Most monumental life moments come equipped with dates and times.
Graduation? Seniors count down the days left til they graduate...and the countdown seems to start during their sophomore year.
Your wedding? That date is set in stone about six seconds after you get engaged.
The arrival of the baby, though, simply happens. This is killing me.
Physically, we're all set. The nursery is done. The clothes are washed. The name has been selected (finally!).
Mentally, I'm not sure that we'll ever be totally prepared for that.
So, we wait.
The baby isn't due for another couple of weeks, yet, we're still on high alert.
We're ready....I think.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tricks of the trade
Here's one trick that I've been working on. All parents are incredible with it.
I call it the Carlos Mencia.
Child is playing with an object that is not a toy...perhaps a remote, or a Sharpie, or the cat. Parent, in an attempt to stop child from playing with dangerous object, offers a second (incredibly lame) toy while taking the fun toy.
It's a lot like Comedy Central offering Mind of Mencia to fill the void left by Chappelle Show.
I call it the Carlos Mencia.
Child is playing with an object that is not a toy...perhaps a remote, or a Sharpie, or the cat. Parent, in an attempt to stop child from playing with dangerous object, offers a second (incredibly lame) toy while taking the fun toy.
It's a lot like Comedy Central offering Mind of Mencia to fill the void left by Chappelle Show.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Car Seats
In order to be a certified car-seat installation checker, you have to sit through a four day training seminar.
Four days! That's half of Hanukkah, folks. And, for the gentiles, it's a day longer than it took Jesus to resurrect from the dead!
It's as long as the average NASCAR race.
Anything that takes four days to learn has to be important.
And, after trying to put that thing in the car alone, I gladly called up the health department for a little tutoring.
Thankfully, our unborn child now has a well-secured ride in the same back seat where he was conceived.
Okay...just crossed a line.
Also, I'm fibbing.
Four days! That's half of Hanukkah, folks. And, for the gentiles, it's a day longer than it took Jesus to resurrect from the dead!
It's as long as the average NASCAR race.
Anything that takes four days to learn has to be important.
And, after trying to put that thing in the car alone, I gladly called up the health department for a little tutoring.
Thankfully, our unborn child now has a well-secured ride in the same back seat where he was conceived.
Okay...just crossed a line.
Also, I'm fibbing.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Go bag, Go!
We're getting really close to kickoff. Or, is it tip-off? Faceoff? First pitch?
The problem with the baby is that, unless you have a scheduled c-section, you don't have a countdown clock. We could be T-minus 4 weeks, or T-minus 4 minutes.
We're making our last-minute preparations, which includes packing our "go bags." I've been told that go bags are very than many other types of bags, including golf, grocery, douche, saddle, bean, rosin, and bowling.
In the go bag, (and by "go bag", I mean "go bags") you have to cram everything you own. This includes, but is not limited to:
So, I've resigned myself to being okay with forgetting something, so long as it's not the wife. She's the important part during all of this.
Right now, we have a suitcase packed for her, a duffel bag packed for me, nothing packed for the little guy, some snacks, cameras (not for the circumcision), and a carseat which is not properly installed.
Hopefully, T-minus 4 minutes is not the case.
*Cigarettes will be chain-smoked*** in the waiting room while I wear a hole in the floor from my nervous pacing back and forth, just like in the cartoons.
** Cigars will be passed out to everyone I meet, letting them know that I've had a baby, and that I'll soon be begging for reasons to get out of the house.
*** I don't smoke. Hospitals don't permit smoking on their property. Waiting room floors are pace-proof. My jolly ass will be coaching in the delivery room, not watching SpongeRobert SquareTrousers in the lobby.
The problem with the baby is that, unless you have a scheduled c-section, you don't have a countdown clock. We could be T-minus 4 weeks, or T-minus 4 minutes.
We're making our last-minute preparations, which includes packing our "go bags." I've been told that go bags are very than many other types of bags, including golf, grocery, douche, saddle, bean, rosin, and bowling.
In the go bag, (and by "go bag", I mean "go bags") you have to cram everything you own. This includes, but is not limited to:
toiletries, pillows, Mountain Dew, underwear, clothes, wiffle-ball bat, clothes for the baby, a hat for the baby, mittens for the baby, a pacifier for the baby, a pacifier for the mother, contact lists, That Thing You Do! on VHS, camera, video camera, batteries, memory cards, Flintstone vitamins, car seat, hard candy, several JeffJams/Jeffapalooza/Joestock mixed cassettes, streamers, cigarettes*, cigars**, urine samples, my wife...Yeah.
