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.