And just why does that start labor?

Well dear readers, the day is quickly approaching. On Tuesday Jen and I went to the Dr and she's now walking around 2 centimeters dilated, and they've estimated Peanut weighing in at a whopping 8lbs 14oz. Now will she actually come out this big, I have my doubts, but with that in mind, our dr has decided that if Peanut's not out by April 30th, Jen is going to be induced at 7am that morning!! If you're keeping track, we are almost 39 weeks along, but apparently the baby is measuring closer to 41 weeks along so no worries, she's fully cooked, just stubborn like her mother and refusing to do what we want her to (foreshadowing anyone?). Now, with all the factoids outta the way, lemme tell you what's been goin on lately...

Now, everyone and their mother has a time honored, age ole, guranteeed way to make a baby decided to head south and come out. For some, it's a certain food. Others, it's a certain activity. For Jen, it's every single friggin suggestion that she hears or reads in any article or hears from anyone in general. For example, this past Monday Jen decided that we should go have Mexican food. Silly me thought it was to change up our normal, but when I saw the Himalayan sized pile of jalapenos she put on her food, I should have been tipped off. And when she added hot sauce, did I catch on...no. It was only when, after eating (and sweating) the entire meal that she decided that we should take a walk that it dawned on me that she was up to something. So I asked my dear sweet wife what was goin on, and she looked at me with a matter-of-fact look, and said "Oh?!, Didn't I let you know? I'm done being pregnant." I then politely attempted to inform her that it doesn't exactly work that way, and she "politely" explained to me, that she had cleaned the house, finished up EVERYTHING on her to-do lists, (can I get an Amen?!) done the bills, and packed her hospital bag, and therefore was done being pregnant. So when the spicy Mexican didn't work, she moved on to the next item. Sunday we had a blast letting our aunt Margie take a ton of beautiful pictures of us before Peanut makes her big entrance. While doing this, she mentioned that her sister (yes, you aunt Pat) went into labor after eating Long John Silver's fish. Anyone wanna guess where Jen had me take her for lunch....and dinner? Does anyone out there have any idea how greasy the fish at LJS is? And b-t-dub, I'm pretty sure that even though they fill a whole section of your plate with those little crunchy bits, that doesn't qualify as a side item, you CAN however (at least if you're visibly pregnant) ask for extra crunchies. As I'm sure you've guessed, our trip(s) to LJS produced no baby, so undeterred my better half evilly offered up my own personal kryptonite for our next culinary induction...the deliciousness known as Chinese buffet. MSG's be damned, I watched her plow through plate fulls of spicy chicken like a champion sled team racing for first in the Iditarod. All I'm afraid, for not, because once again...no baby. All these adventures did however, give me time to examine the decor in our bathroom...at great length. So after the food came up short, and the walking came up with no results, a co-worker informed Jen she was bringing Castor Oil to work. Now, I'm not sure if you're supposed to ingest this or use it as some sort of lube, but either way, at this point Jen's on her own...

On a side note,

According to many reliable sources, nipple stimulation and intercourse are two ways to cause labor to start. So for the record, I ruined the first option with an ill-timed giggle, and as for the second option...well let's say that there really is no good time to tell a story about a co-worker who liked to call it "Climbing the Mountain" when his wife was pregnant...

So ladies and gents, the next time I talk to you, we will have a new bundle of pooping, peeing, barfing, and crying joy, so wish us luck, and I'm sure the next post is gonna be a doozie so stay tuned.

Doin Time

They say the worst thing about prison is all the time you have on your hands to do nothing...a man could go crazy that way....

So let me be clear before all of you parents start replying about how "Your gonna wish you had all that time with nothing to do, blah blah blah". What I'm talking about is think back to when you were sitting in a house full of baby stuff with a wife that's a stone's throw away from 36 weeks pregnant (with the demeanor of an alley cat might I add, you know, sweet...bitie...sweet...scratchy...sweet...SHUT THE HELL UP DAVE THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT-IE) and nothing to do but look at each other and wonder when the baby's finally gonna get here.

