Month: February 2009

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Dad Blogs Family Life in these United States Marriage

Too busy to care?

Can you feel it? And didn’t it happen right around the turn of the year?

Aren’t we all just a LOT busier? My Lord, even with the “The Pregnancy,” I hardly have time to cook a meal, much less ponder meaningful and reader-worthy posts.

My only consolation here is that everyone else seems to be suffering from the same malaise and so I don’t feel so bad about not commenting as much as I used to. I applaud those of you who are sticking with it however. You complete me!

HA!

In all seriousness though, part of this post is that old exercise in college, “Just start writing something…anything…” but so far it’s not working. Oh, I could go on and on gabbing about nothing in particular, but is that really a good use of your time? Don’t you have like, laundry to do or something? Chickens to feed maybe?

Oh, so CareerMom had week 13’s “High Risk” pregnancy work up and all initial signs point to thumbs up. So that’s good. I have one of the ultrasound pics pinned to my cube wall. I’m not sure why. Is it to remind myself why I work? Is it to hopefully help get me all excited through the overflowing bubbliness that is sure to ensue when some of the ladies around the office stop by to “oooh” and “aaah” over it.

Who am I kidding, nobody drops by my cubicle.

Also, no signs of either a female, or male sexual organ, so we’re going to have to endure a few more, “Oh, maybe this time you’ll have a little girl” comments like I got from my cousin on Sunday. I might have been a tad rude in my response that simply said (and remember, this is a person I speak to like twice a year), “After two miscarriages, we’ll just be happy with a healthy baby.”

So sue me…I was grumpy.

Let’s see, oh yeah. The airline tickets are really cheap up to “Trisha Truly’s” neck of the woods (she’s my Bio-Mom), so I might fly up to see her in March. But that’s only if I can convince her that this rock-hard, manly body of mine CAN NOT and WILL NOT subsist on Metafast and clover that she picked from her own field.

Well here’s to hoping that whatever is keeping you busy, at least feels good!

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Life in these United States Marriage

P is for Pregnancy!

image It is neither my intention, or desire, to turn this blog into a 9-month “and today in our pregnancy we did so and so” novella; but, it IS inevitable that when you’re living and breathing it on a daily basis, that things occur to you that you just have to share with the wider world. So today I thought I’d be very topical and bring you the word “PREGNANCY” in all its glory:

P – is for Privacy. Privacy is something I’m about to lose when the new baby comes. See, our guest room, when not acting as a “Guest” room, acts as my own personal man-sanctuary. Here, safely ensconced behind two locked doors, I can do my bid-ness in peace…and pull a Costanza with a library book.

R – is for Recreation. I’m going to have to find a new form of recreation as the boys get older. Currently, my only form of non-gym related recreation is golf. Golf, even at a cheap place around here, costs you $50 by the time you’re done. Multiply that times three (four if the next baby is a boy) and that’s just untenable. Hiking is sounding like a good (read: cheap) alternative.

E – is for Energy. I think it’s very unfair for mother nature to so completely sap a woman’s energy for months prior to having a kid, only to suddenly give it all back to her in the form of “nesting” just before it’s born. I mean, it’s setting a completely unreal precedent! As if, once the baby’s here, you’ll be able to live on estrogen and adrenaline well enough to keep from falling over at every opportunity. Much more believable, would be to keep the mother (and father) awake for the last two months of the pregnancy, and to make them both allergic to showers, fine dining and television.

G – is for Gee. As CareerMom turned to me the other evening, after letting out a heartburn induced burp, “FOR REAL, no more. FOR REAL!” I turned to her and said, “Gee, I’m pretty sure I was pretty F’ing serious last time I said ‘No More’ too!”

N – is for Never. As in “never friggin’ again”

A – is for Answers. Maybe by the time the third one asks me why God made his or her best friend’s skin brown, I’ll have an answer that sounds both intelligent and believable at the same time.

N – is for Nosey. Kids are the nosiest people. Daddy, what do you have in your mouth? Daddy, what are you doing? Daddy, what are you and mommy talking about? Daddy, why are you hiding from me?”

C – Is for consistency. Which is the complete opposite of what you get when you’re pregnant. Last night it was in the low forties outside. We had the heater on and CareerMom had me turn the fan on in our bedroom because of her constantly changing body temp and hot flashes. Are you hungry? Are you nauseaus? Are you tired? Are you coming onto me? Are you crying? It never stops!

Y – is for Youth. Because even in this crazy, crazy world of babies, and not enough time or money, when you’re out at a restaurant, like last night, and your littlest one stands up in a chair with a mouth full of brown, wet OREO that looks like a snuff of Skoal in his lip, and he yells out at the top of his lungs “BYE BYE” while waving to the crowd…you have to just smile. I just hope I remember the good stuff and forget the frustrations.

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Life in these United States Society

Picture Phone Phriday!

I know that, as a general rule, you should never say NEVER, but at this point in my life, such a thing surely seems highly unlikely.

Why I will never own one of these little hybrid things (I barely got the box of Huggies and the 50-pack of paper towels in my truck yesterday!):

I took this picture:

image

    In this parking lot:

image

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Marriage

On pregnancy etiquette

image You know how when you buy a car (or you name your child), at the time, you don’t think too many other people have had the same idea. You think you’re fairly unique right? But then, after getting your cherry red Passat (or you name your child “Ethan”) you start seeing your car on the road…a lot.

Well, being pregnant (again) is a lot like that. I’m suddenly very conscientious about the whole pregnancy thing. For instance, I work in a cube farm and people drop by from time to time to ask a question, or to read my whiteboard (cuz it’s witty and informative) or what have you. Generally, I don’t get out of my chair–largely because, to do so, would mean that I would be taking up the bulk of the space in my cube, which would in turn, drive the other person outside of my cube. And that would probably be rude.

So, when…say…that short pregnant lady that I work with comes by, I’m cognizant of the fact that she probably feels as big as a house and so I do my ever-luvin best NOT to look at her belly while I’m sitting belly high in my chair talking to her.

And so it is with the whole, “What are you having?” question.

Yes, I realize we have two boys and so naturally, most people feel that we are just desperate for a girl; but, hold on a second.

We’ve also been so unfortunate, as to have lost two pregnancies, and both at a time when most folks are considered “safe.” This happened prior to each of our boys being born, so in each instance, when we did get pregnant again, we really just wanted a healthy baby.

And so it is now. But I can’t tell you how many people, ALL WOMEN mind you, have said, “Well, maybe this time you’ll have a little girl.”

Well, isn’t that special?

If ever you meet CareerMom while she is pregnant, do not, I repeat DO NOT, say this to her. You want to see her hackles come up? Say that.

I’m not kidding. Zip it. You can think it all you want; just don’t say it.

And granted, random people who barely know us, don’t know any better, but when family says it? Yikes. Just as a general rule, I think this is something you should keep to yourself. Kinda like, “Man your dog is butt-ugly,” or “Dude, seriously…put some pants on over those biker shorts!” because you just never know the circumstances behind the situation.

By the way, we men learned long ago not to say stupid stuff like this. I can’t remember the last time I heard a guy ask a fat woman, “When are you due?” or “Can I touch your belly?”

Uh uh. We aren’t THAT dumb. But apparently, these life lessons just passed other women on by.

And people say we men are insensitive. Tsk tsk tsk.