Embarrassing Stories From A Former Baby

As the tag line atop this blog reads, I started writing and posting here as "blog therapy," a way for me to sort through the emotions, pressures, and unparalleled joys of becoming a first-time parent. I hope to one day share this site with my child, who will look at the Web page and laugh, much as I do when I see screen caps of accessing AOL at 14.4kps speed on Windows 3.1.

But, until that time, I'm aware that there are people out there reading this - and I'm going to fully shatter the fourth wall here by writing something directly for those eyeballs. This isn't going to expose the inner workings of my psyche (though some people might say it explains a lot), it serves solely to entertain you -- and remind me of what I am in for.

Apparently, when I was growing up, I was developmentally...slow. Not in any certifiable or troublesome way, but when the books say that I "should"be doing something, chances are, I hadn't gotten around to it. Personally, I believe it - I'm lazy to this day.

I am the first-born in my family, my parents were "new parents" when I arrived (after my original due date, mind you). At first, my parents were worried about me, according to all the parenting books, I was missing milestone "firsts" (smiling, sitting up, crawling) by weeks, months even. For 12 full months, I didn't say a word. I am making up for lost time to this day. My mother says that eventually I balanced myself out when I did decide to speak, I quickly began to speak in full sentences, so that it was clear that I wasn't really developmentally disabled, but more developmentally unwilling.

My sloth-like attitude toward growing up extended past infancy and toddlerhood. You see, I apparently, did not want to be potty trained. Rather than learn something that you can train a common housecat to do, I rather enjoyed marinating in my own filth.

By the time I hit three and a half, I was still wearing diapers (I think right around three years is when you move from Huggies to Depends), and my mother was worried...and pissed. I was due to start preschool and wouldn't be allowed in with a diaper sticking out of my Oshkosh B'Gosh's.

My mother reasoned with me. She had a newborn (my younger brother) to deal with and calmly sold me on attending the big boy preschool, where pants-peeing was a "no no." I looked my mom in the eye, squirmed in my diaper, and told her I understood. I had to learn to use that toilet. I trained like a prizefighter leading up to that first day of preschool. I was going to take on Rodeph Shalom's morning-only three-year-old preschool program's toilet with all that I had.

My first day of school came. My mom sent me, diaperless and drier than the Sahara, off to my first day of school. Four hours, two milks, and one nap later I came home a happy boy. I made it a full morning without a diaper or an accident! I proudly walked through the front door, squirted past my mother's waiting arms, scaled the steps to my bedroom, grabbed one of my diapers, and stuck it in my mother's face. Realizing why I had rushed home so quickly after school, my mother dutifully strapped the diaper onto my body so that I, for the first time since leaving the house that morning, could finally pee.

What's In A Name, Part I

I've slipped into a bad habit lately, and I'm getting called out on it. Over the past few weeks, I've slipped into referring to my child as "he." It's entirely subconscious, but could be interpreted to mean that I'm "rooting" for one gender over the other. I'm not. It's just very difficult to refer to my child with the gender-neutral "it." Makes me think I'll be raising the villain of a Stephen King novel. Plus, when you slip from pronoun to possessive pronoun, "it" turns into a grammatical nightmare.

We tried to come up with alternative gender-neutral names, like "Baby TBD," "Belly Fruit," and "Tubey" (as in Baby "to be" - credit, my brother and sister-in-law), but none of those names seemed to stick.

When we saw our latest ultrasound photos, we were inspired. Our baby clearly has a preference and, whether it pans out or not, he/she/it has a name that will last until birth and beyond: Lefty.

But First...

It's snowing here!

Winter's been pretty disappointing here in the nation's capital. Granted, we're only good for a really substantial snowfall every few years, but we usually get at least one storm of some accumulation. This year was pretty weak. About ten days ago we got hit with an icestorm which is more scary than pretty. But today? A fore casted "wintry mix" turned into a few inches (and growing!) of white fluffy snow!

Why is that exciting? Because I want to go sledding -- and next winter, I'll have a child to use as an excuse to go sledding and not look creepy or out of place.

