Oh, hello!
I'm checking in to see how you are. We are GREAT, honestly loving life and cherishing this precious time together in which we are front and center to all of our children's developmental picadillos and developments. They are both at SUCH a fun age.
Although, honestly, what ISN'T a fun age to be quarantined with?
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I honestly don’t see the problem with children cursing. I have a filthy mouth and I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I will likely have a child with a filthy mouth. I should preface this with the fact that I want my child to know how to curse properly. Cursing can be an easy escape for a person with a lack-luster vocabulary, but it can also be the pristine cherry on top of a beautiful sundae. “Mommy, I made a stinky in my pants,” is a fine sentence. However, “Mommy, I shit pants,” tugs on the heart strings a bit more. For starters it’s funny and secondly, it’s more accurate. A “shit” really lets you know what you are getting into. A “stinky” could be pants that have old mayonnaise on them, but a shit is a shit.
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Meaning, stuffs mixed into butter. Natch. 
This is the recipe I wrote to go with Matt's epic bread yesterday, but really the bread is so good that plain butter is perfect. but I had some fresh sage and frozen cherries and omgkerrygold, so why not? It takes five extra minutes of your life and compound butter is SO legit.
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Guys! We have a huge treat today. My friend Matt is taking over the blog to 1. teach you how to make bread (his. is. awesome.) and tell you about a fundraiser he's a part of for Make-A-Wish. Spoiler alert: if you donate you get bread from him! Matt is one of our oldest friends and one of the better people I know in this world. Read. Make Bread. Donate! 
Tomorrow we have a compound butter to go WITH the bread, so there's that, too.
I always think back fondly to making bread with my grandmother and the delicious smell of crackling crusts emanating from the kitchen. I’ve never gotten over that memory, which drives me into the kitchen every week to make another bread.
Many people mistakenly believe that making bread is difficult and time-consuming. While the end result of opening your oven to a rich, homemade loaf does take time, much of that time you don’t even have to do anything. Just let the dough do its thing and manipulate it as needed during every step.
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On Saturday two of my best friends threw me a baby shower (it feels selfish to say that like...they threw the baby a shower and I'm just her representative) and it was lovely and wonderful and I'm going to tell you all about it. The party was in our neighborhood, so before we headed over my sisters and mom came over to take some pictures because 1. we didn't at the beach this year, 2. we were all showered and looked pretty good and 3. we won't all be together at Thanksgiving, which is when we usually have this ritual of kind of fighting about pictures but then being really happy we took some. 
It's always kind of a process.
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So, if you're totally not into pumpkin and were kind of let down at the last pumpkin recipe we did, I'm really sorry. 
This may produce the same effect. 
BUT, if you're OK with trusting me that this pumpkin flavor is super duper mild and adding pumpkin to your food is healthy and delicious and also there is BUTTER AND CHEESE INVOLVED, then we might be able to make this work.
I think this is the last pumpkin recipe I'll share this year, and, while I realize that its pretty cliche I seriously do like adding it to stuff for the nutritional value, AND because if you use it in creamy things like risotto or mac and cheese you can use less of the other, less-healthy creamy stuff. So everyone wins.
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Jay just got the courage up to write about the night in birth class that included birth videos. On the drive home that night he was QUIET, and it took awhile for him to process what he'd seen.
Week three of birthing class was intense. While the first two weeks of class were lecture based with group conversations, week three focused on videos. Unedited, raw, no green-screen digital effects, real-as-shit video. These videos should be shown in high schools everywhere. They'd be the best condom commercials ever. These are films that John Carpenter, Sam Rami, Eli Roth, and Wes Craven would have been proud of. I remember the first time I ever saw a porno movie and being excited to experience first hand what I was witnessing. It would take me many, many years to remotely come close to the action I saw in that video, and so I guess part of the shock of these birthing videos is the immediacy of birth. While these birthing videos were just as graphic and moan-filled as any porn I’ve seen, they were also just as terrifying as any horror movie I’ve seen. It’s scary because you don’t want to see the woman you love be in pain. It’s terrifying because you can’t do anything except be calm (which seems fucking impossible), supportive, and try to keep her as relaxed as possible. I totally understand a doula’s purpose. I would love a coach just for me. When a pitcher is struggling in a baseball game, the manager will walk out to the mound and help calm the pitcher down and reassure him of his ability. I need that in the delivery room. I want that in the delivery room. “Jay, get your head in the game delivery room. She needs you in there. Stop crying, be a man! Now get in there and be a positive, caring support system for your beautiful wife.” YOU GOT IT MAKE-BELIEVE DOULA!
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“The female body is designed to succeed.” That is the first bit of information that our birthing class instructor told us, which is why it is written across the top page of my notepad and underlined. While this is great news for Lindsay, it doesn’t say much about my success rate. The law of averages puts my performance squarely in the shitter, struggling not to fail and implode. This birthing class helps provide us with a clear (and I mean crystal clear) understanding of what the birthing experience will be like. Lindsay is the star of this production and I’m fulfilling the role of being a stage Mom. I am to be abundantly supportive, have snacks ready at moment’s notice, and prevent myself from saying anything stupid or alarming like, “Honey, you think they could perform a c-section with a chainsaw? Like if they HAD to.” But, this class is really wonderful. It’s been great to receive information in a positive, supportive environment that is totally cool with smart ass remarks. Allow me to share some of my notes with you.
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So, yesterday at the midwives (it feels like every damn day, I swear), Jay was recording my weight and was all "so, almost 20 pounds!" And I didn't care, but I also felt the need to say, because it's true, "I don't feel like I've gained 20 pounds." And he said VERY quickly, "you definitely don't look like you have!"
