Happy Third Trimester Day

Big day. The three of us - Wife, the Kicker, and me - just started the last third of this wild pregnancy. 


10:00AM - Today started out with a mission. Here's the deal: Wife still hasn't changed her last name to mine. It's been almost 4 years since we got married. It's not like we haven't tried to change her last name, it's just been a long process.........of not actually trying. After the wedding, life was kind of wild and we had to move around a bit. Once we got settled in a place, we made a pact that we would at least try and change her last name by the time we had a baby. Well guess what? Re-read the title if you must, the clock's almost expired - it's time to take care of business.


Last year, we were thinking of getting passports and figured that would be reason enough to change the last name. When we went to the courthouse, they told us we were in the wrong county. They told us to go to the original county where we got the marriage license. Shucks. All that work for nothing. How do we respond to that setback? We go to Canada the month before they make the mandatory passport rule. Take that lawmakers. 


Fast forward to last week. Wife sees fit to fill our day off together by wanting to get her last name changed. That's cool with me. She's fun to hang with. We walk onto the 7th floor of courthouse number two. 
(my thoughts in italics)


Sassy lady: Can I help you? 
Me: Yes, we would like to get my wife's name changed.
Sassy lady: Let me see what you have.
(we hand over our papers)
Sassy lady: You know this is from 3 years ago!!
I'm aware we're not on top of this post-marriage task. But better late than never Miss Sassy pants.
Me: Yes yes, that's when we got hitched! Thought we'd take our time!
Well that was the stupidest thing you could have said. She's clearly not into your dull attempt at humor.
Sassy lady: Well this ain't gonna work. You're in the wrong building. You're not even in the right county. 
Of course.
Sassy lady: What you're gonna have to do is...mumbo jumbo mumbo jumbo.......
This happens every time. Important information is being communicated to my ears. I hear it, but I don't understand it. None of what she says is being processed right now. Except.......
Sassy lady: ...300 dollars...mumbo jumbo mumbo jumbo.......
There it is. It's all white noise until a price is named. Wrong place - check. We owe someone a mass amount of money - check.
Sassy lady: Go over to that counter (pointing) and they'll give you more information. 


All I can do is rapidly blink. Thanks to Wife, we somehow spoke to someone who helped straighten this thing out. We paid two bucks for a copy of an important form and got an address to a building in another county to get the name changed. 


Fast forward again to today. Another day off, another day attempting to get that name changed. We went to the right building. We took a number, then sat in the waiting area hoping today may be the day she gets her name finally changed. Then 10 feet away at our 1 o'clock, we hear it.......


Crazy woman: Aboosha boo! A boo boo boo! Hewo wittle wan! Who's my wittle man?
Me: (whispering) What....was......THAT?
Wife: (talking normal level) Some lady is over there talking to that baby in baby-talk!
Me: (whispering) Please saw my ears of right now.
Wife: (talking above normal level) Who does that, it's SO ANNOYING!
Me: (whispering) She may be annoying, but she's not deaf. 
Crazy woman: A woo woo hoo! Ba ba ba baby! walalalawoo!
Me: Ok, I'm going to go smash my head against a wall.
Wife: I hope no one talks to our kid like that. 
Me: That's not even a language. How can the baby ever learn to talk when he's spoken to in a non-existent dialect?
Announcement: U254, U254
Wife: That's us. Let's go, I can't take this anymore.


It was a seamless process. Name changed. The powers that be officially know that Wife now has a different last name.


Jordan fades back....swoosh! And that's the game! Oh and a bit of advice if you ever plan on taking a tour of every courthouse in Northeast Ohio like we did: Don't carry a pocket knife with you. The police will not hold on to it for you while you're wandering around their building. But if you happen to forget that tidbit of advice, give me a call. I have a few secret knife-burial spots in front of the courthouses around the landscaping. Boom.


Just when I thought the name-change business is over...
Wife: Finally! Now I'm gonna have to change my license, notify HR, get a library card, let the bank know.......
Me: Woah woah whoa. Let's not be too hasty. I say we wait a while to notify everything else.
Wife: That makes no sense.
Me: Think about it. You exist in this amorphous grey area with two names. You can commit a crime under one name, and you're really another. We could transfer a bunch of money to some offshore bank account under one name, and pick it up under your new name. They'll be busy chasing the old you that doesn't exist! Keep all your old documents! The Man will never catch on!
Wife: You have some issues you need to work through. 
Me: Opportunity of a lifetime. All I'm sayin'.