First of all, the shower stuff is over. ( a HUGE thanks to all of you for your wonderful gifts!!) No longer does our living room look like my parents house on Christmas morning, (for those of you who don't know, we couldn't even see the tree this year...) although what cruel twist of fate it is to get a cornucopia of gifts and not one be for you...but I digress. I have mastered the art of putting things together with nothing more than a impossibly tiny allen wrench and a set of instructions in French, (Suck it Rosetta Stone!!) and have now glimpsed a future full of doll houses, play strollers, play houses, toy kitchens, and other father torturing "necessities" that kids come with. (What ever happened to being satisfied with an old ass board game with half the pieces missing at grandma's house??) Although I feel it's necessary here to blow my own triumphant horn merely to point out that my beloved sat quietly on the couch the entire time waiting for a freak-out that never came, and yes she will vouch for me on this. At no time did I throw the ridiculously small friggin wrench, pick up whatever item I was working on and politely throw it out the front door, or call said item a "Siberian Sack of Shit". Which, b-t-dub has been, and continues to this day to be, one of my dad's preferred sayings. Which then leads one to ask, just what do the people Siberia make, and if in fact all of the stuff is crappy?

Next of course is the room, which is only missing a baby. Seriously, I believe that if someone were to drop one off on our doorstep, they'd have everything they need. And just today, Jen even packed an overnight bag for the hospital, not that we think she'll go before her due date, but my wife has a tendency to prepare a little early for things. Speaking of my wife, let me share with you a little peek of what our household has been like lately.

Now that we're this far along and have, according to the Dr., a 6lb and counting Peanut a few things have changed. I still sit and watch the woman I married shuffle slowly around the house muttering to herself about the heat, and speaking to a child that can barely hear her, let alone understand her...But now, I also get to see the once very cute tummy that moved gracefully, and so adorably under Jen's shirts react like a wolverine...in a pillow case...with rabies... Seriously most times it doesn't even look cute anymore, just painful!! It's actually kinda scary, I mean I've continuously made reference to the kitchen scene in Alien, but this is the first time I ever really believed that she may come shooting out of what was once my beloveds belly button! And to go along with this, bedtime is now less like sleeping with the one you love, and more like an adventure with the ghost of Jacob Marley (yes the guy from A Christmas Carol). Every time there's a turn (and there's one about every hour thanks to our little bundle of "joy") Jen wails like the dead and I'm not positive, but I believe she kicks me and wakes me up on general principal for, (as she likes to refer to it) "doing this to her". And let me let you in on a secret that no one told me. Pregnant women have amazingly realistic dreams, which are mostly bad or scary, and you can bet your ass always your fault. So if the wailing and the kicking or the constant flushing (due to a baby head squeezing Jen's bladder roughly the size of pea) doesn't happen to wake you, she will...and want you to explain why you did all the bad things in her dreams.

So as I said before, here we are, waiting for the big day which is unfortunately still 4 whole weeks away. All our I's crossed, and our T's dotted...waiting...patiently....doin nothin.....just waitin.....GOOD GOD I WISH SHE'D HURRY UP AND GET HERE!!!

Holy Heart Attack Batman

So here I am stuck in Kansas for work, and what's the phone call I get the other day? It's none other than my lovely wife in a panic because she'd just fell down in the middle of the parking lot at our house while getting the mail!! Ok, before you start dialing our numbers in a freaked out frenzy, don't worry, mom and baby are a-ok (yes she did go to the dr). But seriously?! This is NOT a call you wanna get from 5hrs away! I am however happy to report that at my first official emergency situation, I was as cool as the other side of the pillow. Instead of hood-sliding across my work truck and driving like a friggin maniac I remained calm and made sure Jenni did the same. SO, am I tooting my own horn? Damn skippy I am!

Other than that excitement, everything is going completely awesome. Well, actually it's completely boring, but in this case that's awesome! Our countdown is officially into the single digits with only 9 short weeks till due-date. On last visit, our doctor informed us that little miss Peanut is going to be a very long baby, and I (to Jen's chagrin) made what I thought was a very funny reference to the delivery being like one of those never-ending handkerchiefs that magicians use. I like to think that the doc found it hilarious and just didn't laugh cause Jenni gave me one of her patented dirty looks. Also, more often than not these days, Jen's tummy resembles what I can only describe as an old-school (not the crappy "wave-reducing") water bed mattress. Which brings up the question, what in the world is she doing in there? I mean come ON, I've heard of "jimmy leg" but sometimes it just seems a bit ridiculous how much she moves around. And I'm very confident that Jen feels the same way because just this morning I received this text, and I quote "Your daughter and I are having a disagreement. She has developed the ability to kick me in the ribs on the front right side and thinks it's appropriate to do so often. I have tried and failed to convince her otherwise. See what you can do".

