The Zombie-Pregnancy Interaction Theory

Hello readers, I hope all of you had a great holiday season and survived another long stint of time with your families. Did you know that in some countries that's actually a punishment for crimes? As you know, I haven't updated lately due to our own holiday tornado tour. (It's kinda like the Beatles Magical Mystery Tour without the LSD) But now that the smell of fresh baked cookies is out of the air, the last little (completely frustrating) piece of shiny garland hair has been picked up, and we've started another new year, I decided it was time to get my butt back in gear and let you know where we are. So I invite you once again to join me on this crazy (and sometimes hilarious) journey they call pregnancy...

So as it stands today, we are officially 23 weeks pregnant and Jen is looking more beautiful by the day. She got a ton of really cute maternity clothes and is now able to stop dressing like a disgruntled teenager wearing her boyfriend's jacket (aka my clothes) and start dressing in the cute, form fitting clothes that show off her adorable baby bump. I can only imagine that wearing these new clothes allows her a freedom that all of us wish secretly for....not having to suck in. Although, with the new clothes I'm noticing a disturbing trend.....

I'm not sure, but I think if I were to do some research, I'd find that there seems to be some magnetic properties between a baby bump and the human hand. After quiet observation I've came to the conclusion that even the most anti-social of individuals (in this case, my best friend Trevor) seems to be attracted, if not drawn by the above stated magnetic force towards Jennifer's stomach. I've observed these actions in many settings. For example, I theorize that if you put a noticeably pregnant woman in a room full of people, they will be drawn to her like zombies to a freshly wounded victim, arms outstretched, slowly walking (as if not to scare their prey), and mumbling incoherent statements that sound disturbingly a lot like Braaaiinnnsss, (on further review the mumblings were actually cooing sounds and various baby-like words). On contact, the drove of zombie-like people begin not to devour the victim as I'd feared, but to touch, pat, shake, and sometimes talk to the baby bump, sometimes completely ignoring what I'm calling the host body (in this case Jenni). Now does this pack have a leader or a known hierarchy? I'm still working on that, but I feel safe with these preliminary results. First of all, you have the Grandmas or "Alpha mothers". They are typically identified by horrible looking sweatshirts with the claim of "World's Best Granny" or "The Spoilin' Starts Here" printed on front and on some occasions tear-filled eyes. Be warned that these "Alpha mothers" are highly territorial and will attack if given the slightest hint of danger to the host.

Following the Alphas, you have the "Beta mothers" which consist of Aunts, friends, co-workers, and various other strangers that have been pregnant before. The Betas are the largest group, and seem to have the duties of overwhelming the host with loads of information about being pregnant, and what the host should do during this joyous time. This information is not always helpful, and in most cases seems to do nothing more than scare the host into fits of panic about the impending baby. Beta's can be identified by slightly trendier clothes than that of the Alpha's, and also by their distinctive calls. You'll be able to recognize the call of the Beta by listening for things like "I've got some great advice..." or anything pertaining to episiotomy stitches.

The last group in this hoard is the Deltas. I know what you're thinking, Deltas sound like a group of hot sorority girls, but let me warn you, they are not. Deltas are split into two factions. The first is made up of 99 percent men, and are by far, the least threatening to the host. This faction of Deltas deal mainly with the host's mate (me) and are identified by their sad, worn, faces and dull lifeless eyes. These Deltas are known by their calls of "Kiss your sex life goodbye...", and "Do you know how expensive kids are...", and also by their plumage (clothes) which are almost always determined by the Alphas or Deltas they're mated with. Please note, that in my research I've came across a disturbing group of Deltas that are comprised of "new dads" that can be as dangerous as Betas and in some cases, even Alphas. These dangerous Deltas are known to have a somewhat rabid look in there eyes, strange white, sour smelling stains on their clothes, and may try to convince you to watch his mate's birthing video.

The Second and potentially most energetic faction of Deltas are comprised of women that are moms-in-training. These Deltas will wait on the outside of the pack, biding their time for an opening. Notice the slightly crazed look in their eyes, and the way their hands seem to constantly twitch in anticipation of the impending baby bump contact. These Deltas are known to isolate the host and will use this time to find out when during the month the host was most likely to conceive, and inquire if said host did anything to help this process along such as stand on her head or lay against the wall with her legs up in the air.