Another sign of the changing times hit later today. After we had returned home, and I fed Wife (she had a mad craving for a particular dish we shared with some friends three-and-a-half years ago. My buddy Sea-Jay made these little pizzas out of a french baguette, and Wife wanted one of those exactly. We made them, and they were tasty.). 


I then took to the park for a bike ride. Everything is soaked because we've been trapped under another one of the 278 yearly low pressure systems that get comfortable around Cleveland. Either way, I needed some fresh air. Some days when I bike, I pretend I'm running from the Law. Today was one of those days. Nothing stands in the way of me and warp speed on two wheels. 


Zipping through the paved trail, I recall entering into a wooded area. Last time I went through this area it was a lush green forest. On this day - the day of the Third Trimester - there were red leaves, and yellow leaves, and leaves falling. Fall is making it's presence known. I immediately stopped running from the law and realized something: 

it's time to start getting used to all these changes. 

Perhaps it's poetic that on the day we enter into the Third Trimester we also get a name changed and see all the leaves change too. Shocking as these changes may be, these are great changes! It's fall 'yall! Who doesn't like hot apple cider, leaves, hiking, cool air, football, and pumpkins? And Wife officially shares my last name. Now our leasing office won't have to assume we're just living together but that we're actually married! 


And the coolest change is what's been happening with the Kicker. The books say his iris's can react to light, his lungs are maturing, he can move in rhythm to music (something I still can't do), he's about 15 inches long and if the Kicker were born right now, he'd have a pretty good chance at survival. Really neat. 


These are some changes I can get used to.

Feeling in the fall mood? Read on! 

http://cneading.wordpress.com/2011/09/29/i-love-fall-part-2-lynd-farms/

How To Wake Up

Here are a variety of things that bother me greatly:

Oreo Packages: The guy who thought it was a great idea to put a resealable opening on the top of the Oreo package must have forgotten about the first and third columns of Oreo's on the side; because they're almost impossible to get to. Oreo's have a strange power over people - me especially. When I get a jonesing for Oreo's, there should be nothing standing in my way. Unfortunately, the stupid opening on top of the package only allows for fast cookie grabbing of the middle column of Oreo's. Once that column is gone, there's no getting the blasted Oreo's from the side. There is virtually no room to grab the Oreo's from. I stand there with the fridge door open (yes, we keep our Oreo's in the fridge) and begin a wrestling match with a pack of cookies. It takes time, the fridge door is letting out all that paid for cold air, and the Oreo's are teasing me!! Should you come over to our place and take a look at our Oreo package, you may find it looking like a raccoon tried tearing into it. Now you know why.


Unnecessary Technology: Not only could this topic take up it's own entry, but I could dedicate a whole other blog to unnecessary technology. I give Wife a lot of credit for putting up with my rants about unnecessary stupid stuff. I almost lost my mind the other day while watching TV. I was minding my own business when Ford decided to pick a fight with me. They wanted to see how I would handle one of the new features on their car. First of all, the woman who was driving the car was way too excited..."Wow! My old car could never do that!" Relax. As she's driving and obsessing about the new car, the voice over man pointed out the new feature: "Select models carry a feature that lights up on the side-view mirror when another car gets too close to you or passes!" A new feature??? I've actually had that feature on all my cars.........I call that feature "my eyeballs." 


Spilling: You would think that spilling a drink is a child's problem. Well then call me a child. The worst part about spilling is that I have no one to blame except myself. Here's how it typically goes down: I sit on ground with large cup of water. My brain is fully conscious that there is a cup in play. After 2 seconds, eyes look at TV to watch show...brain immediately forgets about cup. As commercial time hits, brain tells body to get up fast to retrieve veggie sticks from kitchen. Brain neglects to tell body about full cup to the left. Some flailing body part makes connection with cup, and careens it across room. I think the worst part of spilling is the feeling of absolute helplessness. Gravity works way faster that I do. Once that cup is horizontal, the brain can only send one message to the rest of the body....Noooooooooooo! 

Hours go by after the spill. Just when you think you've dealt with the spill completely and it's out of your mind, you step in the wet spot while wearing socks. "Why does it feel like I'm walking in swamp in my living room?!" All time low. 


