Friday, August 31, 2012

Home Schooling

Ever the teacher, it seems that my wife is always finding the teaching moments in my mistakes.

Last night she lured me into the kitchen with a sweet tone and encouraging words.  I walked in unsuspecting and eager only to find that class was in session, I was promptly given a lesson on the placement of the dogs’ water bowl.  I had set the bowl much too close to the electrical outlet, which could be dangerous. 

As you will be a dad soon, she said, in her courteous teacher voice,  this is one of those things of which you will need to be more careful about.  I nodded in agreement, while in my mind tried to imagine the course of events taking place where the water splashes into the outlet, shooting an electrical bolt from the socket, thus harming the baby.

I’m not a quick study, but I know better than to argue with a pregnant woman’s logic. I have learned that lesson and passed the test.  To her, my missteps and mistakes have become opportunities to learn, and boy do I love that...

I’ve always been messy/sloppy/careless/impulsive/mindless, but now I’m reminded every step of the way that the pot-handle I left sticking out is a potential disaster waiting to happen. That plate on the edge of the counter?  You guessed it, it seems my unobservant gaffs are ticking time bombs for an infant.

I had no idea that I was living so dangerously.  I had come to think of myself as a law-abiding, decent person who occasionally forgets to cap the toothpaste.  But here I find that I may cause some serious damage with my slipshod laundry habits and negligent dish placement.

All kidding aside, I understand that I will have to adjust to a baby being in the house as most of these accidents are preventable.  I will have to think like an adult, and luckily I have my wife to help me along, even if I do sometimes stick my tongue out at her when she's not looking.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Worry Wart

I’m excited as ever about my wife’s now rapidly growing mid-section as it is a constant reminder that there is in fact, a baby in there.  But as Week 18 approaches and the physical changes become more and more noticeable, I’m finding that I have developed a fear of her falling.  The slightest movement and I become on edge, looking for any obstacles or dangers lurking in her path.
As we walked our dogs yesterday, I was unable to have a conversation, constantly telling her to, Watch the steps, be careful on the hill, lookout for that rock!   As she pointed out, it seems that I’ve become a bit of a worry wart.  She’s been pregnant for four and a half months, but as her belly has grown, my instincts have kicked into high gear.
Not that she doesn't have problems of her own.  Finding clothes that still fit or shoes that are comfortable is an everyday chore. And then there is, well, other things, such as her little accident at school yesterday.  Let’s see, how did she put it; I sneezed and a little bit of pee came out.  That’s my girl…
So as we continue on and I learn about things that I never, ever thought I would learn about (urine leakage during pregnancy), I will remain as open minded as possible. We're roaming into uncharted territory in our relationship, and as we shop for belly bands, loose fitting clothes, and possibly adult diapers, I will do my best to ease my wife's discomfort when times get difficult, and fight the new instinct to jump up and run from her when she sneezes…

Monday, August 27, 2012

Getting Out

If you ask me, I would say I have been very supportive of my wife and her needs as we approach the half way mark of her pregnancy. Sure, I complain from time to time, but I have massaged feet, participated in looking at baby strollers and car seats that are indistinguishable, and for the most part done what's been asked of me, which to be honest, is not a lot considering she's the one doing all of the work.

But Saturday I realized that I had to get out. I'm not sure if it's all of the estrogen in the house, the netflix on the couch, or just cabin fever, but as we were in WalMart and I found myself getting much too excited over a salsa bowl, I realized that I was losing my sanity.

I called up a couple of friends and asked if they wanted to grab a drink somewhere, just like old times. We arrived at the bar around six, much to early for the younger crowd, and sat amongst the regulars and old timers. We talked about guy stuff; sports, music, jokes that would make my wife roll her eyes, and other trivial topics. Basically, I had a great time being a guy.

I would love to tell you how exciting and out of control we were as we relived our glory years, that we raged into the wee hours as the night resembled that of a beer commercial.  In reality it was almost sad, I quickly noticed after two beers that I didn't have the stamina of my younger years, and although it was great to catch up with the fellas and have a few beers (perhaps a few too many), I was home around the time that I used to head out.

