and we actually only have say, three weeks and four days, she is quick to correct me. The novelty of being knocked up has worn itself thin. I may have mentioned that before, but it bears repeating. As the baby keeps growing, and the tummy keeps going, her attitude towards the little munchkin in her tummy has changed from the wonder of a mother to be into one of a traffic cop trying to keep things moving..."alright buddy, keep it moving, hurry it up, let's get this show on the road."

I can't say I blame her. I doubt I would handle having a person inside me very well, particularly if that person made me pee as much as the little rugrat is making her go.

We'll have all the baby stuff set up by the end of this week. Probably by tomorrow, but we'll see how far I get. As I mentioned a while back, the kid has more stuff in Dallas than I do. But that is a good thing, as I am pretty low maintenance and let's face it, that is not a claim that has ever been made about children.

I have been lucky enough to get some cool stuff too. The diaper bags I've been blessed with are remarkably manly. All black, nylon, not a pastel animal to be seen anywhere on the things. Eventually I'll find one with skulls or something on it. It's not so much that I want to be a cool dad, although i do, I think I am just scared of growing up and being not cool. Not that I was ever that cool in the first place. I guess I just don't want to be any less cool than I really am. Conflicting, isn't it? I will go kicking and screaming into responsible adulthood, but I promise not to do anything too ridiculous, I know how to act my age when I need to. For example, I understand that hoodies are not appropriate casual wear for me anymore. I have figured out that the T-Mobile Sidekick is not an age appropriate phone. I know that pants with holes in them, especially the pre-made kind, are now reserved for young people with not sense of decency, and middle-aged guys who can't let go of thier 20's. I've accepted what I would have considered a mild hangover in my 20's, now constitutes something just short of the ebola virus now that I'm approaching my mid-30's. And I also know that just about everything on the radio sucks and the bands I listen to did it better and first. Just like my dad knew when he heard the stuff I was listening to.

I think a lot of the preceding was brought on by this site: http://wannafeelold.tumblr.com/.

It is weird to think my kid won't know what a compact disc was, or that he/she will know Jordan as the greatest basketball player much the same way I know Ali was the greatest boxer, through old film, and the ramblings of crazy old people. By the time the kid can pay attention to sports in any meaningful way, it's almost doubtful they'll know who LeBron is. The kid will never have an old school boxy-ass TV. Pro-Sports without steroids will be something I moan and groan about as 400 lbs. 7-foot tall quarterbacks zip frozen ropes 50 yards to wideouts who run 3.1 40's.

They'll never know what it means to live in a country where newspapers used to actually be paper, or where getting famous actually required some sort of achievement, rather than a sex tape or drug habit, or a stint on reality TV. Or when traveling by air didn't involve taking off his or her shoes, and randomly searching old ladies in wheel chairs for possible terrorist activities.

On the other hand, the kid will hopefully have missed the inevitable emo revival that's coming. So they've got that going for them. Which is nice.

A Night Home Alone

Keith ventured off to meet his gym buddies to watch UFC102 at a bar, so it's a nice and quiet Saturday evening for me. I'm not sure if my nesting instinct has kicked in, but it sounded like a fantastic idea to clean the kitchen. Boy, in the last weeks of pregnancy the littlest chore can become extremely exhausting. However, our kitchen is sparkly clean and our dishes are washed.

Our monkey is doing well, moving a ton in my belly. Braxton Hicks contractions have definitely increased, especially when I go walking. Fortunately, they are not painful but uncomfortable...they stop me in my tracks sometimes. I really don't know how much bigger Monkey can get because there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of room left, but it's just wishful thinking - One ounce a day. As you can see to the right are the pictures from the ultrasound on August 4th. Keith and I believe the baby will take after him, just look at the first picture - super long toes (Daddy is excited to teach the little one to use the feet to pick-up things)! The second and third pictures are of the baby staring directly at us.

As the days pass by, I get more and more excited for our monkey to greet us. Am I scared of labor? To be perfectly honest, I was at the beginning of the third trimester; however, I'll be elated to not feel like a beached whale every day. Now, I'm just hoping for a uneventful labor and delivery...smooth sailing, if you know what I mean. I think Keith will be a fantastic coach, but he's been warned about foul language and mean comments that may fly out of my mouth during labor which cannot be held against me in the future. I'm not really sure if my mom ever said awful things to my dad while she was delivering me, but I can only imagine. Goodness, the more I think about it - one wish I have is that she was here to experience labor and delivery with me. But, I know that she's watching from far above and making sure nothing bad will happen to me or the baby. I sure miss her more than ever...

On Pooping and Parenthood

As Alison noted I have voted myself Chief Diaper Changer. I did this mostly because of the guilt I feel everytime I see her straining to do something she used to be able to do with not much effort. Pregnancy can certainly be awkward for women, and she is handling it with more grace than I would have given any woman credit for.

Besides I have a degree in Political Science, so I have a certain amount of expertise in dealing with large piles of s#%t left laying around by someone with no thought for the people who have to live with the consequences. But unlike politicians, I know that eventually the baby will learn to dispose of its own mess.

We were sitting in Costco, that Mecca of consumer excess, eating their excessively cheap munchie food (a buck fifty for a huge slice of pizza? Evil.), and as I absentmindedly finished off the crust I was struck by a) the sheer number of children in the place, and b) the middleaged white couple running around in Dianetics t-shirts. If my kid ever joins that stupid cult, I'll blow something up.

It's not that there were an abnormal number of kids there, they weren't having a free appearance by Dora the Explorer or anything. It was just staggering how many people have kids. I remember when I didn't know anybody (at least, any responsible anybodies) with kids. Now I'm hoping more of my friends get knocked up so I'll have people to hang out with and bitch to. And by bitch I mean commiserate. Shared struggles, the support of someone else with that thousand yard stare brought on by the debilitating combination of baby's chemical warfare campaign, lack of sleep, and lack of attention to one's own life.

I do realize that sounds like I'm only considering the downsides. Don't worry, I'm not. I'm just preparing for what I've heard happens. I'm all for the good stuff, and I'm looking forward to it with the same kind of silly optimism you generally find in new parents. I'm also starting to get unreasonably emotional. I chuckled to myself when Alison told me how she started crying at some schaltzy thing on TV. Then I was watching LA Ink. A guy came in to get a portrait of his 10 month old daughter (the picture the tattoo was based on was, excuse my sappiness, freakin adorable) who had already survived a bout with cancer. I almost cried. If they hadn't cut to a suitably manly commercial when they did, there is a good chance I might have started squeezing out tears.

It's humbling to think that you are going to be the biggest influence in someone's life. It's transcendant to think that there is going to be this little person who is going to see you as the be all end all of their existence. Somebody once told me that they were trying to be as good a person as their dog thought they were. At the time it seemed like the be all end all philosophical musing on being a decent person. Now I imagine looking into my kid's eyes and even, now before the little monkey has shown up, I want to be the person that itty bitty little baby thinks I am.

At the very least I won't be the worst parent ever. Let's face it, a trip to any mall in America can do wonders for your confidence as a parent. There are people way dumber, way meaner, way more irresponsible than me out raising babies. So I got that going for me...which is nice.

And by the way, I can dance. I just don't drink enough anymore to make it seem like a good idea.

Deal, Let's Shake On It

Counting down, 32 days until D-day! I used to count by the number of weeks remaining because it was convenient, but as we move closer I have moved to days. Just over a month to go and we still have what seems to be a lot to do. Keith used his "skills" to put together the Pack-n-Play for our monkey (yes, he used the directions....phew!) and rearranged the bedroom furniture. With a 1BR apartment, we are trying to come up with creative ways to use the space; the dining room will be turned into the munckin's area with my desk in the corner. I am in search for a couple of area rugs for the living room and monkey's space; however, with two compact cars might pose a small problem for us to get them home - I suppose delivery is the next step. We are about halfway through packing the suitcase for the hospital, but should have everything done today. Thank goodness we are making progress.

As we progress towards baby's due date, Keith and I are getting extremely excited for his/her arrival. I have read numerous articles about the importance of reading to the little one and playing music while still in the womb. So, I have made an effort (okay, I just started this week) to play music as much as possible while I am at home especially when Keith is at the gym. We both agree that monkey needs Mom's rhythm because Dad is not so graceful on the dancefloor - point, clap, point, point, clap, clap, squat!



So, if you did not already know, Keith and I have decided that breastfeeding our little one is probably the best option for our family. From all of the books and online articles I have read, I will have the responsibility of waking up every 1.5-2 hrs to feed (I thought having to get up to pee every 3 hours was painful), eek! With Keith being such a team player and all, he has coined himself the "Permanent Diaper Changer." Yes, that's right you heard it here first - Keith will change our little monkey's stinky, raunchy, messy diapers. For those of you that know Keith, I will definitely take pictures of this momentous occasion because it's all about team work!

