Male Pregnancy Hormones - What's Going On?

I’ve been reading about the changes men undergo during pregnancy.  Yes, men.  Although I fully understand that we get the better end of the pregnancy deal, it seems that we do in fact, go through some changes as well.  As the female hormones run rampant in my wife's body,  I was surprised to find that--in an effort to prepare for my role as nurturer--my levels of testosterone, competitiveness, and aggression will continue to decrease by roughly a third once the baby is here.  

Maybe this explains why I’ve hardly watched any football in the past month.  Or the fact that I was really excited about watching Christmas movies last weekend.  I'm not saying that I've become feminine, but this morning I caught myself performing “jazz hands” while getting dressed for work. 

It all makes sense now, last week when I found myself thinking that my truck was impractical, or the other day when I thought I could really go for a salad.  Words such as cute or adorable, have replaced grunts or mumbling.  What is happening to me? 

I’m even planning artsy craftsy projects.  Over the weekend, I bought a wooden plane for the baby's room that I plan on painting.  What’s wrong with that you ask?  An expectant father planning a project for his son. Well nothing, until...

“You’re going to paint?”  My wife asked, following up with, “You’re going to spend more than two minutes on something and pay attention to detail?”

“Yep, I’m going to paint the wings red, and maybe put some stripes on them.  Not sure about the propeller…”  I caught myself coordinating the color scheme of the plane with the curtains.  Dear God, how did this happen?

I’m very comfortable with myself, but some of these feelings are very new to me.  I’m excited, very excited, and now if it wasn’t enough to have a pregnant woman in the house, in a way we have two.

I may not be showing, and I'm pretty sure I'm not carrying a baby, but how am I supposed to interact with other males without blurting out which exfoliating cream was on sale last weekend?  I'm not far away from the following scenario:

“Hey Pete did you see the game Saturday?”

“No, but you know what I did catch?  The commercial-free airing of A Princess For Christmas on The Hallmark Channel.  It was adorable!”

Okay, hopefully it never gets that bad, but I did watch Home Alone instead of football on a Saturday night, (My team had just lost to its rival and is out of the post-season anyway), while eating ice cream on the couch with my wife.  We were only a cucumber facial mask away from a pajama party sleepover...

Oh well,  I suppose I’ve never been the manliest of men anyway.  I don’t hunt, I don’t watch UFC, and I have a blog; so maybe the hormones didn’t need much help to begin with.

Because We're Idiots...

I wrote this over at Hubpages a while back in response to a girl who asked why her boyfriend always argued with her.  I tried my best to explain it here:

Men. Simply put, we’re idiots. And it doesn't pain me to say it because it has been proven time and time again. It is one of the true things in this world that cannot be changed. As males, most of us do not make great decisions, except of course for the decision to be with you.

Since the dawn of mankind we have been stubborn, stupid creatures. Left alone, we will eat pizza, drink beer and watch sports. That's it, and we will contently live out our days doing so. We will communicate through a series of grunts and one word answers, and never, ever, express our feelings.

A woman in our life helps us grow and become better men. As the old saying goes, behind every great man there is a great woman. And that woman is right most of the time. A guy may have a Nobel prize sitting on the mantle and yet has never won an argument with his wife.

Progress isn't easy, we will fight it as long as we are able to do so. We will kick and scream until all we have left is the argument. And then we lose that. Women are better equipped to win an argument than men. Most of them think before they speak and see the big picture beyond the next few days.  (Women will actually plan what to have for dinner, sometimes even days in advance).

When my wife and I get into an argument, I will passionately argue my case, more often than not attempting in vain to prove my point. Most of the times I will make a huge fuss and production only to find out later that she was in fact, right all along. Now I can’t just admit that I was wrong after expending so much energy fighting for my cause and what I believed was right, so I have to continue to fight, despite being once again, in the wrong.

Sometimes I will continue to argue, going on and on as I state my points and make my case. As I get on a roll, I catch fire and cannot be stopped, my voice gains strength as my confidence mounts. Finally, I look over at my wife and notice her staring at me, curious as to when I will stop having a conversation with myself. I feel foolish and childlike, I want to stomp off and out of the room. She was right.

Other times I look for a loophole, a technicality that allows me to save face. This way I don’t have to say it, you know…it, anything to keep me from saying it yet again. Didn't I just say it last week? You’re right honey. Yeah, that hurts. I was wrong once again….again!

Maybe it's in the DNA, a flaw in the Y chromosome. I've read about a woman who was born with male DNA and female parts, talk about an inner struggle. This poor woman has never won an argument with anyone.

Maybe it all started when Eve gave the I told you so look to Adam. The patented look that says, you’re an idiot. We don’t care about hand towels, paint color schemes, window dressings, or matching picture frames. We care about fourth quarter comebacks, pizza, and the lawn mower. And the dog, we care about the dog.

