The Most Dreaded: Part III

Part III: The Shower

The final chapter to the Most Dreaded trilogy concludes here. To sum up the series, we had a pre-registry experience, and a registry experience. We end the saga with the actual shower today. Here are the links if you'd like to read both Part I and Part II in full.


I remember May. That's when we had our first conversation about the baby shower. When Wife brought up the idea of me going, I confidently refused. I based my reasons for not going solely on my gender. There was no other reason besides that. "Well all the guys do it these days," she responded. Then she gave me about 10 guys we knew who were at their baby showers. I didn't care. 


There was no way I'm going to place myself in a room full of pastel blue colors and balloons. She constantly tried to sway my stance by telling me that's not how it would be. Didn't work. This was a ridiculous battle. I've been known to give into a variety of arguments, but this was one she was not going to win. 


It's October now, and I'm staring at my closet trying to figure out what to wear to a baby shower. I'm going. While staring blankly at my clothes, I tried tracing back the last few months to figure out how I got involved in this. I may actually remember. Now that I think about it, every time Wife would mention the shower to someone, she just casually talked like I was going. Over time, I think I just to slowly began to believe that I was going too. Next thing I know, I'm picking out what to wear for a baby shower. Just like that.  


I ended up deciding on a purple striped V-neck t-shirt. My reasons for the purple tee: I feel most comfortable in V-neck tee's, and comfort will be important today. Purple is also a color that represents royalty and nobility. This will help show my authority. To top it off, I went with jeans and work boots. I figured it would show my tough side. Kind of like a yin/yang look I think. 


While driving to the shower, we came to blows over a matter that has been for the most part quiet. Being the end of October and all, the temperature has dropped significantly. Any normal person would layer on a few more clothes and turn the heat up in the car. Well apparently, those rules don't work for pregnant ladies. I haven't felt my fingers or toes for 3 weeks now. Our windows in the apartment are always cracked open. During the car ride to the shower, Wife decided to roll down her window a bit. I was not happy with this.


Me: Seriously, are you trying to turn me into Frosty or something? I'm freezin' over here. 
Wife: What are you talking about? It's stuffy and hot?
Me: Stuffy and hot? Sauna's are stuffy and hot. This is the North Pole. 
Wife: Sorry about it. You should wear more clothes. 
Me: No, I'm tired of this. I haven't warmed up in 3 weeks now!
Wife: Let me feel your hand...


She grabbed my hand. 


Me: What's wrong with your hands? They feel like they're running a fever.
Wife: Wow, your hands are cold. That's not good.
Me: I know. Can you roll up the window please? I can't even drive.
Wife: No. I'm hot. Doctor said it's all about how I feel while I'm pregnant. Including the temperature.
Me: Did she also dip you in a vat of molten lava when I wasn't looking? 


We arrived. Ready to party. First thing I see is a number of women dressed in purple. They must know about the royalty and nobility too. And everyone is dressed kind of nice. When I went to the rest room, I checked the mirror. What was I thinking? Really? A purple striped t shirt with jeans and work boots? How can I dress my soon-to-be-born son when I can't even dress myself? I put zero - well, actually the wrong - thought into what I was going to wear. For an occasion that promises a massive female turnout, I did a bad job at caring for my appearance. It looks like I spun the roulette wheel of party wear and missed bad. 


The whole shower happened fast. There were a lot of people we knew.  Much time and effort went into throwing this party together. It was...fun. There were two tables stretched end to end, and they were loaded with gifts. There was a lot of food too. We opened gift after gift after gift. And we got to see and talk with people we haven't seen in a while. This shower will help us get off to a great start with a newborn.


I remember opening one gift in particular that was wrapped in a bag of glitter. Like all glitter, this stuff poured all over my lap and arms and shirt. When we finished opening that gift up, I looked like a sunlit vampire from the Twilight series. All shiny. That was a perfect touch to my purple outfit. 