'Til next time everyone.

Getting Ready for The Day

We've started putting Alison's hospital bag together. We're six weeks or so away and so it seemed like that ought to be something of a priority at this point. Are we late? Should this have been done earlier? I'm not sure. What I do know is that a guy (me) trying to help a woman (Alison) shop does not always go well. This last time wasn't so bad. I managed to find a couple items that didn't make her scrunch up her face in horror. There have been times when, during the shopping process, I have brought something to her attention that provoked the same look a fresh pile of dog poo on the sidewalk would. Apparently my tastes in women's clothing aren't quite up to snuff. Which if you think about it, ought to be somewhat of a relief to my significant other. Does any woman want her partner to have better taste in women't clothing than she does?

But we managed to get almost everything we needed this weekend. The only two things left on the list are sour candy on stick, and of all things, Depends adult diapers. Apparently pregnancy is even messier than I have been led to believe, despite a number of quite horrifying videos we have sat through. Not that the wonder of childbirth is horrifying. It just looks painful, somewhat distressful, and not altogether dignified.

Which also makes me wonder exactly why people videotape these things. Don't get me wrong, I suppose I understand the impulse to get such a momentuous occasion preserved for posterity. but I wonder if the women are really all that eager to relive the experience (even if it is from a distance), if the kid ever really wants to see it (although I suppose it might be a good deterrent if I do have a daughter - 'See that? It's hard to go to prom when you're squeezing out a bowling ball'), and I'm not sure I'll want to have that kind of footage just laying around, you never know if you're going to mix it up with some other dvd and give yourself the shock of your life when you're trying to find that video of the dog doing that cute little trick with the frisbee.

Speaking of deterrents for my daughter, if that's what the little monkey turns out to be, I am going to have to admit that Maury Povich may have one redeeming value to society. The man is the most despicable misery pimp on TV. He uses people's failures and pain for profit, sort of like a politician, and I really hope his seat in hell is directly under Satan's outhouse. But around dating age, I'm going to sit the girl down and make her watch every clip I can get my hands on of these bimbos who show up, and despite a small fortune's worth of paternity tests on large numbers of men, cannot identify their baby's daddy - 'See that? Don't be a tramp!'

There are still days when I can't sleep, or just get really overwhelmed by the whole thing. Kids were not really on my radar before this happened. I mean, I always figured at some point they would come up in my life, I have had enough hints from the family about being the last male in the family who can carry the name on (including one very direct inquiry from my grandfather on my dad's side; not something to spring on a guy before his first cup of coffee, by the way). But when all this happened, I have to be straight with all of you, I was blindsided.

I'm glad it happened, having had time to reflect on things for a bit. It's helped focus me a bit more on my life, it's certainly helped me see things in a whole new light (I'm much more paranoid about things burning down, exploding, shocking, etc.). I think part of my avoidance of the subject was a conscious decision to avoid responsibility for as long as possible. It's been suggested I suffer from a bit of Peter Pan syndrome, and I wouldn't argue. But now that I've been given the opportunity to be a dad, I gotta tell you, I really, really feel lucky that I am where I am, and that I'm doing what I'm doing, especially with who I'm doing it with.

Oh and by the way, if any of you have any pull with my darling lady, would you please help explain to her that in NO WAY WHATSOEVER is Kenny G an appropriate soundtrack to which to bring a child into the world.

It's a Girl...I Think...

No, we haven't found out the sex of the baby. I'm just getting this feeling. If I believed in God that had the time or inclination to muck around in human affairs, I'd also have to concede that He had a sense of humor. Which is why I have no doubt he would give me a little girl, ya know, to keep me on my toes, and turn what little hair I had left into a shiny shade of gray (which is a pretty complicated way to say silver I suppose).

Part of it comes down to some dreams I had, I'll spare you all the messy details, but the short of it comes down to a complete loss of control and impending doom. The subconscious is working overtime. Not that I think having a daughter is a sign of losing control or impending doom. I just think it would be easier on my psyche to have a son. Because I know how boys are, after all, I used to be one.

We have finally finished all of our pre-birth educational classes. We've done Prepared Childbirth, Baby CPR, and Breastfeeding. As I had thought might happen, my view of boobies has been altered. Alison gave me the opportunity of not attending the class. Aside from the fact that I am, despite my trepidation about that particular class, interested in learning as much as I can before hand, I wouldn't have skipped it because a) I can guarantee that at some point it would pop up, probably to be used to illustrate some point about me not having done everything in my power to prepare for this, and b) as it turns out, Alison would have been one of the only ladies in the class without her significant other there, which I'm supposing also might have popped up in heated discussions as a point against me.

Now, let me put a disclaimer out there: I'm not saying my wonderful, hardworking, and endlessly patient lady is the type to hold a grudge, I'm just saying that at some point during labor, she might take fault with how I've approached things. I've heard it happens.

Something else we've been discussing is music vis-a-vis the baby. We've been woefully behind the curve in introducing our baby to music. But we're going to change that soon. One of the classes we took talked about how you should play music in utero and that when the baby pops out, they'll respond favorably to the music, giving you yet another tool to quiet a crying baby. While I know most people automatically think of the traditional lullabies, I'm going to take a different tack. I'll be playing Sinatra, Mel Torme, Dean Martin, the classic lounge singers. I'll feel much less silly singing Fly Me To The Moon than Hush Little Baby. Aside from saving me from having to bang my head against a wall to get Freres Jaques out of my head, I'm hoping it will give the kid a headstart on developing a certain sense of class and style. Ridiculous? Maybe. But how cool will it be if it works?

Holy Cow!

August 9, 2009 and I'm 33 weeks and 4 days. The baby is definitely growing fast, 1/2 lb each week for the remainder of the pregnancy - yikes! Over the last few weeks Keith and I have noticed that our monkey is getting stronger because the kicks and punches are starting to sting *ouch*. Tuesday, the doctor evaluated how the baby was doing which came in at 150 bpm and weighed in at 5lbs 1 oz. (Keith swears that when the little one makes its arrival, the baby will be 15lbs & 32 inches - LMAO!). The munchkin is still sitting pretty high in my belly, so when the little one stretches it's not the most comfortable feeling...a hard limb pushing against my ribs or right at the top of the fundus. At this point, I'm counting down the weeks until D-day.

Last Monday, we met with my OBGYN for our bi-weekly appointment. At my old doctor's office (in Seattle), the nurse would bring you to the back and immediately weigh you. It wasn't just an ordinary scale, OH NO, it was a gigantic one with a large digital reader board. How I used to pray that no other patients would walk by to see exactly how much I weighed. As for the practice in Dallas, I'm so grateful (I think) that each room has its own scale. With the pregnancy, I normally turn my head when the nurse slides the little mark farther and farther right. Ahh, yes she's so kind because she doesn't ever tell me the results! Ignorance is bliss, right? Well, I thought everything was peachy when the doctor came in to discuss the baby's growth and catch-up with us....all was well because it seemed as though she was going to let us go, but no. She glanced down at the chart and blurted out, "Well, as you know the baby is going to grow significantly over the next few weeks, so you must watch what you're eating. Let's see, you've gained...forty (blah) pounds!" Right then and there, I wanted to cry. If you know how important weight is to me, gaining as much weight as a big Costco size bag of rice is depressing. :( Oh well, I guess I'll just have to work twice/three times as hard to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight.

We recently finished our last class at Baylor, Breastfeeding. The room was packed with expectant parents, a few we recognized from the Labor and Delivery class that ended a couple of weeks ago. The nurse was full of good information: what it should feel like, renting or buying a pump, nursing bras, and a video from recent mothers who were breastfeeding. Sitting in a classroom for 2 1/2 hours after a long day of work does not seem to be a big deal, but being in the third trimester...I just wanted to put my head down on the table and snooze for a few minutes, okay maybe for an hour. Keith hadn't eaten anything before we went to class, so he ventured to the cafe to pick up a drink and snack. He bought Gatorade and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Now, up until this point a lot of pregnant women have complained about foods they cannot stand smelling, but I hadn't run into any food that made be gag. Let me tell you, Doritos are NOT my friend. I don't know what it was, but the smell of them were awful. I used to eat them and didn't mind the smell, but maybe I should keep a closepin in my purse - just in case.

We Have Contact....