And I just stared at him thoughtfully and said "there is literally nothing else you could have said in that moment that would have been ok. Well done." ...
29 weeks. 
I've said it about a thousand times, but I'm in this funny place where moment to moment I alternate between holy shit this baby is coming tomorrow I'm not ready and omg this baby is never coming out of me what the heck.
So I'm super calm and confident, is what I'm saying.
One of the most ridiculous things about being pregnant in this era is that you have so. much. information at your fingertips via the Google machines that we all are so addicted to. I spend tons of time reading anything I can get my hands on about pregnancy, and the most ridiculous things have come up in some of my questions and searches. I use the midwives for lots of questions, but my questions come up so often that I just can't always wait for the experts to tell me.
So, naturally, I make myself into an expert by reading lots of stuff, because that's practically like med school.
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That’s just not a baby bump under my wife’s shirt. Apparently, it’s also her Gas Tank for Home Improvement. Pregnancy has turned my wife into a sexy Bob Vila, with just a touch less body hair. The bigger her belly gets, the more astonished I am at the house projects she takes on. In the last month I have seen my pregnant wife paint our little girl’s nursery, paint our bathroom, and steam clean the carpet in our entire house. To see her do it is amazing, and amazingly hot. I watched her pull a massive carpet steamer out of the back her car and I got weak in the knees. I suddenly related to those housewives that fawn over their pool boy. That hot pregnant blonde woman in yoga pants, powerlifting a Bissel Carpet Steamer is All Mine! I think I undid a few buttons on my shirt and held a glass of lemonade to my chest as she entered the house. “I declare Mrs. Hastings!” Preparing for the arrival of our child has really brought out Lindsay’s Mom Strength. Her desire to have clean carpets somehow pushed her to deadlift that machine out of her car, and I can only hope that power will transfer to me, should I ever need her to lift a car off my torso....
Preparing for the arrival of your child feels like awaiting contact from aliens. Instead of wrapping my head in tinfoil, writing “Welcome” on my roof, and trying to prevent an anal probe, I’ve been reading baby books, buying over-priced furniture, and trying not to freak out. “The Happiest Baby on the Block” is the book I’ve been reading. I’m trying to get ahead of the tsunami of information I don’t know, and until very recently, did not care about. A crying baby is what I fear the most. I’ve seen enough Lifetime movies to know that a crying baby can send you over the edge and directly to prison. Soothing the baby is the technique I want to master. Swaddle, Shhh, Side/Stomach, Swing, Suck. Those are the 5 S’s of getting your little devil angel to shut the fuck up. It actually makes sense. Swaddle = wrap tightly. This is essentially the first step in kidnapping. Tie the little girl up so she knows resistance is futile. Shhhhh = literally, “Shut the fuck up”, but in a very friendly, caring way. Side/Stomach = render the little human defenseless like a turtle on its back. Swing = hypnotize. Instead of following a moving watch, you just put the little critter in a swing and like an infomercial host would say, “Set It And Forget It!” Suck = boob in the mouth. This makes the most sense. I can’t remember the last time I was fussy with a tit in my face and/or mouth. Pretty much solves all my problems.
Having a broken leg has been a blessing and a curse. While I have been forced to sit on the sidelines, it has also restricted my voice from being heard on the playing field; which is a good thing. Lindsay has done an amazing job creating the nursery. She has painted, moved furniture, cleaned carpets, and organized furniture purchases. I have tried to remain supportive and try not to be an opinionated S.O.B. Lindsay is awesome at using a mixture of hand-me-downs, slightly used, and new items for our little angel’s new room. I’m really happy with the way it’s all coming together, and this broken leg has prevented/helped me not lift one finger in helping!
While visiting baby super stores such as Buy Buy Baby and Baby’s R Us, I’ve noticed one truth. Every single man being lead through that store has no clue what is going on. We are herded, directed, and instructed on what is important, why it is so, and what we need to concentrate on. While I want to know how that breast pump works and if it can be used for any recreation activities, I’m told that is not important and to focus on bottles. Apparently, babies are now particular to bottles and not must have at least three types of bottles to choose from. The same goes for pacifiers. If this isn’t an absolute scheme from the horrible people at Gerber and Johnson & Johnson, then I don’t know what is. We have a plethora of diapers, wraps, strollers, car seats, powders, creams, and apparently it’s a guessing game if the kid is going to come out of the womb band loyal to a specific item. “Oh father, I shan’t be caught sucking on a Soothies pacifier! Whatever will my daycare peers think of me?” Luckily, Lindsay has been pretty good about not buying into most of the marketing fraud directed at parents. However, it is a tough pitch to dodge, as they make you feel like you don’t love your child and you’re willing to let them die in order to save a few bucks.
Maternity clothes look just like any other clothes, unless you get to see them being put on. It’s the same mentality with hotdogs. Delicious but you don’t want to see how they’re made. I find it so funny that Lindsay can look like a super model walking down the street, but then when we get ready for bed I get to see the magic that holds up her pants. They look so strange and weird. I honestly don’t know why fat men haven’t stolen this technology for themselves. “Do you constantly find yourself losing circulation below your waistline? Would you like to eat your way to an orb shape? Are you scare your penis might get a sunburn? Well, keep on eating and stretch on those “skinny” jeans out with the new all male Belly Band!” With football season right around the corner this makes so much sense. I think I just found a business idea. It’s not like this fat country is going to start losing weight. We invented the Double Down for Christ’s sake. The name Belly Band is taken, so I’m thinking…”Gut Buster”, or the “Freedom Pant”. I’m serious about this. Screw saving for college money, I’m going to get the patent started!