Now that text first of all cracked me up but, it brought up a few things that I'd like to bring to your attention. First and foremost, did you notice that even though she's not even here yet, when Peanut's doing something "wrong" she's MY daughter. Something tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg with that....Secondly, I've noticed a disturbing new trend. The closer we get to the big day, the more Jen resembles a senile old person. Case in point, some elderly folks "shuffle" more than walk, and now, so does my wife. Some of those in there "prime" complain about the heat, and now, so does my wife. One of the most telling examples, is there are a lot of our seniors that tend to talk to themselves, and now dear readers, so does my wife. Nothing is as strange as watching your partner shuffle through the house fanning herself, and talking to her own stomach as it moves like one of the quarter operated beds in a cheap motel. Oh, and if you're wondering why I put this particular paragraph at the end, it seems these days my beautiful wife is a little more, shall we say "scattered" than normal, so there's a pretty good chance she won't make it this far into the blog ;). Till next time....

Waiting is the hardest part....

You know, normally I would have some humorous opening about how all this baby stuff is completely insane and all that, but this time, really all I have to open with is that I'm truly excited. The closer we get to the big day, the more real it becomes that I'm gonna be a Daddy. For example, for the first time this year I will be getting a father's day card. Sure, I'm fully aware that Jen's gonna go out and buy a totally sappy card and sign Peanut's name to it, but the fact remains that this card will be coming to me...not my dad. That's a heavy thing to comprehend for most guys.

OK, so seriously, Tom Petty said it best when he said the waiting is the hardest part! To put it in perspective, I must tell you that I'm a Christmas JUNKIE!! Almost anyone that knows me, knows this fact. I love everything about Christmas...yes, even in a weird way fruitcake. That being said, having a baby on the way is very much like having a Christmas present that you can look at, shake (although not recommended), watch move around IN THE FRIGGIN WRAPPING, and, for most expecting parents, you even get to know EXACTLY what your getting!! If that isn't hell on Earth, I really don't know what is. It's like staring at your very own official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, AND not being able to play with it!

So to finish up, I wanna leave you with a quick update. Jen is at 29 weeks and still doing absolutely amazing, and according to the Dr, we are having a completely boring pregnancy which for once is a good thing. Shouldn't be having anymore ultrasounds, so the next time I get to see Peanut will be as the say, in living color. Which at this point (for me) couldn't come sooner....

Holy Crap! I only have how long left?

Yes readers, this pretty much seems to be the sentiment that runs through my head on a regular basis lately. We are at week 27 already, can you believe it? I swear it seems that yesterday I was saying to Jenni, "Hey I think I'm gonna start a blog about this pregnancy thing." So to say things are a little crazy are putting it mildly.

First of all, we have a painted nursery with a crib installed and according to Jen's ever increasing bust size, I can say that Peanut will be well fed to say the least. Now, as a man, what I see is that we have a room to put the baby in, a place for her to sleep, and food ready to be given. What Jen sees, is (apparently) the most under prepared room in all of baby history! I've seen a lot of to do lists in my day, but never have I seen a list of lists to make!! You heard me right, the love of my life brought home a list of lists "we" need to make and then of course get rid of in a timely manner. So as we speak, lists of items to buy, clean, assemble, get rid of, hide in storage, and make "baby friendly" are being compiled and given to me to review as if I could possible have anything to add. Which, by the way has yet to happen to this point. All I know is that there were less items being checked and re-checked by the crack team of rocket scientists assembled at NASA for a shuttle launch.

One fun thing that's been going on is that Peanut has really began to try out her dance moves, and (to my delight) is now bashing Jenni's insides with such violent force that I can feel her on the outside now. And if you were wondering, yes apparently I've already annoyed my daughter, due to the fact that the other night while I was talking to her, she decided she'd had enough and kicked me in the mouth. It's here that I must (for reasons of tradition) insert the similarities of a baby moving to the coolest scene in Alien where the little creature busts out of that guys stomach. Which I have to say is one of the best parts of watching Jen's bump wiggle and move. This comparison is a necessary part of pregnancy...well at least for me it is. Just like every time we fly anywhere it's necessary for me to slam down the widow shade, turn to Jen and say, "There's something on the wing, Some...thing on the wing" and you can bet your ass I do my best William Shattner voice while I say it.