To say that there aren't many asian people in Dallas is kind of like saying there aren't a lot of lions in Antartica. It is a usually automatic assumption. OK, to be fair there are some asian people. But sightings are few and far between. It is part of the reason I'm not necessarily jumping at the chance to raise our precious snowflake in Texas. I would consider myself remiss if our little Waysian Wonder© didn't have a proper asian culture oasis to indulge him/herself in.

There really isn't much like the International district in Seattle. Other towns may have bigger and/or more famous districts (NY, San Fran and Victoria BC's come to mind), but Seattle's International District is something special. Partly because of how compact it is considering how many ethnicities are a part of it, partly because it is quintessentially Seattle - a taste as near to the original as possible, under the circumstances.

And let's face it, when you can get dim sum at one of four or five places within three blocks of each other, you really do have it good. So finding some really good asian food in Dallas has been an ongoing, and sometimes disappointing, endevour. But we found dim sum. Good dim sum. Tasty dim sum. Very tasty dim sum. For a split second, I almost forgot I was in Dallas. There was a sea of asian folks, steamed hum bow, chicken feet (I passed), pork dumplings, spare ribs, steamed rice wrapped in tea leaves, octopus, fried shrimp with the heads still on, and ducks hanging in the kitchen.

Then of course we walked outside into a sunny day in the high 90's, got into a car with a black interior and sped down the very flat highway passing signs billboards for steak houses and air conditioning. But I digress...

The pregnancy is going swimmingly, unless you count the incessant kicking that my very patient lady love is enduring. She also pulled a back muscle the other night. Since it was caused by work her back is doing supporting our little monkey, and I am somewhat culpable of putting her in the position of being pregnant, I spent the day trying to somehow relieve her pains. Ultimately the solution was a combination of some cool science and good old fashioned know how from my mother, whose alter ego Dr. Band Aid has always has always had a suggestion for how to fix things. Dr. Band Aid is not always right, but she did take care of yours truly when I snapped my ankle in half. And brother, that goes a looooooong way in my book.

The science part consisted of Ben Gay adhesive patches, which seemed to do well for the most part, not too noticeable, but it made everything bearable. The motherly know how was a wet towel in a plastic bag, heated in the microwave, the end result being a nice heat pad.

Other than that stuff, the Dr.s say were doing well, the baby seems to be on a regular schedule of movement, and is definitely getting stronger. The kid's kicks and shrugs and stretching can be seen through Alison's shirt if you're sitting near her. It just elicits what seems like an irrationally happy reaction from me when I see it.

Baby classes are pretty much done, we have to do the breast feeding class, but it's only one night. They encourage the partner (a necessary term in an age where "husband" would seem presumptious, sexist, and probably indicative of republican leanings), to attend the breast feeding class. I'm approaching it with mixed emotions. On the one hand, it's a subject that involves two of my favorite things. On the other hand we're not talking the most elegant context, and really, do I want to go altering with my current frame of reference quite yet? The challenges facing a dad to be...

Other than that, the only other thing going on is that we've made the countdown list, the things we have to do before the rugrat actually shows up. We've gotten some done, but there is some heavy lifting and some major planning left to do. We will keep you updated as it comes.

Mmm, delicious Dim Sum

To the left you'll see the most recent sonogram picture of our monkey. What do you mean you can't tell what the picture is showing? HA HA, don't feel bad if you're looking at them a little confused...Keith and I were the same way as well. All I can say is, the little munchkin is giving us a "thumbs up" in the middle one. I guess he/she is doing pretty well in the oven. :)

The last doctor's appointment was uneventful which is a good thing. A couple of months ago, the doctor was concerned about the level of water in the kidneys (most babies have some water, but too much can be a concern). Safe to say the doctor advised us that the little one is doing great and falls within the normal range, so it should not be an issue. PHEW, another tiny scare avoided. We have two more appointments this week, one on Monday and another on Tuesday...a little tired of the amount of time spent in the waiting rooms, but I guess it's something we should get used to because we'll be seeing the OBGYN/Pediatrician frequently.

Onto another subject...FOOD! For those of you who know me, food hasn't always been a priority. I'm pretty easy going when it comes to what you put in-front of me; however, being pregnant has made food very important. After moving to Dallas, I realized that I took all of the good food that surrounded me in Seattle for granted. You never had to travel very far for great Indian, Thai, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, etc. Don't get me wrong, Dallas has wonderful steakhouses and Mexican food, but sometimes I crave Honey Walnut Prawns, Green Decadence Roll, Chicken Phad Thai, or Pho. My focus was to find a fantastic, delicious, tasty dim sum restaurant anywhere close to Dallas. Awhile back, a nice lady at one of the furniture shops gave us a list of her top restaurants and grocery stores in and around Dallas...and one of them was Kirin Court in Richardson (about 15-20 miles north of downtown). The last time Keith and I had dim sum was over a month ago, so we decided to head out and try this place. I was a little hesitant to say the least because the last two times we ventured out for Chinese food was disappointing, but maybe this would be a diamond in the rough. As soon as we arrived, I got really excited...I haven't seen that many Asian folks in Dallas EVER. We waited 10 minutes and got a seat - super fast! And oh my goodness, it was delicious and made us feel like we were at home (in Seattle). Now, I must find a good Vietnamese place with tasty Pho.

My food adventures continue....'til next time.

T3: Getting out of bed is a chore!

I am alive, I promise! Sorry that we have not been blogging over the last three weeks, life has been full of work, napping, cleaning, storing, and napping. Wow, so just hit the 32-week mark and things have been going pretty well. As you saw in the previous post, the baby is growing at a pretty fast rate. Supposedly, the baby will gain 1/2 pound every week from here until D-day (*smirk*)...gee, I can't wait to become a beached whale! During our 30 or 31-week appointment, the baby was estimated to be 3lbs 10oz. I can definitely tell that our little monkey is growing because the strength of the kicks are growing stronger everyday. Even though the novelty has worn off being able to feel the baby move, it's still an amazing process. Like my former boss said, it feels like you have "company" all of the time. :)

Things are starting to become more difficult as time passes, such as getting out of bed. I frequent the restroom in the office and at home which I've blazed a permanent trail; however, in the middle of the night when you are fast asleep and suddenly have the urge to pee...it's a process to get to the destination. I always feel like I can hold it for a little while longer, so I lay in bed hoping and praying that the baby will NOT move. I've been lucky here and there, but the little one tends to wiggle and it's a done deal. With the extra weight and additional pillows, it's definitely a chore!

Keith and I recently finished the Prepared Childbirth class at Baylor. We went every Monday night for four weeks from 7-9:30. Not only did we learn about labor and delivery, we had a chance to watch a C-section and V-back along with looking at an epidural kit (I think Keith's eyes bulged out of his head when he saw the catheter). I thought it was a great experience to learn about everything that happens leading up to the little one's arrival and meeting other couples that are in similar situations, so we could share ideas and talk about our experiences. Does the process scare me? HECK YEAH! But, after our monkey is placed in my arms...everything will seem like a distant memory.

After looking at all of the clothes we received at our showers in Seattle, Keith and I decided to go shopping at the Allen outlet mall (about 20-30 minutes north of DT Dallas). There were lots of stores to see, but the heat was beating down on us. I became a "grumpy-pants" with no food in the tummy, so Keith hauled me over to the food court to make the situation manageable. Then we headed to Carter's. We found the PERFECT outfit for the little one to come home in...you'll have to wait until we come home from the hospital to see it. I can't wait!!!

Thanks again to everyone for being patient, I promise to blog more often. 'Til next time, hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

Odds, Ends, and Doulas

To the right you can see what we've (mostly Alison) have been doing for the past month, you know, while we haven't been updating this here blog. We've been building a baby (like I said, mostly Alison). Apparently we put the battery in a little early, because the little rugrat has been kicking like Billy Blanks was doing a Tae Bo class in Alison's tummy.

Now, I think the kicking part is pretty cool. My little munchkin is raring to go and from what I've felt, is pretty strong and active. I think, however, that the novelty has worn off for the most part with my wonderful lady. The other night we spent the better part of an hour trying to get the little monkey to stop kicking so Alison could get to sleep. Suffice to say, it took a while, this whole thing is my fault, and for a little while, it was MY baby, not hers. Luckily I have plenty of practice taking the blame for things, thanks to my previous, less mature, slightly more chaotic life, so I am doing just fine with shouldering that blame.

It has been a pretty interesting month. We've been taking basic baby care classes (last class was last week) and I have to say, and I know I'm going to regret saying this later, that it just doesn't seem like things are going to be that bad. I mean, taking care of a baby is seems like it will be pretty straight forward. There aren't but a few things a baby really wants: sleep, food, clean drawers, and attention. Sounds about like what I was looking for when I met Alison, and look at me now.