But there was a price to pay for my venturing out.  I awoke to the sound of the vaacuum cleaner sometime around 8 am.  From there I learned that I would be scrubbing the bathroom toilet and floor, which I did, because you can't win an argument with a pregnant woman, and even if you win, you lose.

Was it worth it?  I'm not sure...

My evening out taught me a few lessons: 

  1. I've really become a lightweight.
  2. You have to pay to play, as nothing is free anymore.
  3. Cleaning the bathroom floor hungover is no way to start a Sunday morning.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Smooth Sailing

Today begins Week 17 in our journey to life.  I am still confused excited as ever but I do have some questions about the smooth sailing of the second trimester.
From what I’ve gathered this is normally the time when things calm a bit as the mother-to-be starts to adjust to her body’s changes.  As everyone is different, I’m sure that every pregnancy is different, but I can’t help but shutter at the thought of the third trimester when things begin picking up steam. 
In reality, it's not all that bad, but at this point if my wife’s head spun completely around on her neck I would not even do a double take.  I wish there was more I could do to help but my Google searches have proved fruitless when looking for a ways to speed up a pregnancy.
I give her all the credit in the world as there is no way that a man could do this, I am completely sure of that.  I cry for days when I come down with the common cold, I can’t imagine how I would deal with morning sickness, cramps, and gulp, discharges.  Moving on.
On top of everything else she's dealing with, the school year has begun and she has a classroom full of 7 year olds to teach, so I think I will cut her some slack on the mood swings, exhaustion and four letter words being thrown around the house.
On a final note, as I learn by mistake, I now know that you never call a pregnant woman a psycho, no matter what actions point to the contrary.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Old Timers...

My partying days had long become scarce before my wife’s pregnancy, but life at our house is quite subdued these days to say the least.  I’m not at the get off my lawn stage, but the other night we had a yawning contest as there was still a pink glow in the sky as the sun was setting. 

From time to time my wife makes fun of me for my old man ways.  Just the other day as I brought in the mail after work I noticed an AARP mailer with my name on it.  I shook the envelope as I wondered why in the world someone as young as me was receiving such old people mail.
I noticed a quizzical look from her.
“Let’s see…you have subscriptions to Reader’s Digest and Saturday Evening Post.   What did you expect?  Not to mention those black socks you’re wearing with your shorts right now….”
“Whatever”  I stormed off, this time acting more like an 8 year old than an old timer.  That’ll show her.
Later that same night as my wife had been long asleep on the couch, I watched Jailhouse Rock on TCM.  As I lay there on the couch, I started to think to myself, Man, Elvis has still got it…he’s still hip after all these years. I watched the entire movie and actually enjoyed it.  
As the credits rolled, I looked over at my wife and then I realized what she had said may have had a bit truth to it, I was watching black and white movies on my couch on Saturday night. All that was missing was a bag of Werthers in my lap.

So as our DVR continues to fill with shows and movies that air after 10 pm, we will enjoy our rest while we can, as we both know it will come to an abrupt end soon enough.

Saturday, August 18, 2012


How could you let this happen?
My grandfather had a deep baritone voice that stopped you in your tracks. If he was upset with you, there was no question about what you had done. There was no Who me? routine.  You knew and you regretted it immediately.

My dad wasn't the strictest parent by any means, but I always knew when I had crossed the line. If he was upset, then chances are I had messed up pretty good.

Maybe the men in my family soften each generation. Maybe there was too much talk about feelings in the eighties.  Regardless, if I have a son he's well on his way to becoming a marshmallow by the time I get through with him. I have got to learn to say no. 

If we're judging by how I discipline my dogs I don't stand a chance. I'm not saying I'm a push over, I'm saying that I've been shoved down a cliff and covered with mud. I need to toughen up, and quick.  Perhaps I should lock myself in the house one Saturday and watch John Wayne movies or check to see if Patton is streaming on Netflix, because I'm downright ridiculous.