Loud Noises: I have an incredible talent; I can relax better than anyone. My heart rate drops to almost 5bpm and my mind goes to worlds far away. But occasionally, I'll be jolted by the most unholy of loud noises. It physically hurts. My heart goes from 5bpm to about 500bmp (I've measured), and my brain doesn't know what to do so it just emits a loud, high pitched screeching noise. My first thoughts are How can this be!? Go crush whatever is alarming you! No lies. These noises can be any one of the following: my cellphone, a slamming door (because all the windows are open), a person yelling my name, The View, a Fred Martin Superstore car commercial, Tyra Banks talking about herself, Tom Hamilton calling a long fly ball out, Grey's Anatomy, my guinea pig squeaking for food, pop music, cups spilling, and my cellphone. 


Uncovered Food In the Microwave: It's not that difficult. Put a napkin over your food while heating it in the microwave. If you don't, the food ends up all over the inside of the microwave. It soon looks like a spaghetti-o grenade went off in there. My mom taught me to cover my food in the microwave before she showed me how to ride a bike. I've been an avid food coverer for years. Wife on the other hand is not a practicing food coverer. I've attempted to convert her many times. But she repeatedly goes behind my back with her big bowls of macaroni and cheese and leaves them uncovered to wreak havoc on our microwave.  


Awaking From My Slumber: I used to be the lightest sleeper in the world. Now that I'm older, sleeping hours are more valuable; and I'm convinced that I slip into a semi-coma when I sleep. When the alarm goes off in the a.m., my first thought is always, "Who super glued my eyes shut??" It's a terrible feeling. It's no fun at all to have to wake up when the body is not ready.

___________________________________________________________

Whenever I get into baby conversations with someone who has already had a baby, I always get the "Wait 'till you have to wake up every 3 hours to feed! Then you still have to go to work the next day!" Thank you for making this intimidating experience a little easier on me. Your words have brought a sense of calmness to my mind now. Please don't stop with the stories, can I hear more of your awesome advice?


This is scary news. I'm not crazy about being awaken from my slumber. Here's what I've noticed though...I find it far easier to wake up when I'm looking forward to the next day. If we're leaving for a trip, or going away for the day, I get excited in the morning and jump out of bed and start rolling. Even if I can't wait to cook breakfast for me and Wife, I find it easy to get out of bed. 


But what about when the baby cries because it's feeding time? What will happen when Wife nudges me that it's my turn to go feed the hungry newborn. I hear that babies sometimes can cry themselves back to sleep. Maybe we can give that a try or two sometime...........Just playin'. Chill out. 


When I was sitting with Wife the other day, I had one hand on her belly feeling the Kicker go to town. He loves to dance, or roll, or something. He's busy though. While feeling the kicks, Wife showed me a new trick she found out: There are harder spots on her stomach that are areas where Kicker (the baby) is actually pressing up against. I felt this area and she seemed correct. Then I got a surprise:


Wife: Can you feel it?
Me: Yes, it just feels like you have solid abs in this one spot.
Wife: Well press down a little bit.
Me: Will I hurt anything?
Wife: No, just try it.
What happened next is tough to describe. But as I pushed down, the hard spot just disappeared. Within a half second though, the baby punched that spot right back! It was like he was saying, 'Hey, I was comfortable until you started pressing down. Back off please.'


I got the biggest kick out of this (pun intended). The baby was trying to connect with me. I wanted to pick him up and hold him right there. Unfortunately, I kept pressing all over Wife's stomach about a million more times to evoke similar kick. This may have bothered her.


Early morning feedings will be tough. Probably the toughest part about having a newborn. The good part is that I'm looking forward to holding the Kicker. When super glue eye syndrome hits at the wee hours, there is something worth jumping out of bed and opening my eyes for.

Cheese Fries

Go back to being a youngster for a second. Think age 8-12. Remember watching movies at that age? You may see a good movie, then immediately want to be that movie when it was over. Maybe you saw a cowboy movie as a kid, then "cowboy" was your thing for a while. I repeatedly watched "The Sandlot", "Independence Day", and "Cleveland Rocks: The Story of the 1995 Cleveland Indians" when I was young. After every movie, I went outside to either play home run derby with the brothers, kill a bunch of imaginary aliens, or reenact scenes from the '95 playoffs. It only took two hours of well scripted cinema to shape the mind of a 10 year old and inspire him to be big time baseball player, or world saving superhero. 