Speaking of me, which we weren't really, but bear with me, I have stumbled across a theory I'm going to run by the lot of you reading this blog. The other day as we sat in the doctor's office (the weekly sonogram's take all of 5 minutes, while the wait time clocks in at at least triple that), Alison and I got into the reasons she still has to tell me things that she wants done, you know, rather than give some vague hint that maybe something needs to be done. I keep telling her it's just how guys are, she refuses to believe me, she wants a responsible man who knows to do all of these things she wants. I want a Unicorn that poops hundred dollar bills, and I'm willing to bet I get it before she finds a guy who doesn't need to be reminded to pick up his socks.

The theory goes something like this: Men date women, and get snared into long term relationships because they find a woman who will put up with them, occasionally let us fool around with them, and usually doesn't break our balls too much about the things we don't do. In other words, men date women because women let us. Women on the other hand, start dating a guy with diffenent intentions. They see a diamond in the rough. They don't date us for what we are when we meet them, but for the potential they see in us down the road. For example, I no longer wear clothing with pictures of scantily clad women on them. I generally don't miss the toilet anymore, or at least try really hard and make sure I clean up if I do. I know that dinner does not come from a microwave. I know that salad is not a dirty word. I've learned that most four letter words are not appropriate in the company of children (although you can be assured I plan on teaching my kid how to curse properly - with force, with purpose and with clear intent).

All of which is to say, that Alison has made some progress with me. Which is as it should be, but I don't think she's fully accepted that this will be a lifelong process, and that I will require training well into our golden years. This is how I know she loves me.

I ran this theory by the receptionist at the baby place we were at. She smiled but refrained from saying anything. This is how I know I'm right.

Aside from all of the other stuff we're debating at this point - where to put the baby when we bring the munchkin home, whether or not I'm allowed to dress the baby in an LA Lakers onsie, how much trouble I'll be in if the kid's first words are say, 'assclown', for example - the other idea that Alison has been floating is the hiring of a doula. For those of you who don't know, a doula is basically a midwife type of lady. She helps with the birth, provides moral support, holds hands, etc. I know, I know, I thought it was my job too. However Alison, despite no previous examples with which to back this particular idea up, has it in her head somewhere that I'm going to throw my hands up in frustration and be done with the whole thing mid-way through labor. Thus the idea that she needs a doula to pick up the slack.

In my defense I would like to say that I have never thrown my hands up in exasperation and walked off despite a number of occasions where the man-gods would have given me a pass. I have in fact proven to be pretty reliable. On the other hand, if the insurance will pay for it, I can't think of reason not to have a doula there. Better to have and not need, rather than need and not have.

'til next time...vaya con dios friends, we'll have more for you on Sunday, when - I promise - both Alison and I will be back writing again.

Cotton Bowl, Inappropriate Places to Fart, & 3 Squares of TP

I hope everyone had a fantastic 4th of July! Our first Independence Day in TX turned out pretty well. Keith and I spent the first part of the day relaxing at the house and watched Gran Torino - a fantastic movie, by the way. Since it was our first year in Dallas, we decided to venture out to a local fireworks display. A co-worker mentioned a good display at Fair Park, the same location where the famous Texas State Fair is held and right outside the Cotton Bowl. We finally found parking 20 minutes after we arrived and walked to the grounds; it had been in the triple digits and kind of humid (yuck!), but I was smart and wore comfortable shoes. Oh my goodness, there were thousands of people! We were a little unprepared because others brought blankets, lounging chairs, and coolers...we had nothing, but a few dollars to quench our thirsty mouths. Overall, the fireworks display was pretty good, but what made it an awesome event were all of the little kids around us in unison saying, "oooh" and "aww" each time a cool firework went off. :) I can't wait for our little monkey to celebrate 4th of July with us, sparklers and fireworks OH MY!

With pregnancy comes the wonderful bodily function of increased flatulence. As the baby continues to grow, it squashes all of my internal organs out of the way! Just like having to rush to the restroom to pee every twenty minutes, farts tend to surface immediately at the most unexpected times. As for me, it is always when there is a large group of people close by or when I am in an enclosed area (i.e. the car - sorry Keith, LOL!). Lately, Keith seems to be having the same symptoms as I and farts in the most inappropriate places. For example, we were in Wal-Mart the other day grocery shopping, mind you it was five or six o'clock at night so the store was not empty. We were walking through the aisle, he stopped so I stopped and then he briskly walked away with the cart mumbling under his breath, "I just dropped a$$!" Too bad I had to look for snacks in that exact location. :( Or today, while we were waiting for the nurse to call us into the doctor's office, Keith was lounging in the chair and toots right in the waiting room with a couple sitting right across the way from us. AWESOME! Do males automatically pick-up similar symptoms that their pregnant woman has to deal with?

We finally made it to the third trimester of the pregnancy, WOO HOO! Keith has been fantastic throughout the last six months: waking up early in the morning to drive me to work and always picks me up at the end of the day, he cooks awesome dinners, and even cleans the dishes and picks-up around the house - I cannot complain too much because he is a fantastic partner and I love him very much. However, I'm not sure if it's out of laziness or if he really doesn't notice, but Keith always leaves me with the last three squares of toilet paper on the roll! C'mon, really?!

A Recalculation, and Another List

Ok, so when I calculated that we'd have to deal with 90 lbs. of baby poo in the first 6 months, I goofed the the numbers. My inability to deal with numbers in a consistent fashion is the reason Alison and I have a division of labor around the house: she deals with finances, I kill spiders.

It turns out the actual number is quite a bit bigger. I originally said that at 8 ozs. per load of baby poo, times the number of months (6), times the number of days in a month (avg. 30) and I ended up with 90 lbs. of poo. What I didn't include were the multiple loads of baby poo one has to deal with each day. So, if we figure the average number of diapers per day is 12, then we figure that not all of those diapers will be of the poo variety, we'll say about 3/4 of them (based on the number of feedings - one book gives a 1:1 ratio between the number of feedings and the number of poos, and we'll say the baby eats every 2-3 hours which puts us at say, 9 feedings) what we really end up with is 810 lbs. of poo in 6 months. That makes it about the size of your average high school varsity basketball team. Good grief.

Last night I wrote about some of the larger, in metaphysical terms, things I want to teach our little monkey (monkey sounds better than 'it', and since we don't know the sex, I'll stick with monkey for now). Today Alison and I were talking and I realized that there are a number of more specific things I want to teach the kid:

- farting in public is perfectly acceptable as long as you claim it proudly.

- You don't get better practicing something with someone who is worse than you. Always try to find someone to learn from.

- the best cure for a hangover is not to get one in the first place. And if your dad catches you drinking on a Friday night, you can be pretty sure you'll be mowing the lawn at sunrise the next day.

- That nerdy kid getting picked on in gym class has a good chance of being your boss one day. Be nice to everyone.

- "Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me," is crap. Words hurt. And there are instances when some name callers deserve a swift kick in the delicates.

- If you aren't within driving distance of the ocean, be careful ordering seafood. Especially deep fried crabcakes at a gas station.

- Love can be the greatest thing on earth, or the most painful. Be careful getting into it.

- If it's spicy and it burns going down, odds are it won't feel so great coming out.

- The race doesn't always go to the fastest, nor the fight to the strongest, but that is the way to bet.

- Drugs are bad, m'kay!?!?!

- Nickelback always has, and always will be, a second rate ripoff of Bush, who were never much more than a third rate ripoff of Nirvana.

- Barney must die.

- Never go all in with middle pair, unless you know the other guy can be bluffed. And even then, it ain't a good idea.

- Never wear brown shoes with black pants.

- Paris Hilton is not a role model. Unless by role model you mean talentless harlot.

- if the choice must be made, being a smartass is much better than being a dumbass.

- The Lakers are the greatest team in NBA history. While the kid will most likely never live in L.A., it is totally acceptable for our child to be a Lakers fan, for the same reason it's OK for me to be a Lakers fan - hereditary. My dad, who is from the L.A. area, raised me as one, so I get to pass it on my kid. (I can't say the same about the Yankees, as the biggest reason I liked them is that it is easy to get Mariners fans to make irrational bets based on sheer hatred of the Yankees, rather than any serious ties I have to the New York area.)

- Never point a loaded gun at anyone; and the collary to this: never point an unloaded gun at someone.

I'm sure I'll think of more...

Oh Crap, I'm Having a Baby...