All the people and all the gifts. Family and friends. We're lucky. Actually, the Kicker is lucky. He's going to be born into an environment were there are so many people that care about him. That's what this shower showed. I'm glad I went. And we were thankful for everyone who celebrated with us. 


Afterwards, we loaded the booty into a couple cars and headed home. Living off the first floor creates a challenge when transporting 9 tons of baby gifts. But it happened. And it was cool.

No room to stand in the elevator!!!

Once we hauled the baby's stuff upstairs, everything was put into the empty room to be sorted later. 

Wife with the loot. Still can't believe we got that much. 

There you have it. Successfully conquered a baby shower while wearing a purple t shirt and boots. I feel invincible. Now I got to pack a bag to take to the hospital when it's labor time. 

It's All About the W

This past summer, I got the chance to eat in the Patron Platinum Lounge at the Q Arena and hear Coach Byron Scott talk. He said many things. But one thing he talked about that stuck....

Winning

The man knows how to win. He's got NBA championship rings, he's coached in the Finals, etc. He talked about how winning is an attitude, an approach, a lifestyle. Winning is an expectation. Not just improvement, not getting better, but complete winning. 


He confidently told listeners that as Coach of the Cavs, he expects to win. Because he is a winner. That's how he described himself...as a winner. 


I remember my last at bat of my High School baseball years. Playing our cross-town rivals, their ace had worked all the way into the last inning. They were up by a couple runs, there were two outs, we had a couple guys on base, and we were down to our last out. Who comes up to bat? You know it. I walked into the batters box confidently. A fan of theirs yelled out, "I'd hate to be you 47!" That was my number. And I thought to myself, I'll make you eat your words with one swing. Then...........Strike one. Strike two. Strike three. Game over, season over, baseball over. 


That was not supposed to happen.


Winning never came easy for whatever team I competed on. The only championship I remember winning was with my 4th grade basketball team. We were the Seven Hills Cavs, and we finished #1. That's it. To this date, I haven't experienced a trophy since. 


(Being a fan of a city that hasn't celebrated a championship since 1964 doesn't help either)



The other day, I watched a group of kids crowded together asking for a football from a Browns player. The player threw a bunch of balls into the crowd of kids. Only about half of the kids were able to catch and keep a ball. It may not seem like much, but it's tough for a kid not to have a ball when everyone else does. At first I'm thinking, c'mon and find a way to get all the kids a ball man. Then I figured, guess some of them kids got to know what it's like not to have one. 



I want my son - and possible future children - to be winners. I want them to walk around with the attitude of winning. I want them to expect to win and succeed at what they do. But I also want them to fail. I want 'em to fall hard and not get what they were working for. 


He's got to know what it's like to not have, so he know's what it's like to have. He's gotta hurt in losing so experiencing a win will be even more appreciated. Eventually, he'll be able to see what it takes to win, to succeed, and to excel wherever he puts his efforts. The losses will be a learning experience. He'll learn how to respond when he doesn't get a football tossed into a crowd, or strikes out to end a game, or bricks a last second shot, or fails a spelling test, or doesn't get into the college he wanted to.


How we respond in our losses reveals who we are on the inside. And I hope he can be proud of the way he responds in the loss, so he can learn how to win. 

Off Days Are Now On Days

When did the off day become the busiest day of the week? It was great when the off day meant unlimited possibilities. Now the off day means check marks in the boxes of a to-do list. Has this  happened to you? 


Today was one such example.....


We had a doctor's appointment to check on the baby early this morning. Wife says early appointments are better because you don't get backed up in the waiting room like later in the day. She's right; but now I'm dozing off while reading the news and surrounded by pregnant ladies. Being at these 2 week check ups makes me feel like I'm an important part of the baby process. It makes me feel all grown up and mature asking important questions about the baby.