I know that we measure milestones by capturing things like "baby's first tooth," and "baby's first haircut," but the things that I'm looking most forward too are slightly different. In no particular order:

• Baby's first snowstorm/sled ride
  
• Baby's first baseball game
• Baby's first poop (I'll celebrate the first one, you better believe)
• Baby's first curse word (it's always so cute when they have no idea what they mean)
• Baby's first taste of foot (there ain't much cuter than a baby discovering its own feet)
• Baby's first spit-up on one of my single guy-friends (just for the fun of it)

I'd stay and list more, but I have to go make a snowman.

Pregnancy FAQ

I love my family. I also love my friends. I tolerate my co-workers. While I do enjoy the sound of my own voice, I'm not a fan of repetition (don't lie, neither are you - I bet you don't repeat after lathering and rinsing).

So, after answering the same set of questions over the past few months, I'm just going to compile them in a handy Pregnancy FAQ below. I am sure this will grow bigger in direct proportion to my wife's belly, so maybe this is just part one.

When is the baby due?
Oddly enough, we've heard differing due dates:
Doctor A: September 2
Doctor B: September 4
My Wife: Not Soon Enough
Me: Better Not Be NFL Opening Day

Are you excited?
When I was eight, my parents took my brother and I to Disneyland - Mickey, Goofy, Pluto, the whole shebang. That was exciting.
This? This is adrenaline-fueled anxiety. Imagine having to get your Christmas presents by walking through a minefield with a blindfold on. It's that kind of exciting.

Are you going to find out the gender?
Apparently, this is a major question, one that expectant parents wrestle with. For me, it's a no-brainer, yes, we are going to find out the gender. There's so much I don't know, it will be nice to cross one thing off the list.

Do you want a boy or girl?
Remember that line in the original Godfather, "May your first child be a masculine one."? Well, I'm not that adamant. No matter what gender, the kid's gonna have me wrapped around its little finger - though if it's a girl, she might never ever have me unwrapped. Quite honestly, so long as it is healthy and has between 18-24 functional digits, I'll be happy. And even if not, I'll still be happy.

What names are you considering?
Oh no you don't! I cannot, should not, and will not divulge this information. You see, I'm an asshole and a gossip. It's a terrible, but terribly satisfying, combination. There's nothing I like more than to make fun of you and your decisions behind your back. You will not be doing the same to me and my child.

How is your wife? Is she craving?
My wife is fine, thank you for asking. She's taking pregnancy like a champ (yeah, that's a wierd thing to say, but bear in mind, my wife hates children). She was biologically blessed to avoid morning sickness (knock on wood) but, perhaps as balance, has to self-administer shots twice a day. That is another reason why men will never gestate. I'm too much of a wuss to do that.

Is my wife craving? Well, that's another question entirely. Does she know that her loving husband will dote on her every need and bring her whatever she wants? Yes. Is she satisfying her cravings? Yes, but they aren't all food related.

My wife's cravings are pretty much limited to four daily phone calls to ensure I haven't skipped town and for still silence while she sleeps.

How has life changed since becoming a non-smoking, teetotaling expectant father?
It's pretty much the same, except boring. Just kidding!
Apparently, instead of drinking myself to sleep each night, I blog. Same difference.

Have you registered yet?
No, no, we're having a baby, we got married last year.
Right, have you registered for the baby?
You mean like registering a firearm? I'm pretty sure the hospital...
I mean, have you registered for baby items or picked a nursery theme yet?
We have to do that? I was pretty sure that after the silverware and plates and stuff, we were done.
Nope, you have to register - you simply have to go to Babies R Us and pick out a nursery theme, you will have so much fun!
That's not a question, that's a threat.

This Week in Fatherhood

"This Week in Fatherhood" publicizes and celebrates fathers across the globe. We laugh at their foibles, chuckle at their misfortune, and remind ourselves that there are no prerequisites to fatherhood. Let us all learn from their idiocy.

NOTE: In the course of my daily Interneting, I came across this site: Parents Behaving Badly. They do the same thing I do here, except more frequently, much better, and not limited to just fathers. I highly recommend checking it out.