For example, our dog Bruce was well overdue for a bath the other day. Bruce, the dog my wife calls Brucie Woosie Head, which of course, I allow.  We gave Woosie, I mean Bruce a bath, which is always traumatic for him, but he had been long enough without to the point he had begun to get that just rolled in poop smell that he works so hard to acquire.

Anyway, as we turned on the hose and began to give him a good soaking, he looked up with those sad Precious Moments eyes and I started to hear that Sara McLachian song from the SPCA commercial in my head.  I held firm, he needed a bath and a bath he was going to get.

As I fought through it, telling myself to toughen up, we locked eyes again. Okay, okay, rinse him off! I told my wife, We're killing him, I can't take it anymore!!! Rinse him off! Get it off him!  I screamed as if he was covered in Agent Orange.

We rinsed him off, making sure the painful soap was thoroughly rinsed.No harm done.  I walked towards the house to turn the hose off, looking back at my dog who was rolling around in the grass, with a bone in his mouth looking happier than ever.  Yeah, I don't stand a chance...

Friday, August 17, 2012

Where Is My Wife?

Somewhere the woman I married just last summer is being held hostage.  The gentle, soft-spoken wonderful woman whose bright smile always made everything wonderful is tied up in an abandoned warehouse as a ransom note has been lost in the mail.

In her place is a 5'2" 2nd grade school teacher that's been living in our house...and I'm absolutely terrified of her.
She almost killed the cat this morning.  As a scratching noise was heard in the living room I went to go check on things as to make sure the cat wasn’t clawing our new couch, but my wife, or her stand in rather, was all over it. 

The house shook with the force of a class 5 tornado as what sounded like a truck came crashing into the room with a roar that was heard two streets over.  It was her, she scooped the cat up and I was sure he was a goner.  NOoooooo! she bellowed from the depths of which I had no idea existed.  Instinctively, I took a few steps back, attempting to get out of the line of fire.  I noticed the dogs had already abandoned ship leaving me to fend for myself.
After giving the cat and I a look that would give Seal Team Six the shivers, everything fell silent.  She walked back down the hall to the bedroom to continue getting dressed.  After catching my breath, I let the cat, with his 8 remaining lives, outside and noticed the dogs had taken shelter in the sun room. Nice job guys... 
If you don't see any new posts, please check on me....

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


I will be very hesitant about giving my son or daughter a nickname. As cute as these little pet names can be, it can lead to some serious confusion later in life.  For instance, today at work I was asked a simple question, simple to most people at least.

What is your name again?

I instinctively began to say Pete, but then remembered my work badge says Shawn. While this process was going on in my head, she was undoubtedly thinking that I was a bumbling idiot who couldn't come up with his own name.

I have my sister to thank for this...

I was named Shawn but that wasn't working for her so she took it upon herself to change my name and in doing so changed my life forever.

As the story goes, when I was two, maybe three years old my sister started calling me Pete.  Why you ask?  Because she thought I looked like Peter Brady from The Brady Bunch.  I guess this means I had three choices, Greg, Peter, or Bobby.

My birth certificate, driver's license, and social security card all read Shawn, but anyone who knows me will forever call me Pete, it's my name, and that's fine with me.

But ever since school it has always lead to the same series of questions that has become all too familiar.  Where did Pete come from? Is that your middle name? 

At times I've even been called a hybrid combination of Shawn/Pete.  Another lady at work took to calling me Bobby.  Horrified, but knowing the answer, I asked her why.  Because you look like Bobby Brady, you know from----Please Stop! Is this a joke? I'm cursed by a TV show.

Some people get to choose their nicknames, others are earned.  I got mine because my sister couldn't pronounce the letter S.  And to make matters worse, she has recently informed me that if we have a boy, she will call him, you guessed it, Repeat.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

What I'm Reading.

The Man With The Gold
 As I continue my impossible quest to learn all things parental, I have tried to stay focused on reading material that will guide me as I prepare to become a father.  But it’s hard not to get sidetracked, I was recently at a local thrift store when tucked away in the corner, a book caught my eye.
As I began thumbing through the pages, I quickly surmised that I had stumbled upon a great treasure among the many discarded boxes of books. 