Still on the topic of being all grown up. The nurse showed us into the room. I went to take my keys out of my pocket and noticed my fly was wide open. Not just cracked open or halfway unzipped; it was as if my zipper called in sick that day and didn't show up for work. At least I hadn't spent the last 23 minutes in a waiting room full of ladies, then standing around a bunch of nurses while Wife's blood pressure was being taken. Could you have imagined if that would have happened?!


There's never a moment so awkward as when you're all alone with your significant other waiting for the nurse. It's like regressing to the moment in the relationship when you both first met. The room sits in complete quiet. Any talking we do is at whisper level for some reason. To break the weird silence, I decided to ask Wife a question I'd been thinking about.


Me: What should we do with the chord blood?
Wife: Nothing. There's no way we can afford to have it frozen and stored.
Me: Idea. What if we took the chord blood and froze it ourselves. Just in case we needed it for a major operation someday (before you wince in disgust, chord blood contains essential stem cells that can treat major diseases or something. Most effective when used within family)
Wife: That's illegal. They didn't let you keep your appendix when they removed that did they?
Me: That's not fair though. It was MY appendix. I grew up with it. Same with the chord blood. 
Wife: It's disgusting. We'll donate it. I'm not having chord blood frozen in our home somewhere.
Me: Fine....................Think it's still possible to get my appendix back?


We headed downtown after the appointment to meet with our financial advisor. She does an incredible job helping us situate our finances and make smart money choices. We thought it wise to seek her counsel with how to strategically allocate our monies with a baby on the way. We sat and spoke for about 3 hours. We left with a plan in place and completely exhausted.  


We got home a full work shift - 8 hours - after we had left in the morning. 


Winding down with a movie sounded good. Wife suggested the movie Sanctum. It's about a team of spelunking cave adventurers that get trapped in the worlds largest underground cave. The whole movie consisted of people swimming and crawling through narrow and closed passes. This was perfect for a guy who's claustrophobic.


Let's be clear about one thing: I'm not afraid of encloses spaces.......I just start to pass out if I happen to have no exit in a small space. There's a difference. After spending the whole movie with my head between my knees to keep the blood flowing to my brain, the movie ended. 


This was the "off day." Waiting, fly open, doctors, driving, downtown, meetings, scary dumb movies, etc. Is this how to spend our time off?


It's good though. What kind of parent's would we be if we weren't taking the proper precautions for the baby? We have peace of mind that his heartbeat is normal, and his health is in check. We're prepared for the delivery. We are taking the right financial steps in considering his future. Watching a movie that induces my fear of enclosed places really has nothing to do with preparing for the baby. But everything else is worth the busy off day. 


He better thank us someday.

Tough Mudder

Sitting around the apt the other day, I wanted to tell Wife some great news. Full of emotion and excitement, I broke this to her........


Me: Check this video out. I'm doing this in April!


We proceed to watch this clip......

Me: I'm so jacked, I can't wait.
Wife: Yeah, you're not doing that.
Me: What?!
Wife: You're gonna get yourself killed. I don't need our new baby with a dad that got shocked to death at the finish line of some stupid race. 
Me: It's only 10,000 volts. I'll be fine.
Wife: That might be the dumbest idea I've ever seen. What's wrong with just staying home?
Me: It's a way to prove I'm a warrior.
Wife: Then go for a jog through the woods or something. 


Should have seen this coming. Wife and I have been together for almost 9 years now (5 dating 4 married). In that amount of time, I should have known how to better approach her with this news. 


She asks a great question though, "What's wrong with just staying at home?" My response was slightly exaggerated - the part about being a warrior. But really, sometimes a guy just has to prove something to himself. Right? 

• Maybe a there is a broken blender in the house. Guy wants to take it apart and fix it, Girl wants to go get a new one from Target. (we got a new one from Target, I couldn't figure the stupid thing out).
• Where can we put our keys to keep them in one spot? Guy wants to build a keyring holder for the wall, Girl wants to buy one that matches the rest of the room. (We presently have a non-matching makeshift keyring holder built by yours truly). 
• Traveling to some relatives house that you haven't been to in a while? Guy swears he can find the place from memory, Girl wants to alleviate any threat of being lost by bringing a GPS just to be safe. (We've done both plenty of times, but when we do have the GPS, I pretend not to look at it)

Why the need to do unnecessary things when there are other - usually safer and less stressed - options? I don't know the answer. All I have are examples. Sometimes a guy's gotta face down a challenge. He has to prove his worth. Practicality is meaningless in these situations. It's a modern day showdown at high noon. 