So, what else can I say? We are about %98 sure that Peanut's name is gonna be Zoey, about once a week, me and Jen take turns freaking out about the impending "bundle of joy" (mine usually include bolting upright and saying with bulging eyes "what the hell did we do?"). You know, all the quote un-quote normal things that soon to be parents go through. I do know that I'm excited to be going to out parenting class soon. Not because I really wanna learn how to change a diaper, (believe me, I got that part down) but more for the entertainment value of it all. Cause let's be honest, there's no way I'm gonna be able to be in a classroom all day with things like fake baby's and plastic vagina's and not get in trouble somehow. When I mention this to Jen (as I stifle giggles) she works on her evil mom looks and threatens my life. But we both know in our hearts how that day's gonna go....(Psst, don't worry, I promise to write all the juicy details here for your viewing pleasure)

So until next time, I hope you enjoy this update, don't forget to tell all your friends to read this (gotta be famous you know) and remember, tying little action figures on the end of strings attached to your pregnant wife's clothes to make her look like a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is only funny to you... ;)

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.

The Big Day

First of all, I'd like to say something to Peanut. Hey Peanut, just wanna let you know that I love you more than anything in the world and you have to understand that what you're about to read is how I was feeling today and has nothing to do with how I feel about you now. I'm sure you're gonna think your old man is crazy and probably laugh at me but I just wanted to make sure you know how important you are to me. Oh! And what the hell were you thinking trying to leave the house dressed like that?! Are you insane? (Just covering my bases.)

That being said, I wanna tell you dear readers about the crazy day I've just had. We are officially 20 weeks along and Jenni is looking more beautiful each day. I find the growing baby bump absolutely adorable even if she thinks she looks like a freak. Today was our second sonogram, and boy was it a doozie!! I have never wanted to see another penis in my entire life more than I wanted to see one today. However, as the fates may have it, my son did not have a penis. Instead, Erin the tech informed us that we have a beautiful baby girl on the way. And yes, I did make sure and ask her if she was sure he wasn't just being shy and hiding his junk. After she laughed at me, (rude) she informed us that she looks about 5 different times before she actually says anything. Now to say I was shocked would be the understatement of the century!

Don't get me wrong, I am still absolutely in love with Peanut. But in one fail swoop, I went from seeing my boy win the state football championship to thinking about boyfriends, dance lessons, wedding gowns, menstruation (yuck by the way), makeup, boyfriends, prom dresses, the Jonas Brothers (screaming insane girls and their miserable dads that have to take them to the concerts), training bras, boyfriends and every single Disney princess movie that my dear sweet sister made me watch when she was growing up. You know, it's a lot like asking for a steak in a restaurant and them bringing you fish. Sure, both of them are food, but obviously completely different.

Now I know what you all are saying, because I've heard it all before. "She's gonna be the biggest daddy's girl in the world and you're gonna be completely whipped!" I'm fully aware of this fact and that's what has me going crazy as we speak. I can actually feel myself getting older right now. I'm convinced this is God's way of getting me back for all the bad things I've ever done, and boy is He giving it to me good! Just the idea that eventually I'm gonna have to look at some walking erection sitting in my living room talking about how he promises to have her back by curfew makes me want to storm through downtown like Godzilla in Hong Kong. Sure, am I well aware that this is years from now, but this is what happens when you go from "Hey son how many girls did you dance with?" to "I swear to God, that if you don't go put some more clothes on, I will lock you in the basement till you're 30!"

So after sitting in shock for a few hours, and realizing that in fact there is no boy in there, I've made up my mind that having a girl is probably gonna be just as bad as I imagine it, but only because if she turns out to be as beautiful as her mother I'm in for a lot of sleepless nights, and way more gray hair.

And for those of you who are thinking, "Hmm, this post doesn't have near the flair that the others have...." Give me a friggin break, I just found out I'm gonna have a girl!