Confession: a good movie still has that effect on me at age 25. I recently watched a movie called "Food Inc." which shows how mass produced food is made. The facts were startling. As soon as the movie was over, I looked up all the local farmers markets in town and what their hours were. Then I saw a movie called "FoodMatters." It talks about how the human body can heal itself if given the correct vitamins and minerals through raw foods. 24 hours later I'm dragging Wife to the market to stock up on carrots, broccoli, peppers, and a bunch of other fresh-from-the-ground-foods that I never knew existed. 


It's sad. I used to dream of being a bottom of the 9th home run hitting World Series winning champion!!, or a swooping in at the last second - earth saving hero!!. Now documentaries on healthy food get me hyped to be.................a super health food proponent!!


Yawn. 


But that's the way it is. And this doesn't make Wife too happy. She is 2/3 the way through this pregnancy, and it hasn't been easy on her. Growing a human inside a uterus requires a lot of delicate attention. It's a sensitive process really. All the books I read talk about how so many variables affect the baby's growth and development in the womb. But because she is the one that has life growing inside of her, Wife isn't always up for hearing my latest health tips. (my thoughts in italics)


Me: Hey guess what!?
Wife: Yes.
Me: I just saw that a diet of at least 80% raw foods will deliver the best amount of natural vitamins and minerals that can help the body defend itself against diseases and fight off sickness.
Wife: Great.
This is a long shot, but...
Me: What do you think about eating a lot more raw fruits and vegetables while you're pregnant? It could help make a super baby!
Wife: I'm hungry. Wanna go out to eat?
 I know you're not asking me, this is your way of telling me. I'll call Winking Lizard right now and tell them to have a hot plate of cheese fries ready for you. 
Me: I guess we can go out. Where were you thinking?
Wife: Winking Lizard
Me: I see. What are you thinking about getting?
Wife: Cheese Fries


For the past 4 months, Winking Lizard has had a standing reservation for us. They see our car pull in and immediately the wait staff sends in for a plate of cheese fries. We've become good friends with the servers. We know them all by their first names, and will occasionally catch their kids' dance recitals. This has gone too far. There's no getting through to Wife. She and the cheese fries are insuperable. 


Me: You know the cheese they use on those fries isn't even real cheese. It's just a bunch of...
Wife: Do I talk to you about your food while you eat?
That's cuz you can't dis super foods.
Me: Sorry
____________________________________________________________
(fast forward a month)


Doctor: Tell me what's been happening.
Wife: While helping my husband chaperone his group yesterday, we spent a good 8 hours walking around Cedar Point. Halfway through the day. It became painful to walk, and I started to cramp up. 
Doctor: Well.........my guess is that the heavy walking has given you some early contractions. 
You mean because Wife helped me with my job all day, she's experiencing a bunch of pain?
Wife: What's that mean? Is this a problem?
Doctor: Well, we will have to run a test.
Wait! It wasn't her fault! She never even complained. 
Wife: For what?
Doctor: To see if you're at risk for a pre-term delivery in the next two weeks.
Woah, she'll be almost 3 months early. Way too early. 


We later received a call from the Doctor saying that there was nothing to worry about. The test came back negative.  


As it was mentioned earlier, growing a human inside a uterus is requires a lot of delicate attention. I'm not carrying the baby. As evidenced by the conversation with the doctor, it's hard on the body. I couldn't do that. I don't want to do that. It's scary, and it's too much responsibility. She deserves a trophy, an award, a prize, or.........cheese fries. That's the least I could do for her. Stop badgering her about health and nutrition and at least get the girl some fries covered with ooey, gooey, (all natural!) cheese. 

Located in Huron, Ohio, this farm will actually ship you their freshest veggies to you!! Wow!! 

www.chefs-garden.com/

The Most Dreaded: Part II

We left off with the pre-registry story last time (http://shockedasyouwere.blogspot.com/2011/09/most-dreaded-part-i.html if you need to catch up). Part II of the Dreaded Series continues the following week. Precisely one week from Saturday is - you bet - another Saturday. Fishing...no. Workouts...later. College Football...Nay. Saturday's are all about the baby, and he's not even here yet. This day is dedicated to the actual baby registry. It's sad when I have to put "the actual" in front so no one is confused. On with the saga.


Deja-Vu. Target, it's like we never left you. Not 60 seconds into the actual day of baby registry and I'm already miffed. There is a kiosk to enter your information into for registry. In my opinion, the questions were a bit too personal. (as always, my thoughts in italics)


Me: "Don't put that."
Wife: "Don't put what?"
Me: "Our apartment number at the end of the address line."
Wife: "Why wouldn't I put that?"
Me: "Because I don't want to give The Man too much information."
Wife: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "We'll still receive any mail, but I want to withhold some info just in case."
Wife: "What is wrong with you?"
You'll thank me later.


