Somehow this just isn't that funny

So this morning I pop out of bed around 6am, after logging about 5 hours of sleep, and take Wilhelm into the living room for a bit of breakfast. I'm drinking my coffee, he's drinking whatever the hell is in baby formula, and life is good. He and I make faces at one another and burp in each other's faces until Mary gets up and decides we both need baths. Mine was pretty uneventful, but Wills was fun.

Bathing a baby is one of those little pieces of being a parent that you just aren't ready for. First of all, the kid is cold, pissed off, and tries to make a break for it. Even if that break involves rolling off of the counter and onto a tile floor, they will go for it. Good Lord, I've gotta say my kid hates bathtime, and after we were both done screaming at each other I say let him run around and we'll hose him off when company comes to call.

Right now it is about 10:15pm. This is a time that, before I became a parent, I looked at as being the warning bell. I only had another hour and a half before I really had to THINK about getting ready for bed. Now 10:15 had become that mythic time of "wow, you really stayed up past 10pm? You must be exhausted." I found myself napping in my office chair at 5pm. I don't nap. If I nap I wake up feeling queasy and unbalanced. Now if I don't nap I feel irritable, angry, hostile, and somewhat sensitive to outside stimulous. Today for example, they are building a development across the street from our house. And when I say across the street, I mean if I don't put on some clothes in the morning, I end up mooning the crew not 30 yards from my bedroom. I think Mary is handling the lack of sleep better than I am. She only cries once a day.

Anyway, he's sleeping now and will be awake again in less than an hour. At that point he'll want to be entertained until 2am or so. Then he'll sleep till 4, maybe 6am, and get us back up. I love him. I love him alot. If I didn't love him, he'd be living in a crate with our dogs in the back room instead of a crib next to our bed.

There, just letting ya'll know. I apologize if I've ever been smug about someone's new kid. Obviously I have been because God is smacking me around to teach me the errors of your ways. I kid you not, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for stuff I'm sure I haven't done, but may have thought. I'M SORRY! Now could you let my kid sleep through the night? Please?

There you have my scary Halloween post, and if you're thinking of having children, come borrow mine for a day or two and you'll be cauterizing your reproductive organs with a soldering iron and a rusty pair of pliers.

Happy Halloween!

I'LL BE DAMNED!!!

Long skinny legs.
Pale skin.
Big Feet.

I DONE BEEN HAD!


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Fatherhood = Eternal Drowsy

Alright, I've been a parent for exactly 1 week. I now know absolutely nothing about being a parent, other than you don't sleep much any more. Also you don't wear anything nice around your kid, ever.

Wilhelm has got a nasty reach with his urine cannon. Booger got me from the far end of the kitchen while getting a bath. Oh, and bathing a baby is a giant waste of time. Unless that kid is sticky and visibly dirty, let em roll on another day. Its not worth the wee in the face or the ruined duds.

We are also proud owners of a product known as the diaper genie. Whoever the genius who invented this is, should have the freakin Nobel Peace Prize. It is basically a plastic intestine that you put a dirty diaper into, twist the case and it seals off the diaper. Wilhelm doesn't have swamp ass yet, but we are ready for that day, or as ready as a clueless father can be.

Oh, also I can honestly say, my kid's sh*t don't stink! I'm holding out hope it stays that way for a few more days.

Yellow!?! Why is it yellow? Seriously, I'm talking school bus yellow.

So we are still plugging along, we haven't broken our kid, and he hasn't broken us yet.

Although I must admit to watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 lastnight while giving him a bottle and burping him. Does this make me a bad parent, or just someone with bad taste in movies?

Gotta go, Iron Chef is on, and tonight's secret ingredient is dirty diapers.

So the hospital does believe in "Catch and Release"

We arrived at the hospital on Sunday at 6PM.
William was induced at 8:30am Monday, and was suppose to have been induced at 6:30am.
Labor with pushing and running everyone out of the room started at 10pm.
William was born at 11:54pm on Monday.
We were discharged at 1pm Wednesday.

I have stories, and I have over 250 pictures, and I don't have time to do either one properly tonight. I will fill you in on our first evening at home as parents without a battery of nurses at our beck and call.

Got home and fed William.
Put William to bed.
Put Ben and Mary to bed.
Woke up, cooked dinner, changed baby, put baby back to bed.
Fed baby, changed baby, put him on the coffee table as a conversation piece.
Put baby to bed, put Ben and Mary to bed.

