It's fall! I can't believe it. I'm not entirely sure where this year has gone, but it flew, as they all seem to these days.
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It's fall! I can't believe it. I'm not entirely sure where this year has gone, but it flew, as they all seem to these days.
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Jay pretty much talks to Beck nonstop. When they're together and I'm working or doing other stuff he just chatters away to her, and usually she rewards him with coos and smiles, which means he keeps doing it. We're only 2 months in, but the gems that have come out of that man so far are quite the force to be reckoned with. I imagine that when Beck starts talking she'll think that it's completely normal to narrate the world 24/7 with no breaks even to breathe, but I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
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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!
By now, if you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you know that I snapped my tibia and fibula in half last week. Lindsay did an amazing job of capturing the play by play commentary of the event, and I’m here now to add some color. I wish I could embellish and sprinkle in some creative license, but that ship has sailed. I wish I could tell you that I shattered my leg while saving a bus load of children from drowning, rescuing the elderly from a blazing nursing home fire, or hell, even a kickball game would be less embarrassing than the truth. Because the truth is my left leg cannot tolerate the weight and force of my body descending 5 feet into shallow water. Yep, that is the universal sign for, “time to lose some weight, you fat ass.” When uneven earth and your body weight remove you from walking for a couple of months, it’s time to reconsider your diet and recreational activities.
Allow me to recap what adrenaline and pain medication did not steal from my memory of this entire experience. I hope it will be as therapeutic for me as it will be entertaining for you....
Well. After 19 weeks we've got quite a little list going of all the things that are surprising to Jay about pregnancy and impending parenthood, but mostly he just comes up with the most ridiculous things to say. I would also like you to know that the following picture was taken on the exam table at our very first midwife visit with his legs in the air as if there were stirrups, which there weren't.
When I got to around 13 weeks and we started telling people we had to go through the list of places where I work, and one of them was the yoga studio where I work and Jay practices several times a week. We only "told" one or two people, but of course those people would talk to Jay or me and people would overhear and every class we attended for the first few weeks felt like we were "telling" new people. When my friend Julia heard she looked at Jay with what can only be described as disgust and just said
you dog.
Now, if you know Julia you know that she's really quiet, amazingly fit and can stand on her head all the live-long day if asked to, and generally says hi and bye to and from class. She's very nice, but doesn't chat a ton. For some reason, her reaction was hilarious to me.
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So, I had the same plan I do every year for 4/1, to put up some lie - but pregnancy and the like are just strange things to joke about to me, and I feel that we are SO distrusting on this day because of the precedent set for April Fools. So, instead, I've compiled a list of some of the funniest jokes you could play on someone today. Do them all!
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Guys.
One of my fav things is reading back over some of the original stuff I wrote here and DAMN a lot has happened since we started this blog! I was only a semester into grad school when we opened up shop, and I had totally forgotten that Jay participated in my faux therapy sessions that we had to do in some early coursework.
Hilarious.
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So, we went on a cruise. A Carnival cruise! Carnival Fantasy from Charleston, to be exact. We left on Thanksgiving Day and got back the Tuesday after, which means we had 6 days and 5 nights of just being with the two of us.
That part was probably my favorite part of the entire trip.
The boat itself was great, the food was fine, the docked days were GREAT (but that's a whole separate set of pictures), but really really being away from your house and INTERNET and CELL SERVICE is my new "do this to save your marriage" counseling tip, for realsies.
To clarify, our marriage doesn't need saving. But who couldn't use a little boost every once in awhile?
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So. You know how there's a thing in karma and life where REALLY AND TRULY the most ridiculous things only happen when 1. you're sober or 2. tons of other people are watching?
I've noticed a pattern in my life and have determined that this is the truth.
Example: I only spill beer (or anything) after I've had 1. After 6? I'm allllllll careful. The first drink, though, sometimes BEFORE THE FIRST SIP, is when I'm really confident in my sober motor skills and end up dumping gallons of expensive drink all over myself, cell phones, carpet, you name it.
We had a similar situation last week when we hosted a party for FIFTY PEOPLE IN OUR HOUSE. The party itself was absolutely wonderful; we did it for an out-of-town friend who came in for a surprise for his dad, and it was crowded but lovely and I think everyone had a nice time.
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