I had to change my tire recently. This isn't very difficult. On this occasion though, it was dark and the lug nuts were rusted on tight. After a good half-hour and finally getting on the spare, I went upstairs victorious. My hands were dirty. Dirty hands are great. I love when my hands are dirty. It usually means I was doing some type of challenging work. 

It is October of 2011. A century ago, it took a lot of hard work and physical labor to maintain a home and look out for a family. Centuries before that it took even more work. Centuries before that, and so on. Today, the labor factor is greatly lifted due to technology, but the need to conquer a task is still there.  Maybe that's why the Tough Mudder is so appealing, because it gives us a chance to conquer something. 

So far, I've sort of been able to persuade Wife to let me go to the Tough Mudder (like I need her permission!). As long as I bring someone with me. I think her exact words were, "Someone who can keep you in control and make sure you don't do anything stupid." That sounds about right. 

Takers? Anyone? Teammates? 

Practice

We parked on the 5th floor of a 9 floor parking garage. This was only one of many parking garages in the area. There are numerous buildings, courtyards, and streets running through. We scaled stairs, elevators, corridors, and crossed roads. No, we weren't navigating our way through the city. Wife and I were just trying to find our way through the hospital at which the Kicker would be delivered. This hospital can be easily confused with a large metropolis. They are similar in size, population, and zip codes. But we were here for a reason - "The Prenatal Hospital Tour."


The Prenatal Hospital Tour offers soon-to-be parents an opportunity to get familiar with what to expect on Labor Day. It's a chance to get a feel for what it will be like for go-time. A sort of "practice" if you will. I'm thinking, I'm sitting here as a franchise dad and we talkin' about practice. Not the birth, not the birth, not the birth...practice. How am I supposed to make the birth better by practice? I know it's important, I honestly do. But we're talkin' about practice. 

Together we walked down a hallway and were quickly ushered into the room where we would all meet. I expected there to be about 5 other couples coming out to this thing on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Turns out half of Cleveland and it's surrounding communities are all having babies at this hospital in the next three months. 


The room reminded me of college. It had a big screen in front, projector, a podium, and stadium seating with those little half-desks that swing up from the side of the seat. But we did get a chance to have some food and water before we sat down - college never had that in class. I finished eating my plate of food before Wife did. This is nothing new. Then I got thirsty and reached for her water bottle. 


Wife: Hey! What are you doing, go up and get your own water bottle.
Me: I'm only going to have a couple sips; and you know you NEVER finish anything. So there will be plenty to spare.
(silence)
Wife: Fine. Just leave enough for me.


This particular water bottle was one with a nozzle on top. It reminded me of the ones we used in High School during sports. So I drank out of it.............like I was in High School playing sports. I held the water bottle about 6 inches away and squirted it. Kind of like you see football players do on the sidelines. This did not sit well with Wife.......


Wife: What are you DOING?
Me: Taking a few sips. Relax.
Wife: Can't you just drink like a normal human being?


Still waiting for the presentation to start.


Me: I need a pen to take notes.
Wife: Let me see if I have one. 
(shuffles though purse)
Wife: Sorry, I don't have a pen.
Me: Your purse can hold 8 NBA size basketballs. You could pack for a world tour in there and you don't have a pen?


This is how we set the tone for the afternoon.


My mind always wanders in settings like this. I saw a very aged man in the hallway walking past this room full of pregnant ladies and their partners. He slowed down almost as if he was going to join in on the class. I was thinking Pleeeeease be on your way into our room! How cool would it be if that fella and his wife were pregnant? Unfortunately, he carried on his merry way. Too bad, I had a name picked out for him and everything.......Abraham. 