• Wife physically assaults husband after he chides her for overdrinking at their wedding. Why is this here? She's seven months pregnant.
• Some people just can't wait to get their hands on their baby.
• Responsible Father: "Son, I'm too drunk to drive, please take these keys and drive me home."
  Irresponsible Father: "Son, you are just 14, but I trust you to take these keys and drive me home"
  Horrible Father: "Son, I know that you are drunk at 14, but I trust you to take these keys and drive me home."
• Ty Winnington, sure-handed infielder. (found via The Feed)
  
• Off the beaten theme, tomorrow is Oscar night and I've seen two of the Best Picture nominees! That's two more than last year! Not nominated was this film which, in all honesty, I'll probably never see. Regardless, suck it Pan's Labyrinth!

She's Eating For Two, I'm Thinking For Three

So I wanted to quit my job the other day.

Not seriously, I didn't - but I felt the way I imagine most of us do when frustrated or temporarily fail to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's a feeling that leaves as quickly as it come, but it stuck around long enough to get me thinking.

I thought my days of selfishness were over the day I said "I do" (more realistically, the day I asked, "Will You?"). To an extent they were, but not like they soon will be.

I think I'm a pretty good husband, one that checks in with his spouse and makes sure there aren't any conflicts when planning activities (activities = euphemism for going out drinking). But the days of carefree spontaneity are quickly drawing to an end.

Spontaneity could mean picking up for a weekend and heading to the beach, or it could be as drastic as up and quitting a job without much of a fallback.

There's a line in the promo for a new David Spade sitcom, probably the only funny line in the show, where Spade is leaving his married friends and says something to the effect of, "yeah, I'm going to do whatever I want."

That mentality doesn't entirely disappear when you get married, but I'm fairly sure it does when you have a child. So the fantasy of up and quitting a job because I get frustrated one afternoon will remain a fantasy - I'll keep my nose to the grindstone (he writes, while at the office) and bring home as much of the bacon as I can.

In the meantime, though, if you're looking for some freelance writing by the only writer who *doesn't* aspire to be a novelist, don't be shy. You wouldn't even have to pay me my full salary - just enough to live on, minus the cost of day care.

It's a Thumbsucker!

For the third time in the past twelve weeks, I saw the most incredible thing today.

That's right, my baby has a HUGE head (possible career as San Fransisco Giant in the future?), arms, and legs! The photos taken this morning were the clearest images of our baby to date and it was the most incredible thing I've ever seen...until this was taken:I could have spent all morning watching this little (3 inches!) life sleep and wiggle its little arms around. But, as I'm learning, being a parent goes beyond just providing for and marveling at a child. It means worrying that my child might grow up different than its parents as a lefthander. And it also means that, like daddy, this kid's gonna need some braces. But it's waaaay too early to worry about that.

An Open Letter to Tom Brady

Dear Tom,

So, you are going to become a father. Congratulations. No matter what happens over the next few months, don't lose sight of the fact that bringing a baby into this world is a blessed event. Since you're as Catholic as a Friday-night fish fry, I'm guessing you already know this.

I don't want to stoop down to the level of celebrity gossip, even if you and your baby momma (this hot woman) split up before knowing you conceived, and you're traipsing around with this hot woman.

Reading over the media reports one thing sticks out to me: Whether Bridget was knowingly trying to get pregnant or not, it seems you were not.

Now, I don't know much about reading a Cover 2 defense, having sex with models, or how to properly care for a cleft chin, but I know a little bit about reacting to an unexpected pregnancy.

And Tommy, since it appears my wife is hours, possibly even a few days more pregnant than your baby momma, I'm clearly the veteran expert - you can learn from me. Let me walk you through the Five Stages of Becoming an Unexpected Father.

1. Denial - This is a common first reaction for most men, and even some women. Myself, I wasn't assured that my wife was pregnant until a doctor said so. The last thing you need as you entered the NFL stretch drive was news that Bridget's knocked up. If I were you, I would have simply brushed it off as a biological oddity, convincing myself that a period was just around the corner. Of course, you are Tom Brady, your spirals cut through double covers, zones, and avoid blitzing linebackers. There is no defense for your sperm when an egg is in sight. You can deny all you want, but it looks like you saved some energy for...

