Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of weird crap no one told me...

So here we are at 5 months old. Zoey's doing fantastic, and of course growing every day. There's a lot that I have on my mind so if I may, I shall skip the usual updates and just get to it...

Let us start with the Zoester herself. First of all, most people will think that babies are horrible at multi-tasking, but to them I must say nay. Why just today, the perfect little girl that I sit and imagine to be the first female President, was nursing and pooping at the same time. Yes, there are few things more disturbing than watching someone eat and poop at the exact same time. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she were more discrete, but as those with kids will tell you discretion is the last thing on the mind of a baby. She merely sucks and pushes, causing her face to turn an alarming shade of red, and (sometimes) even has watery eyes. Now, being the good dad that I am, I've tried to explain to her that pushing that hard will only lead to a blown O ring, and that I've known bigger men than her succumb to this particular mistake. However, she continues to push, which unfortunately (and hilariously), has even led to milk shooting out of her nose.Which leads to the most disturbing part of this bizarre little person. Whenever she decides to take said dump, she feels the need to stare at me. It doesn't matter if I'm feeding her a bottle, if Jen's nursing her, or if she's just laying on the floor playing, she feels the need to stop what she's doing and look at dear old dad during her daily constitutionals. Now I've never felt my looks have held any laxative qualities, so therefore I can only come to the conclusion that she does it on purpose to punish me. As a matter of fact, all of her bodily functions seem to been done with malicious intent....Case in point, why is it that when you take her diaper off, clean her up and get a new diaper out, that she chooses then to spray down you and whatever else happens to be in the "splash zone" with a hot stream of urine? Cute baby antics or payback for making her take a nap? And furthermore, the last time I saw someone as wobbly as Zoey and with such a big smile on her face look directly at me and vomit, was a sorority girl in college who'd had too many Jagerbombs. Moms will say sour stomach, but I say, retribution for that goofy looking outfit I made her wear? Now I know there will be arguments over whether or not a 5 month old can be mean, but I merely ask you to consider the possibility....

Oh! A quick side note on fecal matter (heh, bet that's the first time you've read a sentence like that huh?). I've been to dumps, gutted animals, been near roadkill and even seen a dead body, but why is it that my daughter's poop makes me gag like I've just been in the gas chamber at boot camp? You want to defeat terrorists? Start dropping that on them....they'll give up, trust me.

Come with me now dear readers into the magical world of breastfeeding....
So as a man, I've been genetically programmed with a few things. First, I friggin HATE being late to ANYWHERE, and if possible I wanna be the first person there just so I can talk shit to all the people that come in after me. Next, I like boobs. I like to look at them, touch them, snuggle with them, talk about them, read about them, I like the way they smell, the way they move, (bra optional)and I even like to play a fun game called "Guess the Cup Size". Lastly, as a man I am predisposed to be protective (or jealous if you wanna be primitive about it) of my lovely wife. Well, lemme tell ya right now, breastfeeding RUINS all of that. You think that you were late before when your mate took forever getting ready? Try to argue timing when she looks at you and says, "Really? So you care more about being on time, than whether or not your child eats?!!" (Psst, b-t-dub, the answer is always yes, I am a man after all...see above) So, I must sit and wait while my daughter, who by the way is distracted by a mouse fart, takes her time to enjoy every last freakin drop, and then take my verbal "beat down" when I show up late to wherever we may be going. As for the boob loving? Well my friends, there is no boob love when you live with a breastfeeder....Something all you dad-to-be's should know (Josh I'm talking to you in particular), boobs that are full of milk, and chewed on by an infant don't wanna be touched, or snuggled, or talked about, smelled, or watched when they move (and yes this does include when they are being used in a pump), and God help you if you comment on any size difference. As for being written about, well I'll let you know after Jen reads this particular passage....Lastly, as the partner of a nursing mom, you have to become used to the fact that more often than not, your prize possessions (her boobs) are gonna be on display in some shape or form. Case in point, Jen and I were on our way to the theater (without Zoey, THANK YOU Grammy)so she has to pump. Now back in high school when you're young and dumb it's funny when your girlfriend flashes a trucker. It's a totally different ballgame when your beautiful wife's boobs are out with a machine attached to them as you drive down the highway....