I mean the 'crap' part literally. The headline for this blog isn't me freaking out and finally realizing that my life now belongs to someone who can't even form the requisite intent to run my life (not that many people would argue that I'm capable of that either). What it does refer to is the sheer number of diapers I've calculated we're going to go through the first six months: 2160.

Between books and classes we've come to an average of 12 diapers per day. Multiply that by 30 days in a month and then six months, and we're talking enough diapers to pad a fall from a ten story building. Maybe. But you get the point.

Now, if we're talking volume, let's assume that your average baby load will be about 8 ounces (about half a pop can's worth - which may be high or low, I don't know, and apparently it is the one thing you can't find on the internet. I'm just working off a best guess). Using the same math as above, we will be looking at 90 pounds of poop in the first six months. 90 pounds. There are sorority girls that don't weigh that much.

That is a lot of stinky poo myself and Alison will be responsible for wiping, washing, rinsing, and otherwise collecting and disposing of.

If you're wondering why this is so fascinating to me - other than that anything involving poop is funny to guys - it's that as things stand, I'll be the one responsible for most of it. Given the job situation I'm in, the economy will literally be sh***ing on me.

I suppose what brought on this sudden realization is that we are getting to organizing the vast amount of stuff we got from our friends and family (thank you all again, really...your support in this has been amazing). After the last package showed up, I realized the kid - who won't even show up to this party for another three months - has more stuff in this apartment than I do.

We made the trip to Ikea and picked up a new dresser to hold all of it this weekend. I'm amazed at how efficient those Scandanavians are when it comes to designing furniture that an organgutan could assemble if it were so inclined. Say what you will about the sometimes dubious quality of Ikea's furniture, if I can go from a box full of parts to a working dresser in two hours, you are doing something right. I can only hope the stroller, crib, pack-n-play, swing, baby bather and whatever else is in that pile come together as easily.

Something else that popped up this weekend was what exactly Alison and I consider the most important things to teach our child. Not the low level mechanical stuff like tying a shoe, using the toilet, not wearing underwear on their head, etc., but the more important stuff.

For me the some of most important break down something like this:

You Are Lucky! - by which I mean that no matter how bad you think you're life is, it ain't that bad. The day before I graduated college, I woke up in a cold sweat, freaking out about what was soon to be the rest of my life. I called my dad, who gave me one of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten. it roughly broke down to 'if nobody is shooting at you, it's not that serious'. My dad has spent various parts of his life being shot at, in the jungles of south east Asia and the deserts of the Middle East, so he does have a frame of reference. I want to give my kid a chance to travel, and not just to the pretty places in the magazines, but to the butt cracks of the world, so that he/she understands that life, for a lot of people, really does suck. And not in a I-didn't-get-a-pony-for-my-birthday-I-hate-everybody kind of way. I mean in a five-people-living-in-a-shack-made-of-corrugated-aluminum-and-sharing-one-water-spigot-between-five-other-families kind of way.

Don't Be Scared of Failure. - I think a lot of people, including myself sometimes, forget that for every game-winning shot that Michael Jordan hit, there were a dozen or so he didn't. Nobody ever accomplished something worth accomplishing without a lot of stumbles, some falls and the occasional catastrophic mistake. And it really isn't about how many times you've been knocked down, it's about how many times you get up, dust yourself off and try again. As long as you're always +1 on the getting up side, it's all good.

Nothing Beats Hard Work. - There are a number of marginally talented people out there who are massively successful. We all have friends (you, or I, might even be that friend) who constantly bitch about some famous artist/musician/businessperson who really doesn't deserve the amount of success they have based on the talent or aptitude they display in public. And if it were based solely on talent, those people would be right. But I guarantee you in most of those cases if you looked at how much work those semi-talented people put behind their marginal gifts, you'd find that they have flat out, outworked everybody else.

Till next time...

Flip Flops, Seattle & Wang-Dang Doodle

A size 8...how did my feet get so big? Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration, but flip flops are definitely my friend. 101 and 103 degree days are not what a six/seven month pregnant lady thinks is comfortable by any means. Yes, that's how hot it's been in Dallas for the last seven days! A/C is a staple in every home and OH, I am extremely grateful. From what my co-workers have told me, this is only the beginning - July and August are higher three digit temperatures, YIKES! Talk about timing, we pick the hottest months to be super preggers. :) I am bubbling inside, literally! Keith says he loves the warm weather, but when it only drops to 85 or 90 degrees at 11:30pm...that's ridiculous. C'mon down to "Tejas" and join us in the fun.

After a week of being back in Dallas, Keith and I reflect on our trip "home." It was fantastic to return to Seattle for eight days to see family and friends, not to mention the great weather. We are extremely grateful for such a fantastic support system, thank you to everyone for coming out and wishing us well on the next chapter of our lives. The friends baby shower was fantastic, I cannot say enough "thanks" to Crystal, Vanessa, and Melanie for organizing, cooking, decorating, and hosting the celebration. The presents were plentiful, but we were more excited to see everyone's smiling faces. My sisters, Pam & Ellie, put together an all-girls baby shower that was a huge success...Keith's mom, Jan, was able to meet my aunts and cousins. Thank you for making it such a great event! As for our families, we had a yummy Red Robin lunch together and dessert that allowed everyone to get to know each other. The time flew by and before we knew it, it was time to pack-up and fly back to Dallas. After our little monkey is born, we hope to return to Seattle in December for Christmas and New Years.

Our monkey is doing well. We've had two ultrasounds since returning from Seattle and the doctor estimates the little one at 2lbs 10oz with a heartbeat of 141 bpm (which is normal). Yesterday, as we were watching the doctor examine the baby...the munchkin was moving his/her mouth (I think the baby was trying to tell us a secret!). We were able to see the full body of the baby and as our monkey grows, the living quarters are definitely getting smaller and smaller; I guess that is one of the reasons the baby's movements are frequently felt. We are sticking with the idea of not knowing the gender of the baby, but I think Keith has his mind set. After the appointment, he looked me in the eyes and said, "I think I saw the baby's wang-dang doodle!" Hmm, should I bet on that? (And as most of you know, Keith has an awful betting record against me.) The thought definitely crossed my mind, but my heart tells me that I just want a healthy little one.

As we prepare for the arrival of the newest member of the family, we want to say "thank you" to everyone who has been there for us. Being in a city with no family or close friends has been challenging, but we're making the best out of the situation. We miss everyone and hope to see you again.

Baby Showers and a New Game: Fat or Pregnant

Back from the Pacific Northwest, back in the lovely metropolitan setting they refer to as Dallas. People you have no idea how much you'll miss the simple things like trees, hills and water, until you are somewhere that doesn't have any of them. Well, there are trees here, but let's face it, it ain't Seattle. I got ridiculously spoiled living downtown next to Pike Place Market. The local version of Safeway (called Tom Thumb, but with all the Kirkland Signature items and Safeway branded items) can't compete.

Dear Lord, dear Lord, dear Lord. We decided to have a co-ed baby shower. Partly because of the more loot factor, mostly because it was a good excuse to see all of my friends and have a good time. That may not have been the best idea...more on that later. The cries to the Baby Jeebus above are in reference to what you women go through preparing for these events.

Vanessa made what is referred to as a Diaper Cake in shower parlance. This consists of a - pardon the pun - sh#t-ton of diapers which have been individually rolled, and then packed together on their ends in a circular shape, on top of which there are additional layers, decreasing in size to give it that cake effect. The sheer amount of time spent first putting the cake together, and then spent unrolling each of the diapers and removing the rubberbands and repacking the diapers in a bag, is mind-boggling. I have trouble finishing the dishes sometimes, and there are only two of us.

All in all it was a pretty successful night. Most everyone we wanted to see showed up, we got a ton of cool stuff (Thank you everybody, you all rock), and the food was tasty. The only mildly unsuccessful part of the night was mostly my fault. Well...entirely my fault since it inovolved people I invited. To be fair, I had been told prior to this here baby shower that there would be booze, poker, and possibly a PPV fight on the TV.

So to get those amongst my friends who might not ordinarily intereseted in kiddy stuff to come, I may have played up the poker/booze/violence thing a little bit. Since most of my friends went to Wazzu, you can imagine how it turned out. I won't get into the gory details, but suffice to say that I, along with Kevin - who along with fiancee Crystal were kind enough to host the event - recieved tongue lashings at the end of the night for turning the girls' carefully planned Baby Shower into something resembling a bachelor party (minus the strippers) by the end of the night. Go Cougs.

I now understand why these events are, for the most part, for women only. Or at least responsible people only.

As some of you may know from reading this blog, or talking to Alison, her weight has been on her mind. She is constantly afraid that she looks huge. I have been telling her that she isn't fat, she's just pregnant, it happens. Her concern is that people will just think she's big, not pregnant. To ease this concern I have been trying to explain to her the difference between fat ladies and pregnant ladies.