In my hands I held an instruction manual that could guide me through any situation that I could possibly encounter. A book so full of knowledge that it would change my life as soon as I lifted the cover and discovered its contents.  A book so...okay you get the point. I’m talking about Mr. T's autobiography, The Man With The Gold (1984 St Martin's Press).
As I read about Mr. T's humble beginnings in the projects of Chicago, I will look to his story of overcoming hardship and challenges to beat the odds and become a superstar for the ages as inspiration in my own life. 
And besides wanting my child to pity fools, there are plenty of nuggets to found.
Here's an excerpt:

That's why I love children so much.  They are so young, innocent, pure and honest, with virgin minds.  They are a very important part of my life, especially since I have a daughter myself (Lisa).  I know it is very important to talk to children while they are still young.  You see, children don't know racial hatred, prejudice, or jealousy.  All of that is taught by the parents.

Well said T, well said.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?

This one's been stuck in my head recently....
I'm beginning to think my wife may my want to hurt me. This may sound absurd and I fought with my reasoning for several days before coming to the realization that yes, I think she does want to inflict a little pain. There's no other explanation for some of the happenings around our house latetly...

Nothing major, just a little jab here or a nudge there, enough to get her message across. Why you ask? Why would my sweet little wife want to make me feel a little discomfort?

Payback. Her body is going through a cluster of changes as she creates life inside of her. It is the experience of a lifetime and something that is truly a miracle.  (And as I've recently been informed a once in a lifetime event for us.)

But this miracle of life is causing my wife fatigue, headaches, food aversions and cravings, varicose veins, stretchmarks, swelling, dry skin, mood swings, frequent urination, and a bevy of other problems that I am spared as I go about my daily life with a goofy I'm going to be a dad grin on my face.

She is being a total trooper about the whole thing, I will give her all the credit in the world for that. However, I have noticed a few peculiar things at home. Faint at first, but now my suspicions are mounting. It started with the occasional knee to my back while in bed, then maybe an errant kick to my leg on the couch. It seems my wife would like to share a little bit of the discomfort she's feeling.

Over the weekend we were putting up some decorative wooden trim in the hallway. I had to stay on alert, as long sections of trim were coming within inches of my face. At first I chalked it up to accident, shaking it off and going about my business.  But then I noticed it was happening frequently, a corner piece just grazing my nose, then another being jabbed into my ribs. Slowly, I came to the conclusion that maybe this wasn't accidental.  I had to keep my guard up at all times as the house became an obstacle course of dangerous tests waiting behind every corner.

I haven't asked her outright if she is trying to hurt me, and perhaps she isn't. It's not as if she is waiting in the other room with an anvil hanging over the doorway, or sticking her foot out to trip me as I come down the hallway, but subconsciously I think she wants to share this little miracle with me, both the pleasure and the pain.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Practice Makes Perfect

Practice Baby
On Saturday I asked my wife to give me some tips on holding a baby and she was more than happy to oblidge.  I've been reading up on these simple yet important skills and I was ready to show her what I knew. How hard could it be anyway? I'm doing it wrong, way wrong.

We practiced with a doll from her childhood, a pleasant little ball of joy who wore a pink dress and had been living in a plastic bag in our basement for the past several months.  I pulled her out, dusted her off and started to feel like a parent as we went through the motions.

Here's my wife holding the baby. Nice and gentle, notice the head turned as she gazes at the baby with loving affection. The baby is secure and nuzzled into her gentle arms for a warm afternoon nap.


Everything looks perfectly normal here, other than the fact that she's holding a doll while I take pictures as the neighbors watch.

Now my turn.  Give me that baby...


The baby has suffered multiple injuries as I have just pulled my Heisman pose with a reckless disregard for the baby's neck, spine, and limbs.  What I didn't know is that when they say hold a baby like a football, they don't mean a football that you are about to spike having scored the game winning touchdown in the third overtime of a bowl game.  This is why we practice...

Okay, let's move on to feeding, which I referred to as "milking the baby" when we took these pictures. I will have to brush up on the lingo before I hang out with other stroller pushers.