I also recall the nurse that was making the presentation. She had the biggest hands I've ever seen. Like something out of a Tim Burton movie. I spent about 9 minutes trying to figure out how it would feel to be punched in the face by her. This is my world. 


My imagination was quickly jolted out of auto-pilot by a statement that caught my attention. Big fist lady said "Newborns will need to be changed about 10-12 times a day for a while." Funny. I had to check if she was lying.


Me: Is that true? 10-12 times?
Wife: Yeah, you have to keep on top of that.
Me: That's like...once every 2 hours. 
Wife: Great math.
Me: Can we start potty training now?


Big Fists also began to talk about the time right after birth when Kangaroo Care begins. That's when the baby is placed on the mother's belly and there's some kind of Kangaroo connection that forms. I don't know, I only caught parts of it. But for the first hour after birth, the lady said this is when the baby will be most alert and receptive to the new world. It's the perfect opportunity to give the Kicker his first glove and ball. 


The lecture carried on. Just as I began to nod off, Big Fists exclaimed, "Ok everybody, at this time we're going to take a guided tour of all the areas in the hospital you will be on delivery day." 


She showed us how to check in. Wheelchairs. The delivery floor. LDR (labor delivery recovery) rooms. The nursery. Other rooms. Policies. Peoples. It was a very beneficial tour. Now it was time to leave. 


On our way back to the car, Wife said, "The next time we're here, we'll be having a baby!" Immediate loss of blood in my head ensued. I began to breathe deep and slow while acting cool. Then a flood of thoughts poured in my head: Where were we supposed to park? Can I get her a wheelchair? Which elevator was it that took us up to delivery? Where was delivery? What do we pack? 


Practice. This is why practice is important. How we perform in the big game, under pressure, when every decision is important is contingent on how well we practice. Especially when Labor Day is two months away. 

Some Explaining To Do

(click to enlarge)

The above picture was taken only days ago. It is of an envelope taped to our apartment door. On the envelope is written You have some explaining to do! That statement was written by Wife - made out to me. Ever get that feeling where all the blood rushes out of your head and is replaced by dread? That's what I felt upon reading this. This saga doesn't begin here though; it began a while back..........

A few weeks ago, Wife needed some money. Due to my lack of availability and the way we format our finances, I needed to take out $280 cash for a particular purchase she was making (no, not drugs...at least not while she's pregnant). I took out the cash and put it in an envelope until she needed it. A few days went by and turns out Wife didn't need it. I could now go back and deposit the money into my account. Since I'm under the impression that money sitting in an envelope ages like whiskey in an oak barrel, the money sat in that envelope - on our kitchen counter - for weeks - and weeks - and more weeks. 

Apparently 280 bucks doesn't age well in an envelope; and after over a month it was still just $280. During that time, Wife had to constantly prompt me to take the money back to the bank. Constantly. She got fed up of having the money sit around. We decided to make the deposit while we ran errands. Guess what? Bank's not open on Columbus Day (or Thanksgiving if you're from Canada). We accidentally left the money in her car that day, and she drove to work with the envelope full of money in it. Wife called and told me, "I don't feel comfortable having the money in my car, can you PLEASE deposit it tomorrow??"

No problem. 

Jump forward 2 days. As always, my thoughts in italics.

Wife: Did you get that cash deposited?

Me: No, you never gave me the envelope. 

Wife: I didn't? I'm pretty sure I left it right by your work bag for you to remember.

Me: Don't think so. I would've remembered taking it.

At this point, we head out to the library. Upon returning home we re-searched the car for the missing envelope of cash. No sign of it anywhere. We go upstairs and search our shelves, counters, bags, closets, pockets, everywhere. No sign of this evasive envelope full of money. We conclude that we must have accidentally thrown it out when we emptied the trash just a day before. 

