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.