A preggo stomach looks quite different than a chubby one. There's a certain roundness to it you don't see with fat. Whereas with a preggo tummy, the muscles themselves are stretched and still maintain tone and presence, a chubby tummy just has the jiggle. I know this because while Alison is preggo, I have quite a nice little gut myself, so I do have a frame of reference for all of this.

Anyway, we're sitting in the Cheesecake Factory this evening and Alison asked me if the larger woman who had just made her way past our table was fat or pregnant. I said fat. Then a pregnant girl walked by and I tried to point out the difference to her. I have a feeling we'll be playing this little game quite a bit as the months go on.

On the doctor front we had our first appointment with the new doctor today. It wasn't what I would call a stunning success. Because:

a) Alison had to have a fetal diabetes test, meaning she couldn't eat or drink anything for two hours before the test. Result: slightly tired and thristy pregnant woman.

b) Almost as soon as Alison did drink the bottle of medicated fruit punch they needed her to drink for the test, her now tiny bladder decided she needed to go.

c) A water main outside the doctor's office broke, flooding the street, throwing the scheduling out of wack as doctors canceled appointments and had to reschedule, and cutting the water supply to the doctor's office: no working toilets.

d) Our new doctor - who I am sure is very good at her job, and comes with sterling recommendations from our old doctor - is waaaaay too chipper, chatty and bubbly. Dr. Bakos was no-nonsense, to the point and straightforward. She reminded me of a stern but friendly high school teacher. Dr. Martin reminds me of a real estate agent trying to sell me a house.

All in all, not spectacular.

Thinking About Fatherhood...

Increasingly I find myself thinking about what kind of Dad I'm going to be. Given some of the winners out there, I'm guessing I won't be the worst dad ever. I won't A) be selling my baby for crack, B) get arrested for beating up any little league coaches, C) take the kid with me to the bar to blow into my court ordered breathalyzer ignition lock, or D) be Alec Baldwin.

Bill Murray said it best in Caddyshack - "So I got that goin' for me."

Another thing I've got going for me is that I have been lucky enough to have been raised by a couple of terrific people. Not to say I'm not going to make some adjustments. My dad's closet circa 1989, was full of clothes that might have been slick in 1975. To be fair, most of it came back in style, but on the other hand, it's not like he had any idea that would happen, or would have cared had he known.

If it was physically possible my dad showed up to all my wrestling matches, even if he didn't have time to change from his fatigues to street clothes (he frickin' hated being out in public in fatigues). But he was there.

My mom on the other had is one of the strongest people I know, and she has over the years taught herself caligraphy, started her own business as an artist, gotten her paralegal certification and more recently decided that getting her Masters in foreign languages was the only thing consuming enough to take her mind off the fact that she is living in Kansas.

But more importantly my parents both tried to do the right thing, and I know that the examples they provided me are a big part of the reason I've survived my own stubborn-headed, self destructive, sometimes immoral, most times offensive, bouts with stupidity. Given how many of those I had and how long they lasted, I marvel that they managed to survive. And assuming whatever god may or may not be out there has a sense of humor, I can only imagine what I have to look forward to.

I am going to do my damndest to make sure my kid has the same advantages I did in when it comes to parents. They'll know that I love them and support them in what they do. They'll know that even when daddy has grown up responsibilities to take care of he'll be there when it matters.

They'll know that part of a happy fulfilling life is the continual push to better yourself, to keep learning, to never stagnate or get so comfortable - or busy - with life that they stop experiencing new things or stop learning more.

The Summer is Creeping Up On Us

Whoo Hooooo! June has hit Texas.  It's hot.  Really hot.  I dig it.  I imagine when it really heats up, Alison will not be so fond of it.  Luckily air conditioning seems to be standard down here, so I'll think we'll survive.  

Things are going smoothly enough with the pregnancy.  The biggest thing for me is that lately I can feel the baby kicking pretty much every day.  May not seem like a big deal to some folks, but I spent a couple weeks desperately sprinting to Alison every time she said the kid was kicking, and most times...nothing for me.  So now I get to feel it kick.  I gotta say, it is really weird to think that there is a little person doing flailing around in there.  One that I'm going to be responsible for taking care of and feeding and whatnot. 

We'll be heading back to Seattle for the baby shower here in about a week.  The other big event is the familial meet-n-greet we'll be doing.  Seeing as how our families have never met, it seemed like a good idea to arrange that sometime before the little rugrat actually shows up.  My folks (hopefully both of them, but definitely my mom) will be there and since Alison's family all lives there, it should be a good time.

We've had to postpone a couple of baby related classes for this trip, but we should be able to fit everything in.  So far it's been pretty basic stuff.  And no matter how intimidating it gets, I have pretty sure-fire way of relaxing myself about the upcoming responsibility dump:  I just go out and about in public and I'm guaranteed to see at least on person who has no business whatsoever raising a single child, let alone the four or five they do have, and I realize that I can probably do better than that.  

I have been thinking a lot about what kind of parent I want to be.  In particular the issue of how protective I'm going to be when it comes to "dangerous" stuff.  I've pretty much settled on the following, using riding a bike as a good metaphor.  While I'm certainly going to have the kid wear a helmet when they ride their bike, I'm not too concerned with knee or elbow pads.  A couple skinned knees generally speeds up the learning curve.  Maybe that's just because I always learned better from example than someone telling me.  Stubborness I suppose, but I haven't turned out too bad, so it can't be too bad for the kid either.  I also figure Alison will most likely compensate for any of my egregious oversights.  We work well together that way.

As some of you know, and some may not, Ms. Alison has recently finished up all her classwork for her finance degree.  She is awesome.  And I don't mean that in the "oh dude that was an awesome hot dog, it had cream cheese and everything" kind of way.  I mean that in a "oh my God, that chick went to school while working full time and being pregnant and got her degree" kind of way.  To celebrate that awesomeness, I was going to have a really cool, really big, really nifty cake made for her, the kind of thing you see on the Food Network, or Ace of Cakes.  The plan hit a snag however, because in addition to really cool, really big, and really nifty, the thing would have been really expensive.  Like, vacation expensive.  Now, was all set to make it happen by hook or by crook.  However, some of her friends, ones with way more common sense than yours truly, pointed out that Ms. Alison might take issue with me spending that much money on a cake.  I was all set to disagree, until I remembered that I talked her out of a new couch last week.  The cake would have cost as much as the couch, and I was suddenly struck with a blinding flash of truth:  she was pretty unhappy when I made my point about the couch (mind you we have a perfectly good one already), and if I went and spent her couch money on a cake that would have been devoured in the span of a couple hours, she  might not take it as well as I might hope, no matter how cool the cake was.  So no cake.  Yet.

C'est la vie.

till next time...

Heartburn, gas, & swelling feet...OH MY!

With all of the books and online websites I've read, I haven't experienced any of the bad symptoms...until now - YIKES! I'm not sure if you've ever experienced heartburn before, but if you have I am terribly sorry. For those of you who haven't, you should feel elated and very lucky as I used to be one of you. I decided that I was not going to be in the majority (they say 80% of pregnant women experience heartburn), I would fall within the 20% minority. Defined as, "a painful and burning sensation in your esophagus" - a symptom of pregnancy indeed. I have a strong liking to citrus fruits and fruity beverages, but it's not such a good choice when the baby is growing and consuming a lot of space - not much room for the stomach to expand. :( The pain often rises from my chest to the neck and throat. So I bought a large bottle of extra strength TUMS smoothies (they taste pretty good) and they relieve the pain for 1-3 seconds, but the problem returns. This sucks! I'm sticking to spinach leaves and corn for the rest of my pregnancy.

As for gas, I did not realize that flatulence was such an issue until this week. When you have to "toot," there's no getting around it. As for those that know me (excluding Keith), I would rather hold it in, especially in the office, until I can make it to the bathroom. I was talking to a client on the phone and suddenly had the urge, but I kindly waited for five extra LONG minutes until the call was over. I stood up and quickly walked to the restroom, opened the door...ahh, I'm there, AND, someone was already in the bathroom. I just could not let it out while a stranger was in the stall next to me. When you're pregnant, farting seems 100 times worse, so I wish there was something that I could do to make it stop. Any suggestions?

I heard it's been very nice in Seattle, but down in Dallas it has been hot and humid. And, you know what that means...swollen feet! My feet grow from a size 6 in the morning and become a size 6.5 by the evening news. Not only do I need to concentrate on buying clothes, but I guess shoes are in order. Maybe I'll go for the "extra wide" selection.