As for women who wonder why men continue to argue, I suggest you that you just be the bigger person and let your man have the last word. He’s probably so sick and tired of trying to argue with your logical points he’s exhausted. Let him use words such as So, or Whatever, this may be all he has left in his arsenal. Deep down he knows your right, again, just don't make hims say it...

The Plague...

A few days ago I woke up with a sore throat, runny nose, and flu-like aches and pains.  Ever the tough guy, I looked over at my wife and whined, I’m siiiiick. 

“You must have gotten what I had last week.”  She said, perhaps a bit too casually.

I scoffed, there’s no way she had what I have now.  I’m sick, I mean really sick.  I must have some sort of super bug that hasn’t been fully discovered yet.  I’m so sick you may get sick just from reading about my being sick.  I may need a doctor.   My wife says I’m sometimes dramatic, but did I mention I’m sick?  I’m dramatically sick!

“No this is something else, I really feel sick.”  I said, and she chuckled.

How could she laugh?  I’m suffering and she thinks it’s funny?  In sickness and in health and all of that…

It was then that I remembered last week.   My wife woke up early, went to work, came home, fixed dinner, and then maybe said something to the effect of, “I’m a little tired.”  Oh yeah, and she was creating life inside of her!    She may have said something about being sick once or twice in passing, but nothing over the top.  At our house, no one does over the top like me, I’ve cornered the market on being over the top.

But this flu bug got me thinking, are women tougher than men?  When I get sick I ask my wife for sick soup, moan and groan and may even whine until it passes.  When my wife is sick, I hope that I don’t catch it she carries on as usual and may or may not mention it.  I cannot believe she felt like this and still taught children all day, while being pregnant.

Score one for the women. While I would never want to be one and I'm quite sure that I will never fully understand them, I respect their tolerance for pain and the whole creating life part too….better them than me.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some moaning to do because--I may or may not have mentioned this--I'm sick.

Baby Shower - What's A Guy To Do?

Over the weekend my wife had her baby shower.  Her shower? So I thought. Perhaps I've been watching too much Mad Men, but for some reason I hadn't planned on being involved. I figured I would be on the golf course or at a card game smoking a cigar, although I don't do either so that would be weird. In any event I had not planned on partaking. I would be on my own, tucked away in the basement hiding out with the dogs watching football, or something like that.



Saturday morning arrived and the fun began. I took the dogs for a run, raked the leaves in the yard, and stopped just short of untangling the hose before I set out on last minute errands before our guests arrived. My mother in law and her sister worked fastidiously, cleaning the house and preparing food for the guests. My wife's best friend took care of everything else.  And there was a whole lot of everything else.

 



My reading list...

 By the time I arrived home from my excuse to be out of the house errands, things were coming together quite nicely. Our living room had been transformed into a bookstore/gala event complete with stuffed animals, party favors, pictures, and...are those meatballs? Trays of food were sitting out as a buffet had been set out in my absence.  Fruit kabobs, cookies, bacon wrapped pineapple, ham biscuits, taco dip, muffins, cupcakes, and candy. Lots and lots of candy. I quickly found myself thinking, this isn't so bad...

Nevertheless, my Uncle and my cousin's husband headed downstairs to the bunker. I had the beer on ice and college football on the television, we were all set. But the moms upstairs must have had a different idea. The basement door opened and the sounds of little footsteps could be heard bouncing down the stairs. We were joined by a friend's five year old son, and then a three year old, and then another one.  I quickly noticed we were in the midst of daddy day care chaos. Now I don't know what 37 year old male doesn't have a skateboard, football, and inflatable punch dummy in his basement, but let me tell you, it all came in handy.  We played with the kids, watched some football, and quickly forgot about the beer, we had been suckered into working.

I made multiple trips upstairs, for cookies, punch, parents, and bathroom trips to wash grubby little hands that became sticky from holding those cookies and spilling punch.  A few times I ran up just to sneak a peek at the lifetime movie scene that was unfolding in my living room, and I quickly realized that our house was no longer our own. We now officially have a kid house. In just one day our home was furnished with toys, stuffed animals, kid books, colorful bath toys and clothes, lots of clothes. Simon will be one lucky boy.

As the smoke cleared and our guest began to head out, we looked at the array of gifts spread out on our floor. My wife's best friend stayed behind, and with the help of my mother-in-law and aunt-in-law we began the task of cleaning the house. They were lifesavers.

I would like to thank everyone involved for the gracious gifts and support. We are truly blessed to have such loving family and friends and we are forever grateful for each and every one of you. Now if you will excuse me, I have to attend to this cooler full of beer.