Does anyone know of a good hotel I can check into for a few nights?
As some of you may know, my wife and I welcomed our first child into the world on the morning of Saturday, August 27. I want to try and explain the amazing experience of childbirth but, well, I’m too tired to try (I’ll explain in a moment).
At the hospital, my wife and I had a pretty good routine. Hold the baby, put her down, watch her sleep, pick her up again, feed her and so forth. In reality, we didn’t have a lot to do in the hospital room so we focused our attention on the baby and the guards… I mean nurses. But now that we’re home, we have a ton to do AND we have to take care of the baby. In fact, relatives are due over sometime today and I have quite a few “decorated” pairs of underwear piling up in the dining room. That’s right, the dining room.
My wife is upset because she takes pride in keeping our house clean. I’m not sure how it happened, but it looks like hurricane Irene hit our living room, dining room and pretty much the entire first floor.
I’m fine with the mess; it’s the constant screaming that irks me. We went to bed around midnight and that’s when Chloe decided it was time to open her beautiful eyes and look around. Of course, the lights were out and she couldn’t see a damn thing, but she let us know… and let us know… and let us know. My wife is considering coffee. I’m considering hard liquor.
To make an unnecessarily long story short, it feels like I have rocks in my eyes. In fact, the muscles around my eyes are getting quite buff as they work harder to keep my eyelids open during 3:30 AM swaddling attempts.
But then, for that brief moment, she looks up at me with her brand new eyes and makes it all worthwhile. I know you hear this type of thing all the time in movies and novels, but there’s really no other way to say it. Holding my little baby that grew from virtually nothing, I get complex feelings of wonder, love and the burden of responsibility. She depends on me for everything. I am her world.
My stomach is eating my spleen right now, so I’m going to eat something.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Thanks for the Advice I Didn't Need
People have been giving me (the expectant parent) all kinds of advice I didn’t ask for during the last nine months or so.
Below are some of the most popular pieces of advice I’ve received since we were expecting.
Your life is never going to be the same.
Well, of course it’s not. We’re growing a human.
Sometimes people say this one with a “you’re screwed now” tone while others give a more sincere “this is an unbelievable blessing” vibe. Either way, for better or for worse, things are going to change. Duh.
When is the due date?
I’ve told you a half dozen times, and I really don’t want to have to say it again. (This one isn’t advice, but I’m just tired of the question.)
Get your sleep now. / Sleep as much as you can.
Should I sleep for a solid month? Two months? What about my job? Should I quit? Really, I’m not too worried about this one. If I can attend college classes, work part-time and hold an internship simultaneously, I should be able to add a baby to my current “work and sleep” schedule.
You’re going to be a daddy.
Yes, I know. I don’t have the uterus.
Come to think of it, none of this is really advice... just things people feel the need to say… every day.
Below are some of the most popular pieces of advice I’ve received since we were expecting.
Your life is never going to be the same.
Well, of course it’s not. We’re growing a human.
Sometimes people say this one with a “you’re screwed now” tone while others give a more sincere “this is an unbelievable blessing” vibe. Either way, for better or for worse, things are going to change. Duh.
When is the due date?
I’ve told you a half dozen times, and I really don’t want to have to say it again. (This one isn’t advice, but I’m just tired of the question.)
Get your sleep now. / Sleep as much as you can.
Should I sleep for a solid month? Two months? What about my job? Should I quit? Really, I’m not too worried about this one. If I can attend college classes, work part-time and hold an internship simultaneously, I should be able to add a baby to my current “work and sleep” schedule.
You’re going to be a daddy.
Yes, I know. I don’t have the uterus.
Come to think of it, none of this is really advice... just things people feel the need to say… every day.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
A Prize In My Cereal
If you follow my every move on Facebook, you probably know that I ate a bowl full of live ants this morning with my generic version of Golden Grahams.
I followed my usual routine: Stumble out of bed, accidentally step on a cat, make my way to the kitchen with my eyes barely open, grab a bowl, spoon, cereal and milk and eat up. It was no different from any other morning.
The cold milk, combined with the constant chewing, helps me regain consciousness. So, of course, it wasn’t until I was just about finished when I saw them. A few had already drowned while the survivors kicked their six legs in a struggle for life. But it was a struggle that ended with a garbage disposal.
Needless to say, it was a really gross morning. Laura compared it to the scene from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids when Rick Moranis is about to eat his miniature son from a bowl of Cheerios. Well, at least that didn’t happen. At least I didn’t eat any mini children.
I followed my usual routine: Stumble out of bed, accidentally step on a cat, make my way to the kitchen with my eyes barely open, grab a bowl, spoon, cereal and milk and eat up. It was no different from any other morning.
The cold milk, combined with the constant chewing, helps me regain consciousness. So, of course, it wasn’t until I was just about finished when I saw them. A few had already drowned while the survivors kicked their six legs in a struggle for life. But it was a struggle that ended with a garbage disposal.
Needless to say, it was a really gross morning. Laura compared it to the scene from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids when Rick Moranis is about to eat his miniature son from a bowl of Cheerios. Well, at least that didn’t happen. At least I didn’t eat any mini children.
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