2. Anger - So, she's three months along, which takes us back to late November or December for conception. No need to get upset, Tom, I mean, what the hell else is there to do when you're cooped up at her parent's house over Thanksgiving weekend? Looking at the Patriot's schedule, I'm guessing she told you sometime before you were shut out 21-0 by the Dolphins on December 10. It's hard to be in denial and concentrate on game film - hell, I had to rewind The Office to make sure I got all the jokes - but it looks like you slipped into anger by the next game.

3. Bargaining - If you are anything like me Tom, you've made many a deal in your head with your God: "I'll never drink/smoke/eat the Sunday Sushi Special again" if you could just feel better. And facing an unexpected pregnancy, I was no different. But believe me, no matter how many times you promise to use birth control as properly intended (but I need something to make water balloons NOW, I told myself - I can always buy more later), there's no deal that can get you out of this.

4. Depression - This can manifest itself in many ways, Tom, and frankly, I think you're stuck in this one. I found myself distracted at work, overeating and generally not caring about my physique. I'm a bit worried that you are shirking your professional obligations in Hawaii for golf at Pebble Beach and have been cavorting with models. Remember, Tom, no matter how good you think you feel on the outside, it's how you feel on the inside that counts. If it helps, you can hand over your golf clubs and Gisele's home phone number, and I can hold onto them both until you are ready for...

5. Acceptance - All the baby books will tell you that you should wait 10-12 weeks before going public with a pregnancy (oddly, the books are silent on going public in a newspaper gossip column). The books say it's best to wait, as the chances of miscarriage drop steeply. That's bullshit, Tom.

You have to wait 10-12 weeks to go public because that's how long it takes to say "I'm going to be a father," without mentally adding "so I guess I won't be having any more fun."

To truly be ready for fatherhood, you have to move from acceptance to embracing that you will be a father. Instead of thinking about the diapers you will have to change or the midnight feedings you'll have to wake up for, think about the legacy you are creating - Archie Manning is damn folk hero in New Orleans, and he sucked as a quarterback; think about the road trips you will still take to other cities, and the models and strippers left to bang. Remind yourself that lots of your peers are great parents - if Lebron and Leinart can do it, so can you.

Yours in Impending Fatherhood,
SteveJeltzFan

Love Is...

Love is spending eight hours in a tiny car with your wife, driving from store to store, plopping your butt into dozens of sofas, watching a holiday slowly slip away, deciding that the sofa you want was the first you saw and that you could have been home at noon (instead of 7:30 pm), with nothing to do but install a new flat panel HDTV...and look back and think about how good a day you had.

The First Trimester Hate List

We're nearing the end of the first trimester here at Nine Month Odyssey and we're happy to be surrounded by nothing but love. From parents, friends, co-workers, even strangers, we are a bit surprised to see just how happy and positive a pregnancy makes people. It's time to let some air out of that balloon. Some things I've grown to hate over the past 12 weeks...

• Planning for a Nursery's Color Scheme - really? This is integral to my child's development?
• Parent's Jockeying For Position - Due date is six months away, quit camping out for tickets like this is a concert
• Parenting Books For Fathers - I am not an idiot.
  
• Grey's Anatomy - Have sex or die, I really don't care
  
• My Wife's Twice Daily Blood Thinner Shots - She hates 'em, so I do, too.
  
• My Tossing & Turning At Night - Another symptom of being pregnant? Becoming a light sleeper, if you are my wife
  
• People Not Show-Shoveling Their Sidewalks - I can make it just fine, but when I've got a stroller in tow, you better believe I'll sue you
  
• The Placenta - Necessary for survival? Yes. Unbelievably disgusting? Yes.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head. I'll add to this as I think of more - feel free to contribute.

This Week in Fatherhood

"This Week in Fatherhood" publicizes and celebrates fathers across the globe. We laugh at their foibles, chuckle at their misfortune, and remind ourselves that there are no prerequisites to fatherhood. Let us all learn from their idiocy.

• It's been snowy, icy and downright cold where I live lately. I walk to work each day, and have spent a good deal of my commute thinking about how I'd transport my child in this weather (he/she will be five months old this time next year). This is not how I'd go about doing it.
• I'm guessing if Senior and Junior knew this is what Trey and Quad were up to, they'd lay off the whole "family name is a legacy" thing. But isn't it cute how you can totally see the family resemblance in the mug shots?
• Nothing bonds a father and son like a good old fashioned road trip through this great county.
  