As I said before, these are just preliminary results and may be subjected to changes at any time. As protection for the host, I feel as though I must be on guard at all times, nimble and cunning as a cat, with the strength of a bear, to do battle with any of these groups, as they may be encountered anywhere. So please, if you see a host in public, and a mob of zombie-like people approaching, heed my advice and remember, if you stand very still, and suck in, you should be completely safe.

I feel good...is something wrong??

This is the panicked message I received on Tuesday. Yes, my lovely wife was completely freaking out because she felt, wait for it...normal. "Should I call the Dr?", she asked me. Now, in my head, this is what I was thinking, "Uh...no, this is what you've been praying for for months now, and p.s. take off your pants!". What I said (because face it ladies, if guys actually said what they wanted to, most times it would end with p.s. take off your pants AND we'd be in a lot more trouble than we already are) was, "Honey, if you think that you need to call the Dr, then you absolutely should." So (of course) she decided that she would call the Dr, and after 24hrs of panicking over feeling completely awesome, we made the trip to the office and once again was able to hear Peanut's strong heartbeat. It should be noted here, that the only reason the Dr called us in is to make sure that Jenni wouldn't be stressed out over the holidays. However, by calling us in, she not only stressed Jen out, she sent her into an all out tailspin. So please, if there are any doctors that just happen to read this (AHEM, dear sis-in-law Susan) please understand that when you call a pregnant woman into your office for an unscheduled visit, make it known up front that there is NO NEED TO WORRY!

So here we are at 17 weeks already! Jen is convinced we need to go buy our very own Doppler to allow her to listen to the heartbeat whenever she sees fit, and I have to argue against her (which is as dangerous as filling your mouth with Pop Rocks and chugging a Coke) because I keep getting a vision of her walking around in public with a goo covered belly and the strangest looking ipod any one's ever seen. Seriously, think about that vision for a minute and you'll realize why we don't own one...it's disturbing. Speaking of strange looks and such, please allow me to dust off my soap box for a minute, cause I SAYA! I said, I said I SAYA, I feel a sermon comin on!

Listen, I completely understand that for some folks, I don't exactly fit the stereotype of "normal" looking. And for the most part, I even take pride in the fact that I seem to scare the very old (and young) with my mere presence. But time has come to put something to rest, I DO NOT BEAT MY WIFE! Now, please retract that look of confusion (or horror) and continue to read, I'll explain. It's been understood that Jen is the balanced one in our relationship, the "normie", or if you'll indulge me the yin to my yang, the Paula Abdul to my MC Skat Kat (yes I know the name of the cartoon rapper from the video), or the Zippidy to my Doodah. Ok, so maybe the last one was a little ridiculous but you get my point. But here lately, thanks in large part to the blessing of a gift we call hormones, I've been getting nothing but mean and hateful looks from the fairer sex out there. Whenever Jenni decides to cry, like when she sees an old couple, or a baby, or a cute puppy, or hears a song, or gets hungry, or when the damn doctor CALLS US IN FOR NO REASON, or (strangely enough) when she sees Marshika Hargitay (yes the Law and Order chic) on tv, and I'm there to comfort her, everyone looks at me like I'm the next Son of Sam. It's as if every woman out there shoots daggers out of her eyes and directs them at me, and silently tells Jen, "Honey, you don't have to take this kind of treatment, he's a bad man." And does my beautiful wife help me out here? Maybe cry at home? Or at least not in public? No. So there I sit at (fill in any place here) smiling awkwardly as she sobs into a never ending stream of tissues. (Which b-t-dub comes from MY pockets so she doesn't have to carry them!) So please all of you store clerks, restaurant hosts and waiters, movie ticket takers, seemingly innocent passers by, and little old ladies (I'm talking to YOU lady from the doctor's office!) remember that she's crying for any number of reasons, not because her mean looking husband just roughed her up out back with a phone book. Hmmm, maybe I should get a shirt that says "I didn't make her cry... she's just pregnant"....

Well enough of that...Oh! I almost forgot, we now officially have a baby's room, which is conveniently located in our very own new house!! We are about 80% unpacked and sailing right along. And if you're wondering how it was to move with a pregnant wife who enjoys being in charge....well, I'll fill you in on that one some other time. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!

P.S. Do me a favor, and if you like this blog, recommend it to others and there's now a link to email any of the blogs you find particularly interesting near the end of the last paragraph.