So as I'm finishing up,(time for me to go warm up a bottle)I gotta give Jen big (no seriously, post pregnancy big :-) ) props for nursing. It's a royal pain in the ass to do, and I would have given up long ago, well, that and it would be really gross to see me trying to breastfeed...But she keeps plugging away and is doing a terrific job. From everything to taking her boob out in public places, having to pump in a nasty closet the great state of Missouri calls a "nursing station", to putting said pump together like one of the military exercises they do where they have to put their guns together, she does a great job, and Zoey is all the better for it. So my dear, even though I poke fun at you here, just know that I appreciate all the hard work you do....

Till next time dear readers....

And this is only the beginning....

Well dear readers, I'm sure at this point you never expected to hear from me again right? Just another blogging flash-in-the-pan that's here one day and poof the next. Well, to that I say poppycock! I simply was forced to take a break due to the fact my new daughter seems to take up all my time. Yes, that's right she's here. I know to most of my followers that's old news, however to some that may not know, here's the cliff notes. Zoey was born healthy and happy on April 29th, and so far is as close to perfection as you can get. As for my wife and I, well... we're new parents and as many know, that's one helluva new experience...

So as you know from earlier posts, we were as prepared as any new parents could be without actually having a baby. Labor went fantastic, my lovely wife did amazingly well and all went as plan with the birth. Well, that is except for a couple things. You see, we had an agreement that in the labor room I'd stay north of what we're calling her "equator". This was her wish, and frankly, I had no problems with that. By no means am I the guy in the room with the camera aimed at her hoo-ha (yeah I called it a hoo-ha, sue me) trying to catch the "joyous moment". But here's the truth that no one wants you to know. Staying away from the "business end" or if you prefer the "splash zone" is nearly impossible. I had a nurse tell me to grab a foot and place it directly over my wife's head. Now, for all of you that have seen (or been in) this position, you are well aware that as the foot rises higher, the equator shifts, and you end up face to face with what appears to be a combination of every gore-fest movie ever made. Let me say this so everyone will understand...this is not "amazing", or "beautiful", or "natural", this is hands down, the grossest thing you'll ever see this side of a Wes Craven nightmare. And please understand this in no way reflects on how beautiful I think my wife is (very b-t-dub) but I felt that the truth like the X-files needed to be out there. Oh, and Dad's-to-be, be warned, when your baby comes out, that's not really what he or she will look like forever, I promise everything will look more normal in a week or so. A couple other tips for the Dad's: 1. Don't drink 3 Red Bulls during labor, there's not a whole lot you can do as you're running laps around the room. 2. Stop and eat on the way to the hospital, cause you have no time once you're there. And 3. after the 2-3 days you and your wife are in the hospital with the new baby, they make you go home....

Now you might think to yourself, Duh Dave, I know I have to take the baby home. But here's what I'm telling you...Once you enter the hospital, it's like you enter an alternate universe. You lose all concept of the "outside" and become completely focused on the task at hand. And like it or not, you have to drive your new baby home amongst all the "bad drivers" that on any other day would be fine. I know this because after 3 days of having a nursing staff wait on you hand and foot, they politely ask if you have a car seat, and then they take you to the door and say "bye now, have a good day!" That's when reality will begin to hit you...You're gonna find yourself driving 30 in a 70, and flipping off anyone who dares come within 20 yards of your vehicle, and God help the person on the cellphone as they blow by you without even looking. This is all completely normal and usually passes after a month or so.

As for being home, that's not so bad once you get the hang of it. I can tell you now, most people didn't lie about this part. You get little to no sleep, you stop caring about whether or not you showered, or the house got cleaned, and instead you just sit on the couch and watch the little one sleep. Take advantage of these moments, cause they go by surprisingly fast! Even as I write this, the Zoester doesn't really sleep in your arms like she used to, and she's already rolling around the house like a drunken hobo. A few other things I've noticed....I always wondered why new parents talked about poop so much, and swore I'd never mention it when I became a parent, well that's not exactly true. In some weird fashion, you end up talking about, counting the number of, or examining the color of your child's poop. I can only hope this will be a short lasting habit, as even though I'm guilty as charged, I can do nothing but be ashamed of giving in to this behavior. Another thing is you become used to your child's crying. As we all know, when you're out in public and we hear a baby cry it's annoying. Just admit it people, there's many out there who like to say it doesn't bother them or they don't really hear it, but this is a lie. I still don't like listening to it, and all it does to Jen is make her lactate. However, when Zoey cries, all we really hear is what she's crying for, cause after a bit you learn that there's a hungry cry, a tired cry, and sometimes, just a cry for crying sake.

Well dear readers, this post seems a little scattered and I feel like I should stop for now, cause I've still got a million things to get done before Zoey wakes up from her nap, but at least this gets us close to being caught up, and I promise to post soon.