Babies! It's what's for dinner....

What is it about a cute baby that makes seemingly normal individuals turn into cannibals? Now you may think I've went off my rocker here but it's true. When confronted with an adorable baby, many people's reactions land in this realm. As I sit here and write this, the echos of statements like "God I could just eat her up!", and for those of you whose vernacular tends to lean more towards the country, there's the always disturbing, "I'd like to sop her up with a biscuit". Plus, my personal favorite that came from my sis-in-law's dad, "If your daddy would let me, I'd take my teeth out and just chew on them cheeks." It's not as though I think these people are actually gonna eat the Zoester, it's just a trend that I can't explain....And this trend is not isolated to just people I know, Jen and I are just as guilty! One of the favorite pastimes in our house is when Jen has the "eating" of baby feet, and then we sit and wonder why, after our beautiful little girl realized she had feet, she has decided the best place for them would be in her mouth. I myself enjoy the occasional side of baby ribs, and in turn Zoey laughs her head off when I do so. Is it something in our genetic makeup that causes us to feel this way? As far as I know, other things don't have the same effect. I've never once said, or heard someone say anything about eating a new puppy or kitten, or for that matter, I've never even looked at a baby calf and thought MAN! I'd love to eat the rib eye right off you!! (Although, arguably the last one would seem like the most acceptable one.) I'm curious if subconsciously we all think that ugly babies would taste horrible and that's why when we see them the only things that come to mind are our pathetic attempts at compliments like, "My what a cute little outfit he's wearing.", or "Boy she's such an observant little thing." when really we want to look at the parents and say "Holy Shit!! Did you drop him?!" And before you start commenting on how there's no such thing as an ugly baby, may I remind you that it's ok to admit it, we all know it's true, and besides, your secret's safe with me dear readers....

On the upside, I'm ecstatic that everyone wants to eat my darling little girl, especially considering the alternative. That being having a little ugo for a child. Now of course I have taken flack from my beloved for pointing out this fact but hey! when you got it flaunt it right? However bad it may seem, pretty people get all the breaks, so why wouldn't I be happy that people think of chewing off her little fingers instead of vomiting a little every time the light hits her....As a matter of fact, I made two different people promise me that when Zoey arrived they would let me know if she was as adorable as I (of course) thought she was, or if we had a "Visually Challenging" baby on our hands. And yes, if you were wondering that is the politically correct way to say ugly now, according to www.newspeakdictionary.com. Thankfully, we have a beautiful (delicious) little girl and couldn't be happier!! She's already helped us get better tables at restaurants, faster service from cashiers, and who knows, maybe one of these days, my adorable little girl will be famous and can take care of her old man....well a guy can dream can't he?

Till next time dear readers.....

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.

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....