• Finally, I don't have a joke about this one, it's just too sad and perverse. I'm linking it so that it cannot be swept under the rug.
  

Our Timing Was Off

My wife's due date was recently pushed from Sept. 2 to Sept. 4, gee thanks, modern medicine. No matter when the baby comes, so long as it comes after 11:59 pm, August 31, 2007, it's gonna cost us.

No, we don't have some magical "free baby" option that sunsets at the end of August. Looking over the regulations of our school district, a child must be five years old before September 1 of that year before they can enroll in kindergarten. Now, of course every child is unique and this rule should be coordinated on a case-by-case basis. Given the general aptitude and intelligence of its parents, there's a good chance that my baby will "test in" or be considered mature enough to attend kindergarten and the tender age of 4 years, 361 days old. But if not, is it a bad thing that I'm already calculating how much that extra year without private school will cost me?

Like most things I am discovering with babies, the result is based on the individual and not on some arbitrary deadline or when "everyone else" says it should happen. If my child is fairly adept at reading, writing, and not biting other children come September 2012, then it's off to school with you.

And if my child can benefit from some extra developmental time, so be it. Considering I realized last night that my wife and I will be paying our own student loans for the next 17 years, we could use that extra time to add to the college fund.

Suck It!

I was checking out the "On Parenting" blog over at washingtonpost.com and stumbled on a blurb about thumbsucking. Now, before we go further, you should know my stance on thumbsucking. I am in favor of it.

As a child, I sucked my thumb as long as it was socially acceptable. And then I sucked it some more. To this day, I still think about sucking my thumb. Thumbsucking is a panacea for the diaper-set, but I'm willing to bet that after a good meal, a nice thumbsuck is as satisfying as a cigar or brandy.

What caught my eye in this post was not just thumbsucking, but that thumbsucking is often accompanied by a secondary habit, the article mentions hair twirling. My secondary habit was nose-picking (yes, I am remarkably well-adjusted, thanks for asking). But nosepicking seems downright cordial compared to:

"Unfortunately, my son's mindless secondary habit was pulling his private parts out of his pants."

Wow. This kid is so far ahead of himself, I don't even know where to begin. I hope the author captured this on video to send to America's Funniest Home Videos, or to use as future blackmail.

This is just another example of things a child under five can do and be cute, while others who do the same thing are just plain creepy.

The good news for the author is that she and her husband did wean their son off of thumb-sucking . They didn't have to resort to anything sordid like shame, guilt or bitter tasting thumbsucking deterrent paste. They did it the old fashioned way: bribery.

The Real Valentine's Day Post

Sorry about the fake-out last week, but today really is Valentine's Day. It is also precisely 200 days until my wife's due date.

I will not be sharing what my Valentine's Day plans are, because I don't want to tell you, and you don't really want to know.

But I do want to etch into the Internet ether just how much I love my wife, and how much she's meant to me over the years.

When we first met, back more than ten years ago, fresh out of high school, it was just a crush. Fitting for a boy weeks removed from his Senior Prom, it was a simple schoolboy crush. Meeting you then made the apprehension of college melt away. Now, don't go getting a big head about that -- it wasn't so much specifically you (you had a faraway boyfriend, remember) -- but more about the concept of you. A beautiful, smart, funny woman, plopped right into my Orientation Group. And if this was the first day, well, then surely the next four years would be memorable.

And the next four years were memorable- at least the parts that aren't too hazy. That school boy crush ebbed and flowed, but was always a part of me. I like to think that it wasn't entirely unrequited, as you would insist at the time.

What made those four years most memorable was what happened toward the end of that sophomore year. Those precious first steps, first conversations, first kisses of a new relationship. The circumstances were indeed peculiar, but, as time would prove, when you are in love, you are in love.

Since then we've had our ups and our downs, our own ebbs and flows. We broke up and returned to each other. We were separated by hundreds of miles, but spoke each night, like clockwork (plus, I found out that my clock does work in the middle of the night). I ran through the same emotions that I did when we first met - reverting back to a crush and moving forward from there.