So far we have managed to avoid breaking our child, or having to call medical personel for advice. I think we're going to be alright.

I started a new blog for William, so if you don't care for cutesy baby stuff, you don't have to read it here.

CLICK THIS LINK

Alright, some baby pics for those of you that missed it, or like Mary and myself, can't get enough baby.

T Minus 21 hours and counting

Dear Lord, we are going to be parents this time tomorrow. The living room is all cleaned up, as is the kitchen. The bedroom and bathroom just need a little cleaning, and a whole lot of stuff is headed back to the storage building. The car is to be washed, the baby seat installed, and the freakout to be commenced.




So lastnight Mary and I went to Montana's for a little meal I like to consider, "THE LAST MEAL WHEN IT WILL JUST BE THE TWO OF US". It was really nice. We had good food, and good conversation. When we got back home Mary was getting a little bit ready to go ahead and have the baby. I call this shot "I'm Miserable".



Well, we are heading to the hospital to check in this evening, and won't be blogging anything for a few days. The next time you hear from me, I'll be a dad. Yeah, it scares me too.

Panic Attack

ahem...












JUMPING JESUS ON A POGO STICK! THIS IS MY LAST WEEKEND BEFORE I BECOME A FATHER!

uh, I guess that's about it. Thanks

At the Doctor's Office

I can't express how much fun it is to be a guy at the OB/GYN office. Today Mary had a 2:45pm appointment with her Dr., and since we are having a baby in less than a week I thought I'd tag along and see if I needed to be aware of anything. So we stroll in on time, and let me tell you guys, there is nothing worth reading at the lady doctor's place.

If you like Women's Golf Digest, Martha Stewart Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and Redbook, then budy you are going to love the magazine selection. Me, I'm strolling through the doors with the latest issue of Guns & Ammo. A fine publication if ever you wanted to know which gun would be best employed to deter a guest from liberating your property. Let me tell ya, I could have brought in a "Busty" and a bottle of lotion into the waiting room and received less hostile looks from the patrons of this office. Seriously, one woman was trying to get as far away from me and not look as though she were, as if I would draw down and plug her where she stood.

I picked up on this vibe and rolled up my fine periodical to watch some TV. Gotta say, some cool guy must have been in the waiting room before I arrived because it was tuned to DIY network. This is a premium channel that we don't get, so I was sucked into a bathroom remodel and not paying attention to my surroundings. I was brought back to earth when from across the waiting room a large middle aged hispanic woman called out to Mary,

COW: "How many are you having?"

Mary: "Just one."

COW: "My goodness you sure are BIG! How far along are you?"

Mary: "We're delivering on Monday."

COW: "Wow you sure are BIG!"

At this point I am glad I am holding a magazine of guns, and not any actual firearms. I think Mary was about to use my rolled up copy to give this woman a trachiotomy, and I'd have held down the cow to let her. I've never been pregnant, and God willing never will be (I'm a good boy don'tcha know) but I can't imagine a late term woman enjoying some total stranger yelling out how big you are.

So sonogram looks good, we're going to check again on Thursday to see if any last minute changes need to be made. All in all not too bad a visit, until we go to check with the desk to confirm our appointment and this hairy cow exclaims yet again how big my wife is.

It's alright, I know there is a special place in hell for this woman. And honey, you're positively petite.

Dear Lord, is the old "Sins of the Father" bit?

Net Nanny
Cyber Patrol
Taking away the FREAKING KEYBOARD!

I know it is years away, but I don't think I'm going to let William on the Information Super Highway till he gets his drivers license.


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The kitchen crippled me

I don't know if you can tell in the pictures, but we have a new stove. Like the sink, you can tell it is quality due to its extreme weight. I haven't looked up the exact weight (because I don't care enough to do so, and if I find out what it really weighs it takes away my ability to exagerate) but it's alot.

I went on Columbus day to the Lowes, because I was tired of waiting for Home Depot's help, and bought a nice shiny glass top stove. When I got home I backed the trailer to the door, grabbed my two wheeler, and put that sucker in the kitchen. It was while dropping the stove off of the trailer that something in my back seems to have popped, and not in the nice "oh yeah, that feels good" kind of pop. No, this was in the "dear Lord on high, please tell me my body didn't just make that noise, and why am I seeing sparks in left eye?"

I have been laid up with a bad back since Monday and everytime I think it's getting better, I wake up crippled up like an octogenarian who was out in the rain yesterday, busted his ass on a skate board, and then slept on a pile of rocks. Frankly I'm tired of hearing "Honey, you gonna make it?" instead of "Good morning handsome, virile, not falling apart husband".