I'm not sure what it is. Maybe I watched one to many Bourne Identity movies. Why do "they" need all that info anyway? It's not just about the coups arriving at your door. They track your shopping habits, and tie that to your credit card, and study your spending history, and next thing you know..................I don't know about the next thing, but I bet it's something that could be avoided by not putting our apartment number. Whew, crisis avoided.


Before me and Wife can even begin to register, we see IT. The IT item I never want to speak of again. IT was right there in front of us being used by a mom and her baby. The item from last weeks pre-registry I scoffed at; IT was the shopping cart cover. 


Wife: "See, you put the cover down on the seated part of the cart, and the baby can sit right         there without touching the germy handle bar." 
Me: "And look at how she's carrying a diaper bag, purse, child, and shopping bags as well. Putting that thing in is like an Olympic event."
Wife: "We're getting it."
Me: "And burning it."


I got to carry the scanner gun. There is no way of carrying that piece to make it look manly at all.  I couldn't tell which way to point the stupid thing for the first 5 minutes. When I finally figured it out, I found it amusing to see how far you could point it and still see the red laser line. Midway through, I had it locked on the ceiling to create a beautiful laser show while Wife looked at bibs for about 10 minutes. This is my Saturday. 


_______________________________________________


Babies-R-Us is the next stop. They don't provide kiosks for registry, they had a kind lady do all that for us. It was a relief not to have to re-punch all the info in again, until........


Kind Lady: "Name?"
Wife: "Matt and Wife W."
Kind Lady: "Address?"
Wife: "1234 Main Road. Apartment number 124. Oh..." 


What did you do!!!!! Now The Man will be all over us!!! Our cover is blown. We have to move now.


Actually, I wasn't even that mad. What impressed me was how Wife reacted when she disclosed the apartment number. Her eyes got real big and she slowly turned to me. I stared at her with one of those now-look-what-you-did looks and said, "It's no big deal, don't worry about it." The Kind Lady probably thought we stashing large amounts of cocaine at that location and just gave it up to the Baby's-R-Us database. Maybe I should ease up a bit. 


One thing is for sure, baby books have changed since I was a tot. I used to read books that have a cover, various flat and papery pages, and another cover to hold all those pages in. Now books are outrageous. I needed sunglasses to look at a few of 'em due to the boisterous colors. What, are they trying to blind our kids?? And since when do pages jump out at you? I can appreciate a good pop-up as much as the next dad. But these were pop-ups on steroids. The next step were for the actual characters in the book to jump out and chase the reader. And books aren't supposed to make noises either. Since when was the sound of a parent's gentle voice reading the words not enough? Now there's mooing, oinking, laughing, and thunder all coming from a book. What gives?


The best part about Babies-R-Us was the colosseum of rocking chairs and gliders. I was able to chill for a while during the stresses of registry. And I managed to break one of the chairs as well. Who knew? Didn't see that one coming.


What bothered me the most about the baby registry is how darn wimpy all the stuff looked.  There wasn't one item that said, "Hey fathers, be proud to use this item while taking care of your child." No blacks, grays, wood patterns, or metal. I couldn't find one Cleveland sports related item to register for. The tipping point happened during the diaper bag registry:


Wife: "What do you think about diaper bags."
I freaking think a book bag will suffice.
Me: "I freaking think a book bag will suffice." 
Wife: "What about this one?"
It looks like something they carry on the Real Housewives of New York.
Me: "Whatever makes you happy sweets."
Wife: "Oooohhh! I like this bag, it looks just like a purse!"
That's what I want to hear. I can't wait to carry around a bag that resembles a purse.
Me: "Pleeeeease pick something else!"
________________________________________________


The pre-registry is over, the registry is over, and now the Shower is on the way. Will our loving husband make it out alive? Is it possible to be a man and attend a Shower? Found out on Part III of the Most Dreaded Series scheduled to post in late October. 


Get busy and spread the word about Shockedasyouwere. 

The Playlist: Track 3 "Man In the Mirror"

Playlist Monday surges forward with another fine selection added to the comprehensive list to have my child grow up on. No song list is complete without a quick shot from the King of Pop. Of course we're talking about the one, the only, the legendary, Michael Jackson. 