But through it all, I never stopped loving you. Through thick and thin, good times and bad, I'm not sure that my feelings for you ever entirely left. We may have been "just friends," but you were a friend I loved, and I think you felt the same way.

Last year, when we married ("finally!" some would say) I found myself thinking about what love and relationships really are. Marriage is a commitment, an act of dedication spawned from love.

Having a baby goes beyond that commitment and dedication of marriage. Whether conceiving a child is a conscious or unconscious decision, our growing child is a manifestation of our love (in the literal and figurative senses).

And this Valentine's Day, beyond any chocolates I could buy, flowers I could send, or restaurants we could visit, knowing that we are bringing a child into this world together is all the gift I need.

It's been quite a year for our family. Going back 12 months, we've started a new job (you), moved, gotten married/gone honeymooning, started a new job (me), gotten pregnant (you, with help from me), and now we are about to close on our first home.

I gotta tell ya, I'm the luckiest school boy around.

A Weighty Issue

This might be the post that gets me killed.

I started this as "blog therapy," a way for me to vent, pontificate, document, and generally worry about my impending fatherhood. I can't shy away from my own thoughts.

It became apparent from the beginning that formerly taboo topics were suddenly up for discussion. I'm about to crash through the final taboo: My lovely, expectant wife, is starting to show.

Watching her trying to squeeze into work clothes that, just three months ago, she wore loosely, it was hard not to notice.

For men, it's easy to ignore (or be ignorant of) a woman's dramatic hormonal changes. Though my wife began going to bed early, she would always choose bed over an extra half-hour of television. I used to laugh when she would go to the bathroom before bed, then go back to the bathroom less than thirty minutes later: now, that happens four or five times before she finally goes to sleep.

But when she starts to show, even the most callous man can no longer ignore. And when I noticed, my first thoughts weren't about how this would affect me (which is rare), but were about her - and all pregnant women.

For many American women, from the moment puberty kicks in, body image and weight issues are paramount. Nearly 5% of all women in this country have a serious eating disorder, such as bulemia or anorexia. How does Life reward these rice cake-eating, treadmill-jogging, water bottle-toting women when they get pregnant? By gaining weight.

On the one hand, I imagine that pregnancy can be liberating, to a degree. No longer (or at least for nine months) do you have to worry or obsess about what others think of your body: You are pregnant, and that is the trump card.

But that hand is the abstract hand. The one that doesn't have to worry about how that top button is going to close or if the zipper is going to make it all the way to the top.

In reality, at least for the next few weeks, my wife is caught between squeezing into her current clothes, buying some clothes a size up, or giving in to wearing maternity clothes for the next seven months.

I can't imagine that the "liberating benefits" of being pregnant amounted to a hill of beans when she realized that.

This Week in Fatherhood

"This Week in Fatherhood" publicizes and celebrates fathers across the globe. We laugh at their foibles, chuckle at their misfortune, and remind ourselves that there are no prerequisites to fatherhood. Let us all learn from their idiocy.

• Can't get a baby sitter? No problem, so long as you can make it to your local pharmacy!
• Until I read this article, I had no idea that Ryan O'Neal was Tatum O'Neal's father. Also, I never knew how big an asshole he is.
• Usually, you have men running away from being called "baby daddy." Behold, the legacy of Anna-Nicole Smith.
• Ok, so maybe working 18+ hours a day, travelling extensively and moving often to advance your career isn't a beneficial trait for fathers.

Here, You Take Care of My Baby

We're T-minus 7 months until due day and T-minus 10 months until my wife and I figure out what to do with our child while we return to gainful employment. I didn't even apply to college 10 months in advance, but apparently, with day cares, that's how you roll. Nothing to report yet, but if anyone knows where I can find this place, let me know.

The Valentine's Day Post

If you're using Nine Month Odyssey as a calendar, stop. And stop panicking, it is not currently Valentine's Day. It is one week until Valentine's Day. Though it's still seven days away, I'm up a creek: I got nothing.