So, I've resigned myself to being okay with forgetting something, so long as it's not the wife. She's the important part during all of this.
Right now, we have a suitcase packed for her, a duffel bag packed for me, nothing packed for the little guy, some snacks, cameras (not for the circumcision), and a carseat which is not properly installed.
Hopefully, T-minus 4 minutes is not the case.
*Cigarettes will be chain-smoked*** in the waiting room while I wear a hole in the floor from my nervous pacing back and forth, just like in the cartoons.
** Cigars will be passed out to everyone I meet, letting them know that I've had a baby, and that I'll soon be begging for reasons to get out of the house.
*** I don't smoke. Hospitals don't permit smoking on their property. Waiting room floors are pace-proof. My jolly ass will be coaching in the delivery room, not watching SpongeRobert SquareTrousers in the lobby.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Quick thought...
...we have a cat.
Would it be possible to litter-train our child?
I can picture it....in a few years, I'll be on the toilet reading an article in Sports Illustrated about how the Cleveland Cavaliers won their 4th consecutive NBA Championship, my son crouching in the litter box reading the hilarious adventures of the Timbertoes and Goofus & Gallant in Highlights.
Would it be possible to litter-train our child?
I can picture it....in a few years, I'll be on the toilet reading an article in Sports Illustrated about how the Cleveland Cavaliers won their 4th consecutive NBA Championship, my son crouching in the litter box reading the hilarious adventures of the Timbertoes and Goofus & Gallant in Highlights.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Naming Rights
How the hell does this work?
Finding a name that we both love has proved to be the biggest challenge of the pregnancy. It's not that we can't find a name we both love...we can't find many names we both don't hate.
Now, hate is a strong word. I don't hate names. I merely have strong aversions to names based on three main reasons:
We have a book which offers up 50,001 potential names for our child. Since we know we're having a boy, that leaves us roughly 25,000.5 names from which to choose.
We agree on one thing. We'll need to figure out a name soon.
My main test is this: When you say a name, what instrument in the school band to I picture a kid with that name playing? If the answer is "flute" or "clarinet," it is thrown out.
No offense to male flautists or clarinetists.
Everyone has their suggestions.
Parents offer up advice...."We just knew." "You'll know it when you see it." Really? We'll know it when we see it? I just read 25,000 and a half names. And of those, there are about 800 real names, and about 17,000 lame attempts to fill up a book. Page 288: Trampus (American) meaning Talkative.
Really.
__
It's not like a name is a big deal. It only lasts for eternity.
Finding a name that we both love has proved to be the biggest challenge of the pregnancy. It's not that we can't find a name we both love...we can't find many names we both don't hate.
Now, hate is a strong word. I don't hate names. I merely have strong aversions to names based on three main reasons:
- I know and dislike a person (real or fictional) with that name.
- It sounds goofy
- My wife really loves it.
We have a book which offers up 50,001 potential names for our child. Since we know we're having a boy, that leaves us roughly 25,000.5 names from which to choose.
We agree on one thing. We'll need to figure out a name soon.
My main test is this: When you say a name, what instrument in the school band to I picture a kid with that name playing? If the answer is "flute" or "clarinet," it is thrown out.
No offense to male flautists or clarinetists.
Everyone has their suggestions.
Parents offer up advice...."We just knew." "You'll know it when you see it." Really? We'll know it when we see it? I just read 25,000 and a half names. And of those, there are about 800 real names, and about 17,000 lame attempts to fill up a book. Page 288: Trampus (American) meaning Talkative.
Really.
__
It's not like a name is a big deal. It only lasts for eternity.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
I think unborn children should have to read What to Expect When You're Expected. They'd probably be more prepared for birth.
Chapter One: Head first!
Chapter Two: Face down.
Chapter Three: Bundle up...it's cold out there. Also, don't forget the eye stuff in case your mom has gonhorrea!
Chapter Four: Circumcisions and you...what your buddies won't tell you.
Chapter Five: Boobs....it's what's for dinner.
I mean, this would be a good read, yes?
Chapter One: Head first!
Chapter Two: Face down.
Chapter Three: Bundle up...it's cold out there. Also, don't forget the eye stuff in case your mom has gonhorrea!
Chapter Four: Circumcisions and you...what your buddies won't tell you.
Chapter Five: Boobs....it's what's for dinner.
I mean, this would be a good read, yes?
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