I recently had the privilege of meeting MJ a few weeks ago in Atlantic City. I was humbled to be in the presence of such a star. In all truth, the guy I met was actually an impersonator. But he was such a good impersonator it was like meeting the real MJ. See embarrassing picture at bottom of page. 


What good would MJ have to say to my baby boy? Throughout the Thrillers and Smooth Criminals, where lies the valuable song that will benefit my son for a lifetime to come? 


Option #1: Lengthy explanation: keep reading.
Option #2:  The get to the point explanation (aka - I'm only reading your blog b/c I'm related to you or know you well explanation): skip down to below the line.


(begin lengthy explanation)

Γνώθι σ 'αυτόν

The phrase highlighted above is written in Greek.  It was the inscription written above the entrance gates to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. Here's how the temple worked: on certain days of the month (usually the 7th), people would be able to go to the temple and ask the Oracle - a beautiful Greek woman whom the gods spoke through - any question they wanted and get an answer. Usually, questions fell along the lines of "Will we win this battle," "Who is the smartest person in the land," and so on. All questions were answered at this temple.


But the inscription above was written on the gates - in plain sight to anyone who entered the temple. The phrase - which translates to "Know Thyself" in English - was possibly the best answer to any question that could be asked to the Oracle. The Greeks thought this phrase to be so valuable, they saw it fitting to put out front for everyone to see. Why did they think this was so important? 


Greek philosopher Socrates believed that self knowledge was a prerequisite for a good life. Self awareness is important for any type of human growth and development, and it's the fundamental element.  Knowing thyself is being able to look in a mirror and recognize my strengths, and weak spots. It's being able to know how far to push my strengths before hubris sets in and weakness begins.  



In summary: It's important to be self aware.


_________________________________________________

(the abbreviated explanation starts here)


Sometimes on winter nights when Wife has gone off to work her late shifts and I'm home by myself, I get the urge to dance. Not ashamed. Judge if you'd like. I'll be the first to admit though, I'm far from a great dancer. But that's changed ever since I've been practicing with the Michael Jackson Experience for Wii!!! The MJE game is simple, dance along to MJ's best songs. I'm positive that Baby Whiz will be dancing to this video game before he's even walking. 


Not only does MJ have great dance moves, he has great advice. 

Playlist Monday Track #3: Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson

(feel free to listen to the song while reading a brief explanation)

This song message is simple: to make a change in the world you have to begin by making a change in yourself. While it's great advice and all, that's not the exact message I want to convey here on the Playlist to Baby Whiz. 


It's just about the simple act of being able to look in the mirror and getting to know oneself. Being able to recognize where his strengths and weaknesses lie so he can go on to be a force of positive change where he goes. Michael Jackson is siding with the ancient Greeks in that they're both claiming: Progress begins with an introspective examination. 


Simple terms: taking a look at yourself is a prerequisite for any positive change in this world. 


Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be getting back to the Michael Jackson Experience on Wii!! This is just a warning, do not play any MJ around me or Baby Whiz if you don't want us to start movin'. 


(cue embarrassing pic)

(that's http://cneading.wordpress.com/ there on the left. Pay a visit sometime.)

What's That Even Mean?

The results are in! A few weeks ago, a list was released that brought wonderful news to the state of Ohio. The Combos Brand unveiled it's 3rd annual Manliest Cities in America review (http://www.americasmanliestcities.com/). Wouldn't you know it, Cinci, Columbus, and Cleveland all finished in the top 20. I could never quite articulate it, but I always felt my testosterone levels drop whenever I exited the borders of The Heart of it All. 

Cleveland showed the strongest ranking of Buckeye cities coming in at a solid number six. I won't lie, I feel a bit of pride knowing that I help masculinize the 6th most masculine city in America. What's most surprising is that Cleveland jumped up nine spots from last year's rankings. This can only mean one thing: the creators of the list remembered that I live in Cleveland and then factored that into this year's results. Hence the sudden spike in manliness for The Forest City. 

How did the Combos Brand come to the results of these rankings? Here are a few things (besides my masculine presence) that helped determine the manliness of a city:

• Sports - number of pro sports teams and other sports related qualities of a city (thank goodness they didn't count number of championships won after 1964).
• Manly Lifestyle - manly behaviors analyzed such as number of pickup trucks owned, fishing equipment, rodeos, home improvement, motorcycles, etc.
• Concentration of Manly retail stores - fishing/hunting shops, BBQ's, etc.
• Manly Occupations - firefighters, police, EMT, and construction job.