My wife shows me how it's done, gently holding the bottle as the baby sucks down the imaginary Cabbage juice. Once again, it's as if she has been doing it all her life.  But she has, it's her doll!!  I notice just a bit of showboating as she poses for the camera.

My turn...


Take the bottle baby, drink it. It's as if I'm holding a rabid squirrel, look at how I dig my thumb into the poor baby's chest... I don't know what I'm doing wrong..but it may have to do with the way I'm stabbing the baby in the face with the bottle.

I still have four to five months to get it together so please don't go calling child services just yet.  I will continue reading and studying while remaining open to advice. With practice and a little luck I will be okay when the time comes for me to hold the real thing, but this eye-opening experience confirms that I have a lot of work to do.  The Cabbage patch doll is just fine by the way, and was in no way harmed in this experience.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Clowning Around

Obviously becoming a parent is a life changing event.  For me it will be especially life changing as I’ve always been treated like a kid….even by kids…especially by kids.  Usually when I spend time with a friend or family member’s kid, I get asked questions such as What time do you have to go to bed?  Or Are you coming over to play tomorrow?   Maybe I should have been a clown.
Perhaps this is my doing; maybe I get into kid’s toys just a bit too much.  Regardless, I’m seen as a really big kid….sort of like Elf, just without the costume.  This goes on until the kids reach ten or eleven when the kids get too cool for adults; at that point I’m discarded just like the toys I love so dearly.
Now with my own kid on the way, I will have to walk a fine line as far as playtime and bedtime.  I want to enjoy my time with my kid, and I definitely don't want to be that stiff dad who's child has never seen him laugh.  Hopefully I can find a nice spot in the middle. 
It still seems strange to think that soon I will be a dad, but as today is day 100 of the pregnancy it seems that it’s going to happen with or without me.  I still have a little bit of time to get used to it, but as the weeks zoom by I’m trying to prepare for my title.  I’ll have to work on my dad face, act like an adult, and stop clowning around.  I’ve still got some time to work on that last one.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Parenting Fail

Preparing to be a first time dad, I have much to learn and little time to learn it.  My main goal is to be a great father to my child, but I’m sure from time to time I will make some mistakes.  One visit to lets me know that I will not be the worst parent out there.  Good Lord…

Here are a few of the least offensive pictures:

Okay, that last one is pretty funny, but still, I know I can do better than this...

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Roster Changes

Everything looks like a baby...
Like most guys, I’ve always loved playing and watching sports, mainly football. From the college ranks to the professionals, I follow my teams during the off season and through the grind of the regular season, watching the experts on television and listening to the commentary on the radio talk shows with total devotion.
Usually August is an exciting time for me because it means that football season is right around the corner, but it has crept up on me this year.  I haven’t been paying attention to details.  As friends and coworkers begin to talk football news, I find myself lost, like a kid who has failed to study for a quiz.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m pumped that football is just around the corner, I'm just a bit behind on the latest trades and acquisitions.  Perhaps this is due to the upcoming new addition to our own roster.
These days I have more to think about than training camps and pre-season rituals.  Schedules have taken on a whole new meaning, as weeks and trimesters have replaced quarters and halves.
Statistics have changed for me; I’m more concerned with crown to rump ratio rather than touchdowns to interceptions.  Passing yards have taken a backseat to red blood cell production, while training camp reports have been ignored while I anticipate finding out if we’re having a boy or a girl.
As we chart the progress with each week, I’ve found myself going weeks without watching SportsCenter and in the dark about my beloved team’s progress.  It seems there’s a new team in town and it’s quickly become my favorite, The Fanning family.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Safety First

In today’s world of helmets, padding, and boy in the bubble safety regulations, we ensure our children are safe at all times.  We take many precautions to make sure nothing goes wrong so that accidents avoided and danger is averted. 
I was born in the seventies, a vastly different time.  A time when people smoked on airplanes, made power shakes with raw eggs, and sprinkled asbestos on their cereal.  Okay that last one’s a stretch but it was certainly a different time.