Now it's on. Wife get's very uncomfortable with stuff like this. She worries, and over-thinks everything. She can't move on with her day until she has successfully closed all the doors of previous tasks. On the opposite side,  I under-react. I'm very passive and easygoing - to a fault - with matters like this. Almost as if $280 is some amount of cash I can expect to find in the pocket of an old jacket at any time. I'll be the first to admit it's not a good approach. 

I decide now would be the perfect time to apply some Rain-X to the windshields of our cars. Wife makes one last venture down to the car just to double check.......no luck. She went back upstairs. 

Cleaning cars is therapeutic. The result is a tangible accomplishment that may offset some type of stressor, such as losing money. It took a good 25 minutes to get those windshields perfect, and they repel rain quite well now. Back upstairs I go.

Proud as ever, I turned to walk in to our apartment only to find the door locked. And that's when I read the envelope hanging on the door from the beginning. 

(Remember this one from the beginning?)

My first thoughts are, "Hey! We found it! Yes!" Then I read the handwritten words: You have some explaining to do! Blood = gone from head and face.

Oh man! I thought. What kind of explaining will I have to do? She found it, she should be happy!

I turned the doorknob and found the door to be dead bolted shut. Unusual. She should know I was coming up here. After I unlocked that, I found that she had locked me out with the chain too! 

What's going on here?! 

Me: (with my lips and nose sticking through the 3-inch wide crack in the door way) Hey! What's the big idea?!

Wife: YOU tell me!

Me: How about you tell me! I'm the one locked out for no reason!

Wife: GUESS where I found the envelope of cash?

Me: How am I supposed to know, I'm in the parking lot cleaning the cars!

Wife unchains the door and lets me in. 

Me: Hey, we should be glad we got the money. What's wrong? 

Wife then enlightens me with one of the single greatest monologues in the history of our relationship..........

Wife: I FOUND IT IN YOUR BAG! You TOOK the envelope and put it IN. YOUR. BAG! YOU had me con-VINCED that it was MY pregnant brain (reference). It was never me! It's always YOU! And it feels good! I'm keeping the money with me, I'll go with you to the bank. I don't know how you do it EV-REE-TIME.

I'm floored. Here's the weird part: she wasn't angry. The best way to describe it is to compare the way she was talking to me the same way Dr. Leo Marvin spoke to Bob in "What About Bob" when he went crazy at the end. He's so frustrated that it's not anger, it's a helpless plea for someone to see the world from his perspective. That's what Wife sounded like. 

At this point, my body has been frozen for 25 straight seconds. I don't know how to begin to digest the words I just heard. My brain is still hung up on how she found it in my bag. I put it in there? I have absolutely NO recollection of this. Zero. Not even a fuzzy thought. Sometimes when you hear something that you forgot, you may remember it. Not this time. Nothing. I don't even have a feeling of doing this in my past. The problem is, it HAD to be me. I'm the only one who puts stuff in my bag.

Once I get past that, I'm immediately hung up on how relieved she was that it was my stupid mistake. She said "it feels good!" How stupid am I that she actually feels good that it wasn't her? Then she practically decides that she needs to hold my hand while we walk to the bank to make the deposit. And I don't even blame her.

No words back. She has made her statement. I have no rebuttal. Still can't move at this point. For some reason, my brain can process none of what was just said. 

Unbelievably enough, she goes on.........

Wife: This whole situation even made me have a contraction! Know what I did AFTER I had my stress contraction?? I took out the tub of Cool-Whip and spooned it! 

(she proceeds to take out a tub of Cool-Whip from the freezer and show me that a good 3/4 of that baby was gone. Like a werewolf just up and scooped the white fluffy goodness out with its claws and went to town. She then finishes...) THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO ME!!

There is some explaining to do. It's 5 days after the money disappearance and I haven't the foggiest idea of how that envelope got into my bag. 