Manly Kryptonite points were also taken off of each cities total for the number of: home decor stores, cafe's/coffee shops, sushi restaurants, "modern" male apparel stores, and cupcake shops.

___________________________________

As mentioned just below the title of this site, I'm not only dedicated to discussing fatherhood and husbandry, but also the responsibilities of being a man. Here is the biggest issue with discussing the responsibilities of being a man: What the heck is a "man" these days?

If the Combos Brand is right, does that mean a guy who picks up Starbucks before he goes to his job in fashion merchandising then meets his buddy for sushi later isn't manly? Do those things make him less of a man? 

I have to think about these questions. While much of this may not pertain to you the reader, understand that if I don't have answers to these questions, I lose credibility at my job. I may have a student who feels less manly because he's more prone to pick up a violin before a barbell. So I have to have a good understanding of manliness if I ever expect to communicate the role of a man to a younger generation (note: that sentence reads just as well by replacing the "I" with "we", give it a try and the responsibility becomes yours as well). 

The question of manhood becomes even more tangled with confusion when we factor in the themes of today's culture. When a female pop star dresses as an Italian teenager, and our male hip-hop artists wear Jeggings, we see a massive grey area in our feminine and masculine roles. Be whatever you want, do whatever you want. 

So what do we say to our violin toting male? Or our frappe drinking fashion merchandiser? More importantly, what do I tell Baby Whiz about being a man? Will his understanding of masculinity be based on his dad? Should men be whatever they want, or do whatever they want???????

I'll spare you the elevendy billion word expository on masculinity and let you know this: Men have a definitive role. In their families, relationships, work, and recreation. It's a heavy responsibility. But the responsibility doesn't center around leadership, or being strong, or making the decisions. It's based on love. So you can run and tell that...homeboy. 

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The guys of this world need advice. More important, my son is going to need advice. So let's come full circle and make...............................a list! List's are always right. 

This list will be advice to guys about being a guy:

• Be confident. Don't be afraid to be who you are.
• Always carry a pocket knife. People will make fun of you, but then they'll be the first ones to ask your help when their feet and hands are roped together by bank robbers - or if they just need help opening Christmas presents. Either one.
• Stand up for people who are getting picked on. 
• Always look out for your mother.
• When you find that special lady, love her more than yourself. 
• And listen to Van Zant when they say: "Don't get too high on the bottle, just a little sip every now and then. Fight your fights, find the grace in all the things that you can't change. And help somebody if you can. And get right with the Man." 

Would love to hear your opinions on which advice should be added to the list. What do you think the guys of this world should always know???

Gosh, all this masculine talk is exhausting. There's only one thing more stressful in this world than trying to raise a little boy:

Raising a little girl. Good luck to whoever has that responsibility on their hands. I know I couldn't do it. I may find myself starting to worry about "guns, weddings, and clothes and all the other stuff that goes along with raising a little girl". Sheesh. 

(http://cneading.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/a-pink-world/ read it, you won't be disappointed).

The Most Dreaded: Part I

Saturdays are great. My job occasionally (about half the time) requires me to work on Saturdays. When a Saturday comes along that nothing is happening, I very much treasure those hours. I fill them with sleeping in, working out, cleaning, running, sitting on the porch and reading...you get the idea. But one of my recent Saturdays was tragically ruined, and it started late one Friday evening. (Remember, my thoughts are in italics).

The setting: a small two-bedroom apartment with a killer sixth floor view facing the west.
The characters: Matt (me) - a father-to-be who works hard to support his wife, gives to charity, helps baby animals, is environmentally conscious, and advocates world peace. Married to...Wife - a master mind who carefully crafts mental domination over her husband, appears innocent and sweet on the outside but carries the "master plan" on the inside, and accuses husband of making up complicated words when they're actually real.
The time: Late Friday evening.

We find Matt on the computer checking on when the next UFC fight will be and where. He's also following the Cleveland Indians game online pitch-by-pitch (this is due to the lack of cable). Furthermore, he's keeping up on the latest training camp notes about the Browns. While in the zone, he hears a question echo from across the room.

"Who should we invite to the baby shower?" asks Wife as she sits on the couch with a notebook in hand and a pen ready.

Well timed Wife. Between innings and finding out about the next fight, I was actually thinking about who we can invite to the baby shower as well. Matter of fact, I was about to abruptly turn and ask you the same, but you beat me to it. Gosh, you know me too well. Keep answer concise. 