Our little monkey's in there!

A lazy Sunday...

Last Thursday, Keith and I went to another doctor's appointment. We were supposed to meet the new OB-GYN, but she was not available - Dr. Martin. Our first meeting will be in three weeks for a scheduled glucose test...yummy. We heard the baby's heartbeat, which the RN said sounded good and Dr. Bakos said the baby was doing well. What would life be without more appointments? We have another one scheduled this Wednesday with Dr. McGhee at the Fetal Care Center. Maybe we'll get a few more pictures of the little one. :)

Keith has been a fantastic partner; not only does he cook me dinner, but he also makes me snacks when I get home from the office (because he knows I'm ALWAYS hungry when I walk in the door). I know that I can be very sensitive at times, but Keith is the voice of reason. I'm very grateful that he moved all of the way to Dallas just to endure the pain!

Since we've decided not to find out the sex of the baby, we refer to it as "our little monkey." Over the last few weeks, the little ones' movements have been more intense. Every once in awhile Keith puts his hands on my belly and can feel the kicks and squirms - he laughs and smiles everytime it happens - it's really cute. Before I fall asleep at night, I always lay my hands on my stomach...it's like clockwork, the baby seems to know when I'm ready to go to sleep because somersaults and karate kicks are in-order. I still get goosebumps thinking that our little one will be here sooner than we know it.

As for sports, Keith and I have been watching the NBA playoffs. Sad, sad that LeBron and the Cavs lost to the Magic. However, Keith is determined to make our little monkey into a Lakers fan. He rubs my belly and tells the baby, "You're going to be the greatest Lakers fan because they're the best team in the NBA!" Too bad, but Keith doesn't know that the baby is secretly rooting for the Magic...our monkey is mommy's favorite!

Baby Bump at 22 Weeks & Other Random Stuff

To the left you can see my baby's baby bump.  She's not all that happy about the shape her body is assuming.  I however, am excited.  

You may also notice a strange picture in the bottom right of the picture.  MSNBC was doing one of their prison documentaries when I took this picture.  What you see there is an x-ray of a prison inmate at about waist level.  The solid white object at the edge of the frame is the homemade shank he has shoved in a place we will not name.  I have impeccable timing.

I'm going to guess that it's normal for expectant parents to imagine all of the incredibly important, grand and historic things their child is going to accomplish: first astronaut to walk on the moon without a space suit, using nothing but the power of awesome to sustain them;  first person to summit Everest dressed in formal wear, using only a walking stick and a pair of good sunglasses; President of the World, a role reluctantly accepted after a massive public outcry that only Max/Kaylee could be as awesome as was needed to save the world; winner of the Nobel Prize in Physics, Literature, Chemistry, and Medicine (simultaneously); inventor of whatever it is that ends world hunger; destroyer of hippies....just off the top of my head.

Of course the reality is that I don't care what the kid does as long as he/she is happy and healthy and roots for the Lakers.   

We haven't had a doctor's visit in a couple weeks.  We're getting to month six, at which point we'll be having a sonogram every week until the birth, just to keep an eye on things.  The amniocentisis results came back fine, so at this point it is just the doctors wanting to keep an eye on things, not an active search for something they think is there.

Overall things are going smoothly, Alison is still handling this whole thing very well, and other than a certain amount of indecisiveness about exactly what it is that she wants to eat at any given time, there really hasn't been any of the really tough stuff that I've heard about.   

We went walking around the 'we poop more money than you make' section of Dallas today.  Houses with columns and wrought iron gates, and stone lions outside the doorways.  It was a gorgeous day and I have to say, it's not quite Seattle on the first sunny day of Spring, but it was pretty sweet.

'Til next time...

Baby Classes Round 1

Well, tonight was the first night of baby classes.  There are about a half dozen of these we'll be doing over the next four months.  This one was Basic Baby Care.  Call it ground zero.  This is for people whose only experience with children consists of wishing the crying baby's parents would remove them from the restaurant.  I will soon be on the other end of it I suppose.

At any rate it was quite informative.  Here are some of the things we learned:

Newborn babies' poop doesn't smell for the first couple weeks.  I like this.  At least they ease you into it.

There is actually a medically accepted way to carry the baby that resembles carrying a football.  The baby is face down on you forearm, head in hand. They actually referred to it as the football carry, or football position.  I guarantee that at some point in the first four months there will be a picture of me holding the baby in this position, giving stiff arm in perfect Heisman form.

According to our class, between 99 and 100 degrees is how hot you want the water you are using to clean you baby.  Nice to know there's some wiggle room on that.

I can expect to deal with between eight and 14 diapers of poop per day, some of it runny, some of it semi runny.  I suppose that will give me some idea what it is like to be A-Rod's PR guy.

It is, apparently, a universal truth that if you have a baby boy, you can expect to recieve a faceful of tinkle on a fairly regular basis if you aren't careful when you're changing them.  You aren't entirely safe with a baby girl either.

The secret to calming a crying screaming baby is not, as it turns out, bourbon in the bottle.  The most current craze is "The Happiest Baby on the Block".  I don't remember the guy's name right now, but he was about what one expects a baby specialist to be, really nice, kinda hippy-ish, and truthfully kinda creepy on camera.  His method however - the five S's: Swaddle, lay on the Side, Shhhhhhh, Swing, and Sucking (a pacifier, for the kid) - looks like it may be a godsend.

So all in all it was pretty informative.  This whole thing is looking like it may be difficult and frustrating, but I can only think none of that will matter when that little baby looks up at me and smiles.  I'm a pretty lucky guy. 

If someone ever comes to you and says "Hey, I've got a million dollars and I want you to start a business," you should immediately go into something involving babies (other than making them, I guarantee your money will be gone in a flash).  I mention this only because Alison and I went and did a baby registry at Babies 'R Us today.  Now, I'm normally not such a practical man when it comes to money.  I've always been of the opinion that it comes and goes (Alison's reaction to this attitude is something that anyone who knows her can imagine), and after it comes and goes, it will come and go again.  Not the healthiest attitude to have, but I am what I am.  I've been trying hard to change this over the past four months or so.  Knowing that soon you'll be buying new clothes every couple weeks and paying for the down payment on your Dr.'s new vacation home will do that to you.  

However all of that went right out the window as soon as we walked into Babies 'R Us.  Our apartment down here is a three room deal: bathroom, bedroom, and  everything else.  The baby monitor I was looking at had the thing that you put with the baby, two monitors, and a video screen.  The crib I was looking at was this enormous hardwood dealie that looked like it would take Paul Bunyon a year to work through. 

They give you a little registry gun, that looks a lot like a Star Trek phaser, to zap your chosen items with.  You would have thought I was at the shootout at the OK Corral the way I was whipping that thing at every bar code I saw.  And to be fair, I was having fun with it.  

Safe to say we have some editing to do on said registry.

The other thing that happened at Babies 'R Us was that I almost broke down and agreed to find out the sex of the baby early, if only for planning purposes.  I'm not saying she was frustrated with me, what with her being a planner and all.  She says it was because I have it set in my head that we're having a boy and I seemed to be picking a large number of blue things.  That is of course probably true.  But I think it's an instinctual male habit, some primal desire to see the genes and name passed on.  I have no doubts though, that if we do have a girl, I will be putty in her little palm, and react with a fair amount of chest thumping and goo-goo eyed jabbering at the sight of my little princess.  Even right now, four months from the event of the birth, were I to have a girl, I'm having a hard time coming up with a reason I shouldn't get her a pony if she were to ask.  It would fit on our porch, and it could probably help with a fair amount of landscape maintenance, what with the grazing and all.

Healthy and Happy is all I'm really asking.

Now, some of you may not find this to be funny.  I do.  In a 5th grade kind of way.  Alison has, as she mentioned in her post, sprung a couple leaks.  Don't ask me why I find this amusing.  I couldn't give you an answer that made me sound even halfway intelligent.  All I know is that Alison is handling all the indignities of pregnancy with far more grace than I could were the situations reversed.  She is, as always, a trooper.

This might have been mentioned earlier, but our current Doc is moving to a different job.  We have one more appointment with her before we start with our new Dr., and though we don't know exactly who it will be, it will be one of the current Doc's partners in the practice, so we're pretty confident things will be fine.

Until next time....

Moodswings, dreams and leaky nipples

Goodness, pregnancy comes with so many exciting adventures...that no one seemed to ever explain. I guess if you haven't gone through pregnancy, this is just fair warning, but if you have then you'll understand completely.