Due to this unplanned injury (not that I sit down with my calendar thinking "hmmm, tuesday at 1:15pm I have time to squeeze in a twisted ankle") we are not going to have the tile finished in the dining room or the bar area before young William arrives to party like its his birthday. While bummed, we are glad to start the "nesting cleaning".

If you are unfamiliar with this, and God knows I was, it is when you freak out and decide that every surface in your house is a disgusting breeding ground for SARS, EBOLA, ANTHRAX, CLEFT PALLETS, and RUNNY NOSES! Yes we are in full blown sanitize it mode. What, you may ask does this mean. To give you a clue I vacuumed the freaking ceiling! Swear on a stack of free Gideon Bibles I used my shop vac to actually clean the ceiling. The part that really upset me was you could tell where I did it! I think that sucker is 3 or 4 shades whiter. I'll check with my Crest teeth whitening chart for the final number. Yep, 4 shades whiter. Maybe I should have just stuck the teeth film on the ceiling... never mind, the muscle relaxers are making me silly.

Speaking of muscle relaxers, if any of you are in a Dr. kind of way, is it safe to take 3 yr old perscriptions for anti inflamation and muscle relaxers, or should I call poison control now?

I know I still haven't put up any new pics, and for that I'm not sorry. I'm busy. But if that chapped your butt in any way I hope this will make up for it.

I'm sure there is a moral to this, but I'm too looped to care. Enjoy.


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So Its Columbus Day

1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and 514 years later I put my kitchen back into working order. That is correct, the sink, dishwasher, stove, fridge, food, dishes, and all the other crap is back in the confines of the kitchen and out of Williams room to be.

Unfortunately the tools and other crap needed for the remodel are back there now. This means that when William arrives he will not have his own room. Mary and I have reconciled ourselves with this development but I feel I've failed to prepare for my kid.

KITCHEN PHOTOS!!!!

I'm not posting pictures from the send off party or of P and S's new baby yet. Mainly because I have a deep cut on the tip of my middle finger and it hurts to type. I won r what it woul look lik if I i n't us my mi l fing r. Oh yeah, its on my left hand. So right now I'm wiped out and will get back to you soon.

Just so you know

I haven't forgotten about this blog. I just have been a bit busy lately. In the last 3 days I've had a combined 18 hours of sleep. This isn't so good for me. Mary has been sick and the kitchen has been getting worked on. I have finished painting almost all of the cabinet doors and found out that the hinges we bought don't fit correctly. Great, now I've got doors with a gap on them. So I have to take down all the doors I have already hung and redrill the frames to hang the doors so they don't look like ass. Sorry about the swearing, I don't know if I've done that before on the blog.

Anyway, I put the stove and fridge back in, hooked up the water, trimmed out the window and tile transitions, hung my light fixtures, and installed my base boards. I now have to rehang and hang the doors, install new light switches and a new outlet, finish tiling the floor, and I'm calling this pig done.

Yes, I am aware that I still haven't posted new pictures from the send off party, my friends new baby, or any of the kitchen pics.

No, I haven't forgotten and will get them posted at some point in the future.

Yes, I am freaked out about being a father, and it hasn't happened yet. Everybody tells me how I'm going to be a great dad. I hope they are right, but I won't know till I get the person that makes me a dad. What if I suck at it? I mean c'mon, I screwed up scrambling eggs a few years back. No harm, no foul, just go get more eggs right? What happens when you screw up a kid? They don't come with an extended warranty. The take awhile to make. You can't run across town to kids r us and get a replacement 3yr old if you forgot to kid proof something.

I've already thought back on the things I did as a child, and am amazed I lived to be almost 30. Now the thought of my kid riding a bike makes me want to vomit. The idea of letting them go anywhere without me to make sure no molestors, drunk drivers, ninjas, and terrorists are lurking around is just not conceivable.

In less than 3 weeks we are giving birth to a bobble head that cries and can't communicate what it wants or needs. Pardon me, I've got to puke now.

Yeah, I know

I am running behind again, and for a very good reason. I'm busy. I mean like one armed paper hanger busy. I have pics, but you can't see them tonight because I have to get back up in a few hours. I promise to get the pics of Jakes send off party and some other thing we did recently, as well as updated pics of the kitchen.

In the mean time enjoy the future of parenting.


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Mary, your earplugs are waiting.