As a child, I was surrounded by lead paint, we played with rusted nails, swam in creeks, and did all other kinds of things that would terrify today's parents.  When I grew up, a warning label consisted of far fewer words:  Hot!  Sharp!  Will Kill You!

But now I'm beginning to understand why parents are so cautious.  I hope that I'm not going to be one of those overprotective parents.  Is it safe?  Are you okay?  It's raining!  Hopefully I'll know where to draw the line.
My wife had a small glass of wine at our anniversary dinner and I almost had a panic attack....thinking of our baby in there, swimming in a sea of booze.  Some of the things I've read do no help to relieve my nervousness, pumping gas, car exhaust, wet paint....I may get her a hazmat suit, do they come in maternity sizes?

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Project Runaway

My wife has always loved a good project.  When one ends another begins as idle time is frowned upon in our household.  Downtime is a thing of the past, we will search Lowes and Home Depot for supplies needed for the next project on the list, and there's always something on the list. 
But now, with a baby on the way, we have a sense of urgency, and when I say we I mean her.

We need the dishwasher installed and the trim put up in the hallway, did you call your cousin? We have to paint the baby's room, and move the guest room to the office, the office to the laundry room. Did you call your friend to look at the roof? The storm damaged a few of the shingles. Let's go look at ceiling fans, and curtains. Do you think this color goes with the theme of the house?

Wait a minute, our house has a color scheme?

The worst is when one project directly leads to another.  I can often see it coming, say we just finished paintng the kitchen, my wife will get quiet as the wheels begin to turn.  Then she turns to me says something to the effect of  Now we just need a new backsplash! With that a new project has been added to the list.

In my wife's defense, I understand that we need to get a lot done while we can, but at the same time I feel that she could be very well suited as a foreman on an oil rig. She demands results and refuses to put up with my procrastinating. She has already come in twice and given me tasks to do as I type out this 350 word post.

Don't feel bad for me though, if unsupervised I would be content with boring, undecorated hallways and schemelessly (yes, I made that up) painted walls, while I squandered away my  weekends doing fun things that would get us nowhere. I need direction and she has the whip, er I mean map.

Yet I can't help to feel a tinge of fear when I hear my wife's tiny feet walk down the hall on a Saturday or Sunday morning, after her brain has had a full night to dream up another project of some sort while ruining any chance I had of being unproductive.  So enjoy your weekends, I will trying to get in good with my boss.  Speaking of which, I have spent too much time typing, here she comes....

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Party Animals

My wife and I always enjoyed having a few drinks out on carport on Friday nights. We would play some tunes, fire up the grill, and crack open a beer as we enjoyed the end of a long week.

So last night, as the dark clouds rolled through and it began to thunder, we headed out to enjoy the cooling temps and the sound of the rain that has been so rare this summer.

I grabbed a beer and my wife made a virgin Bloody Mary, we were going to re-live our pre-pregnancy glory days. Watching our dog play outside in the downpour, we smiled at each other, enjoying our crazy ways. Just like old times, we were partying on a Friday night. (It was 6:30)

And then it happened, at some point after finishing that first beer, I looked over at my wife, who was literally barefoot and pregnant at the moment while I sat in my chair sipping on a beer. I felt like a such a cliché.

We went inside and made dinner, as I decided against a second beer.  We ended our Friday night on the couch watching Netflix before falling asleep by 10pm. Yeah, we're as crazy as ever.