Technically newlyweds, my wife and I have spent a fair amount of Valentine's Days together. For our first few, we went the traditional route: prix fixe menus at restaurants advertised in the local paper. When that wore out, tried a few alternatives: nights out at bars, nights in with pizza. We eventually settled into staying home with each other and a bottle of wine (or something harder).

Given that this is our last Valentine's Day together alone, and our first as expectant parents, I feel that we should do something to mark the occasion (as does my wife who has hinted as much). If we mirrored last year, we'd have to lose the alcohol and Valentine's Day slips dangerously close to "Ordering Pizza on a Wednesday."

So when your nights are cut short by biology and you've traded your sloshy nights for teetotaling, what's left? Not to mention, on top of the biological limitations, we're a few short weeks away from assuming significant mortgage debt.

I know I'd be happy to share a couch, cuddle up, and watch new episodes of "Lost." But, if I've learned one thing about marriage, it ain't about me, it's about us. I know there are great ideas out there, I've just got to find them. And when I do, I'm happy to sell them to anyone for the right price.

More Blobby Baby Photos

At ten weeks old, this is what my unborn child looks like. It is still way to early to tell whether it is a boy or girl, or even a human. From the looks of it, this one-inch creature is either going to be a baby human, a tadpole, or possibly some kind of flying rodent.

I will keep you posted on what this amorphous blog becomes.

This Week in Fatherhood

This week in fatherhood publicizes and celebrates fathers across the globe. We laugh at their foibles, chuckle at their misfortune, and remind ourselves that there are no prerequisites to fatherhood. Let us all learn from their idiocy in a special sports-themed edition of "This Week in Fatherhood."

• I think de la Hoya missed a great chance. Not only does father know all of sons physical weaknesses, but emotional, as well - "Now Oscar, when you get in close, you whisper right into his ear that Fluffy never made it to that farm in the country with the other dogs."
• Yeah, I remember when I was old enough to beat my father for the first time. I was 8 and the game was Super Mario Bros.
• My child should be so good at a sport that I heckle and get attacked by his coach.
  
• One thing I, personally, am looking forward to is living my athletic fantasies vicariously through my children. With the Super Bowl just 18 hours away, I wonder if Archie Manning is thinking the same thing.
  

One Baby: Free to Good Home, Some Upkeep Necessary

I get some warranted grief from my wife from time to time - sometimes about money. I do most of the budgeting for us and have set up pretty regimented line item expenditures. Then I don't pay attention to them. For every time I've said that we should buy our alcohol in bulk or ration what we have to last a week, I trot home from the beer store later that week with a six-pack. It happens.

As DINKs, that's not necessarily a bad thing, it just means that less money is being saved per month. As future parents, well, that can be sticky.

This is not a post of me bitching about money (at least, not too much). We all have money problems in some form - we want more, we have less, we should be saving, we owe too much, you name it, and the average American faces it.

Since we put our noses to the grindstone to save money for a home (pre-conception), we were doing pretty well. Now, however, the money is still there, but it has places to go.

That's the funny thing about a baby. For the most part, they are free to create (unless you are this couple). But once they pop out, well, the budget changes.

The government estimates that raising a child to age 18 costs upwards of $180,000 - not including college and not adjusted for inflation. Yikes.

Last year, I wasn't thinking past the weekend; today, I've been thinking about moving this spring, buying baby furniture this summer, giving my baby all it will need this fall, and putting my baby into daycare this winter. Rattles and cribs and bibs, oh my!

Much as I think I drink like a champion, I don't think that cutting back or down on my weekly beer will spread the money around for my family. The cuts will run deeper than that. Fortunately, the line items "Eating Out" and "Entertainment" will be replaced with "Leftovers" and "Watching My Baby Smile," which are free.

Hey, does anyone know a mortgage that accepts baby smiles?

Prophecy Fulfilled

This post's title is a very pleasant way to say, "OhMyGod, OurOfferWasAcceptedAndWeAreGoingToBuyACondominium, HolyShitThisIsGreatAndScaryAtTheSameTime!"

As predicted by yours truly, here.

Fun fact, we bought a two-bedroom condo for ten times what my parents paid for the home I grew up in (garish yellow kitchen included).

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go secure a mortgage, and a home inspector, and an apprasier, and buy some furniture.