Keith has been a fantastic partner over the last three years, especially during the last 6 months because I've noticed my moods can change in a blink of an eye (okay, for those of you that know me...it's worse than normal). As we have been trying to configure our 1BR/1BA apartment to accommodate two adults and one munchkin, it's been challenging to say the least. I asked Keith to help me measure and lay out the furniture so that we could fit snuggly in the "little box" (aka. the bedroom). A little misunderstanding and BOOM, I was frustrated and burying my head in the duvet ready to cry! Luckily, I did not. However, afterwards I realized how insane he must think I am because I can go from happy to sad/mad in seconds. I'm so lucky to have a patient man by my side. I love you, Mr. Ancker!

Dreams: Before I was pregnant, I rarely had dreams - at least ones that I could remember. However, lately I seem to have ones that have to do with the baby and family of sorts. Keith was home taking care of the baby and I was leaving the office. As I walked through the door, I went to give our baby a hug and kiss and noticed he/she was wearing the exact same outfit the day before. I must've had a look on my face because before any words could come out of my mouth Keith replied, "I did the smell test and the clothes smelled fine!" Hmm, I never knew about the smell test until Keith and I moved in.

Leaky nipples: Sorry guys, but I have to talk about my incident last Friday. So, I bought a new bra because none of my other ones fit. It's extremely comfortable, but it's a maternity/nursing bra. Before I went to work, I noticed that my shirt did not look right so I decided to tape my nipples with bandaids. Great idea, or at least I thought. Things seemed fine until I got home to rip them off and in the meantime, I pulled a generous portion of skin -- EEK! I also did not realize that the wonderful idea I had initiated my nipples to leak, gross. :( I don't know if this is normal, but I had to invest in disposable breast pads to combat my problem.

Doctors and Doctors and Shopping

Another visit to the Dr.'s yesterday.  Everything is going fine after the amniocentesis, the aftermath was more trouble than the actual procedure.  The doc ordered Alison to take a couple days of bed rest, and I had to try to keep her off her feet.  You all know that my darling girlfriend is so willing to just sit back and let someone take care of her, that it was a breeze for me.  

Yesterday's appointment was just a followup for the amnio, we went in sat down for our 2:30 appt. and waited.  And waited.  I literally saw a half dozen women come in and leave while we sat there.  Me, being the patient and laid back half of the super duo, was starting to tap my foot at about 120 bpm, while Alison looked over with an exasperated expression at my inability to relax.  Then she looked in her wallet at the appointment card and realized our appointment wasn't until 3:20.  But, I am gaining enlightenment day by day, and instead of looking at it as having gotten there way to early, I think of it as hey, we got out of there early.

The appointment itself was fine.  The did a what I'm going to refer to as an audio sonogram, which means we could hear the baby's heartbeat, but didn't get any pictures.  One cool thing we did talk to the doc about was storing the baby's cord blood.  Turns out the stem cells in the unbilical cord blood (or something to that effect) can be stored and used to combat an increasing number of diseases our child could possibly face, including diabetes and leukemia.  So we're seriously considering it.  It isn't cheap, but it's cheaper than a high end entertainment system if you throw in surround sound and a couple gaming consoles, so we'll probably figure out how to do it at some point in the near future.

The other major development yesterday is that our current doctor is moving on to a new job at Baylor Medical Center, meaning we have to switch doctors.  Not too big a deal for me, and Alison doesn't seem to be bothered by it too much either.  Our current doctor has made her recommendations and it looks like we'll be seeing someone from her current practice.  We have trusted her judgement so far and we are pretty confident with here opinion.

Today we go in for another sonogram with the fetal care specialist.  The elevated protein counts have them being careful and starting in about two weeks we'll be going in for weekly sonograms to keep an eye on things until our precious snowflake arrives.

I'm starting to get really excited. While we were waiting in the lobby at the doc's there were a number of mom's who were on at least thier second, and watching those little buggers run around and be all cute and stuff, well, I just wanted mine now.

This weekend Alison and I will begin registering for stuff at various places.  Once again I've been told that this would be so much easier if we would just find out the sex so everybody would know what to buy, but I have to be honest, I'm really excited about the surprise factor, so...no.  Alison in her usually awesome way has been keeping her eye on cool stuff to keep me feeling like as cool a dad as I can feel like, while I'm juggling poop filled diapers, breastmilk pumps, and stuffed animals.  She's a pretty sweet partner to have in all this.

I'm also working off a lot of the stress at the gym.  So that's nice.

Amnio appointment

Keith and I went to Baylor's Fetal Care Center yesterday for an amnioscentisis. When we arrived, the waiting room was packed. I checked in at 2:20 for a 2:30 appointment and took a seat to play solitaire on my phone while Keith read his magazines. Keith was extremely nervous, tapping his foot and sighing louder than usual. Everyone must have been behind because we waited until 3:20 before the nurse finally called my name.

The appointment went a lot faster than I anticipated. The nurse came, prepped the materials, and the doctor was in. He completed the sonogram and found a good location. The doctor said the baby looked great, but would continue with the procedure. He poked his finger exactly where the needle would be inserted, away from the little one. They cleaned the area and "pinch," the needle was in. A bit of cramping and 30 seconds later the doctor was done. PHEW, thank goodness it was over!

The doctor advised us that the amniotic fluid was greenish brown in color (should be yellowish), but believed the discoloration was due to bleeding that happened earlier in the pregnancy. Therefore, with high levels of AHP they want to monitor the baby leading up to delivery. So, after week 24 we will be going in for weekly ultrasounds. Rather safe than sorry. The doctor believes that there is nothing wrong with the baby, but the results will be returned in 10 days. Now, we'll just wait and see.

All in all, I feel pretty good. I was told to relax for a minimum of 24 hours, so Keith has been really great about waiting on me hand and foot. Man, I wish life was like this everyday! 

Yeah Baby! Halfway There, Watch Out World

To the left you can see the second sonogram we underwent.  This was the first one where we could start to see the details of the actual person that Alison is constructing insider of her.  It was pretty cool to see the limbs and what not that will one day be breaking things I don't want broken, and covering our walls in crayon masterpieces.  

So, we're getting closer and things are starting to be more real.  Not that it wasn't real before, but the list of things Alison and I need to do is growing.  And growing.  Sort of like the little munchkin in my baby's tummy.

The list of stuff they (meaning the various websites and books) say we need is pretty extensive.  We went to Babies R Us the other day to look around, browse the selections and also so I could get a sense of what I was getting into.  It's staggering.  There's so much stuff out there.  There had to be 100 different models of strollers.  I kept expecting Xzibit to pop out and offer to pimp our carriage.  I've been imagining what my car is going to look like once our precious snowflake arrives.  It's always been messy, and now I imagine it will be messy with baby stuff.  I'm going to need a very cool baby bag.  Something with skulls maybe.

Alison, God bless her, spent a couple weeks wondering why she couldn't feel the baby move yet.  She seemed really anxious about it.  Then a few days ago, bada bing bada boom, the baby moved.  She said it felt like the kid was having a blast.  I still haven't felt the kid moving, but I suppose it will come soon enough.  

Other than that things have been reasonably uneventful.  Honestly hearing some of the horror stories I've heard about pregnancy, this one seems to have gone pretty smoothly so far.  Alison hasn't been sick or anything, and other than needing new maternity wear every so often, the only thing that I've noticed is that she occasionally - and in the most positive way possible - gets slightly irritated with me over things that might not necessarily have made her irritated before.  But I have to say she has handled it like a trooper and I'm very proud of her.  

We go in for an amniocentesis on Friday, just a precaution to take some of the stress out of our lives.  the Doctors say there are risks, but from what we can see they are all very good at what they do, and we have faith that things will be alright.

We'll be back to add more on Saturday after the doctor's to add more.

20-wk mark...halfway there!

Happy Cinco-de-Drinko, LOL!

Today marks the beginning of the 20th week. Wow, what an adventure it has been! My tummy is starting to get larger and my co-workers have begun to notice. I guess another trip to the mall may be in order. I'm still eating anything and everything I can get my hands on, but no strange cravings yet. I definitely enjoy peach and raspberry sorbet -- FAT FREE, mmm! I've tried to exercise regularly, I walk at least one mile every day during the work week and when I have enough energy I walk on the treadmill in our complex.

Talk about exercise, I finally felt the baby move in my tummy over the weekend! It was about 1am and I couldn't sleep, so I laid on the couch to read one of my numerous pregnancy books. All of a sudden I felt what I thought was a muscle spasm, but shortly realized it was the little one doing some stretching! Definitely an exciting moment and I hope to share it with Keith soon. Every time he puts his hands on my belly, the baby stops moving...go figure.