Friday, August 3, 2012


As we begin our 14th week, our baby’s neck is becoming stronger as he will be able to lift his head from his chin. I’ve become fascinated by reading the baby’s developments as it is truly amazing that my wife is creating life inside of her.
Every day I am more and more amazed by my wife, I’ve started to think of her as a superhero of sorts.  I would give her a cape but she would probably rip it off in a fit of rage, telling me how hot it suddenly has become.  Her ever changing body is now in full swing and I’m trying to roll with it the best I can.
Mood Swings
The mood changes have subsided lately as my wife has gotten used to her raging hormones, but at first I was a bit scared for my life  concerned.  She is back to being her pleasant self which is no small feat considering what’s taking place inside of her.
Swelling breast
Apparently as we get further along, my wife’s swelling breast that she hates and I admire will begin to leak some sort of clear (that's not an actual medical term) substance containing antibodies as she starts to produce milk.  She’s also informed me that they itch, so taking her out in public is a crap shoot.
Aches and pains
I’m trying to do my part, I really am.  I have never been a fan of feet, something I am trying to get over while messaging my pregnant wife’s aching dogs every night.  I know, I know, it’s the least I can do…giving nightly massages is my job and I have to do it with a smile on my face.
Bathroom visits
My God, how much fluid is in there?  Getting in the car?  Gotta pee.  Going for a walk?  Pee.  Bedtime?  Pee Pee Pee.  My wife has taken residence in our bathroom as it seems that her bladder has shrunk to the size of a golf ball.
So as we continue our journey into the unknown, I will keep reading the books and magazines that let me know that my wife's behavior--as funny or odd as it can be at times--is in fact, normal for someone in her condition.  She is handling this in amazing fashion....thankfully men do not get pregnant, there is no way that I could handle this.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Role Models

As I try to do my part during my wife’s pregnancy, I’ve taken to reading some of the literature that she has brought home from the doctor’s office.  I enjoy looking through the stages of our progress and what each week brings to the baby’s development.
There are also many sections for expectant fathers.  I was reading one article titled The Five Myths of fatherhood.  One in particular stood out from the rest. 
Myth 5:  You’re destined to be just like your own father.
In my case, I hope this one is true.  I have nothing but fond memories of my childhood, most of them due to my father.  We had many fun adventures (getting into some trouble involving motor scooters and park rangers along the way).
The article goes on to suggest looking to other sources of influence as well.  Teachers, coaches, friends, uncles, brothers and so on.
Considering our nines and tens little league football coach once instructed us to “Break his G@! Damn neck!” during a time out, I think I will scratch him off the list.  Sure I had some good teachers, but no role models there.  Uncles are great but their main job is to tease the little snot that is their brother or sister’s child.
For me, the best part of growing up was being at home.  I guess I was lucky, because when I was a child there was nothing more exciting than dear old dad walking through the front door.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

What's in a name?

According to, the most popular baby names of 2012 for boys are Liam, Ethan, and Mason.  For girls it’s Emma, Olivia, and Sophia.
To most, these are great, easy to say names.  But what if you’re looking for something with a little more pizazz, or something that stands out?  For many parents, this can lead to mixing and matching or perhaps even creating their very own baby names. 
Many have family names that have been around for generations or want to honor a family member with a name that is no longer common.  These are valid reasons to opt for a less traditional name, but for me some parents just take the cutesy spelling just a bit too far.
Every parent is free to name their own child whatever they please, as for me, I want to name my child something that can
A. Be easily pronounced
B. Be easily spelled
C. Will not have to be repeated several times when introduced.

I don’t think that’s terribly difficult, but a quick Google search proved that I may be in the minority.  There are atrocities such as Trulee, which sounds like an illiterate stripper, Promyss, the strip club where you would meet said stripper, and Symphani, something you may contract from her if you were so lucky.
As if those were bad enough, the roll call continues.  We have several takes on Honesty.  I can completely understand that parents would want a noble name for their child, I’m thinking Abraham not Aunisty, which to me sounds like part of a war treaty.  Also found were Onesty and Honestii……sigh.
Other parents must have a yearning for their kid to go to jail.  Names such as Patron, Juvenal, Innocent, or Gotti should help their cause.  Why not name him/her Inmate 2323229?
Also to be considered is our child’s adult life.   In an ideal world, no one would be pre-judged by their name, but if you name your child Blaze I would go out o a limb and guess that his resume is getting tossed.  I’m also fairly certain the following sentence isn’t said out loud very often: 
Hello Blaze, thank you for coming in today.  It says here that you graduated top of your class? 
Lastly, I would be sure to say the name out loud.  Kids like to tease so it has to be taken into consideration.  Let’s say you want to name your child Harry however your last name is Butts, you may want to go with something else. Perhaps Chase would work.