"Ummmm, I don't know," I respond. "What were you thinking?" Make her make the first move. 


"Weeeelllllll," she begins, "I think we should........something something....then put the whatever somewhere.......then mail out on the somethingth of a month......"Darn, lost her with the first 5 words but try real hard not to get distracted, or she'll get mad. "then fold the papermajig....and the people from whoknowswhere........" Focus, DO NOT turn back to the computer to check the score. She'll call you on it. Focus! "and put the other invites somewhere where something something something......but we should text to get an address from a name you'll never remember.....and you could probably handle that....." Don't turn away please! "do you need me to write........then we can email to see if they still.......call.....there......when.......are.......you......there..............." Hmmm, how did we give up that run? When will our starting pitching....


"MATTHEW!"

That's my full name. And that's not good.


My guess is that I would get in a lot less trouble if there weren't so many distractions around. Have you ever tried talking to a dog when all of a sudden, the dog sees a squirrel and takes off after it while you're mid-sentence? I think that's how Wife feels while talking to me. I feel sorry. But she brought up baby shower invites. Thanks for wanting to talk about the most boring subject in the world.

Why can't she ever ask me questions that are actually going on in MY mind? Something like, "Do you think you can jump from this balcony to that tree branch and not fall?" Or, "Is it possible to leap from each piece of furniture without hitting the ground?" Or, "What would our feet look like if we never wore shoes?" To those questions, I can give full attention and well thought out answers.

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Fast forward to the following Saturday morning. Since Wife has been so good at dropping questions like bombs out of the sky in the past 12 hours, she tries to continue the trend with this one:

"When do you want to go pre-register today?"


Pre-register? Pre-register what? My car? For a race? What is this pre-register you speak of? "What are you talking about?" is the only response I can muster.

Then came the lengthy explanation, "Well, we have to go look at both Target and Babies-R-Us to see which items we want to register for at each. I don't want to register for a stroller at Target, then see a better one at Babies-R-Us. We need to go today and make a list of which items we want from which store so they don't overlap."

Oh silly me. Obviously that's why we need to venture out on this wonderful Saturday. Because registering for baby stuff isn't hard enough, we have to PRE-register. Excuse me while I celebrate PRE-Opening Day for the Indians. 


It's been a while since I've actually paid any attention to the baby aisles in a store. Check that, this is the first time I have ever paid any attention to the baby aisles in a store. Things sure have changes since I was a kid. I remember my pack n' play when I was a tot. It was a hard base with netted walls on the sides in plain white. Now a pack n' play is comparable to a Sandals Beach Resort for adults. The pack 'n plays have two levels, both with extreme comfort padding. There is an attached changing table with a half-a-million pockets and compartments to hold who knows what. There is the retractable dome on top to provide shade, and allow the baby to play a full nine inning game with no rain delays in a controlled climate. There is a spot to attach a swinging mobile that will soothe baby to sleep. And to top it off, an attached music player; just in case the baby wants to host his first pack 'n play party when the parents are out of town. BYOB (bring your own bottle).

There are so many safety requirements for these products too. I have a real issue with the car seats. Let me clarify, I want my child to be safe. Very safe. Safety first. But when I saw the height and weight requirements for the car seats, I almost passed out. 100 lbs and 57 inches. As a late bloomer in my earlier years, I don't think I hit those numbers until I was in 9th grade. Can you imagine? I roll up to my first day of high school, mom comes by and unstraps me from my car seat, hands me my lunch, and says, "Enjoy your first day of classes!" That's exactly how you want to start your freshman year. What's ironic is that the very next year I was old enough to drive the exact same car I spent strapped in the year before.

Before we left, one particular item caught Wife's eye. It's called a shopping cart cover. "We definitely need to register for one of those." She says. It's supposed to prevent the baby from catching viruses by providing a barrier between baby and shopping cart. I never had one as a kid and I'm fine, so why should my baby? As I looked at it's flowery pattern I thought, There is no way we are registering for a goofy product like that.

The pre-registry day was full of note taking and testing out products. The scary part, it was only half the battle. We still need to endure the actual registering and the, wait for it.....baby shower.


Stay tuned for Part II of the Most Dreaded saga. How did the actual registry go? Did Matt survive the baby shower? How will this end? Subscribe to my Twitter feed, or the email, or become a member (shameless plugs) to find out before anyone else!!!