Let's Zoo This Thing

What secret do all citizens of Cuyahoga County know? Where is the one place you can find Cuyahoga Co. residents of each race, religion, and income bracket during the first day of the week? Everyone knows that the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo is FREE to Cuy Co. residents every Monday!


Wife has been begging me to make our annual trip to the zoo all summer. Being the intelligent man I am, I obviously chose against going in the summer. Three reasons: 1.Too many summer camp kids (they come in bus loads and travel in amoeba-like groups of neon green t-shirts that swallow people up as they walk along).  2.Too many moms taking their kids who are out of school (they smudge their peanut butter and jelly finger prints on every glass surface the zoo owns, effectively inhibiting my view of the wildlife).  And 3.Parking is impossible (You have to park at the Rainforest...literally. Not the Cleveland one that's there at the zoo, the one that's being chopped down in the Amazon. That's the reason they're chopping the rainforests down, to make room for parking in Cleveland).


Those three were the big reasons why we chose to go to free Monday at the zoo in the fall. Besides, the weather was mid-70's and spot on today. This zoo trip was different though. This is the first zoo time we've had where Wife was pregnant. We knew that we would have to walk at a slower pace and take more frequent breaks. That's fine. She was excited to go, and I was happy to be able to spend our off day together.


After driving to the wrong entrance of the park, parking 3/4 mile away, and waiting in an unnecessary ticket line, we got to the zoo. We brought our camera to take some pics of us enjoying the day, then I had a great idea: why don't we take pictures of all the animals, then make some sort of photo book on Shutterfly that we could read to the Kicker when he's born? This was on of my best yet. We wouldn't show him some book company's pictures, we could show him our own! And Shutterfly has this cool service where you can design a book online of your own pictures and words, and they send you a hardbound copy of it in the mail. I can see us reading it to Kicker, showing him lions, and tigers, and monkeys and stuff - all pictures we took.


We got to work snapping some real lively shots. Without going into much detail, here are some of the pics...

Take a good look. If we decide to use these pictures for a "baby's first book of animals" type deal, our poor kid is gonna be at a major disadvantage come kindergarten. He'll be the only 6yr old in the class who thinks wildlife is either always sleeping, or always looking the opposite direction. He will be able to recognize animals by their butts though. Not many kids can do that. 


These are the chances we take when going to the zoo. I was praying that the polar bear would just do just one cannonball into the frigid waters of his exhibit. Or that the cheetahs would want to spend one quick minute sprinting around their cage. This was not the case. The Kicker will have to be content with some pretty lame photos of some pretty bored animals. (seriously though, love the CleMetZoo)


As we were leaving, we both realized something: the next time we visit the zoo, we're going to be pushing a stroller. What a weird thought. We're probably going to want to put him in a neon green shirt to keep track of him better; and since it's easy to pack, he's going to have a PB&J for lunch when we bring him too. 

Species: Tyrannosaurs Wifeus

Location: Seemingly Everywhere

This photo was taken of a pregnant human female at a zoo. Here, she has visited a local watering hole while deciding to take a break after much travel on her feet. In her hands is the currency humans use to trade for food and drink. Before approaching the watering hole, the pregnant female successfully negotiated the currency away from the alpha male husband. The alpha male husband has the last laugh though, as he posts this picture up on his electronic internet story center known as a blog. 

All Because of the Crib

Turns out ordering the crib and having it delivered was a good idea. If I recall the discussions correctly, Wife advised we get all our baby room furniture to match. She was right. My plan - no joke - was to go to the lumberyard and construct my own baby crib out of raw materials. Looking back now, that was a stupid plan. 

We spent about an hour putting the crib up last week. I did all the labor, and Wife provided the encouragement while seated in the rocking chair. It wasn't too difficult though. Wife and I did get into a small dispute about where in the room to put the crib. 

Wife: Ok, now move the crib over by the wall in front of the door.

Me: No, I'm putting it by the window.

Wife: Why would you put it by the window?

Me: So he can absorb the sunlight needed to grow up strong.

Wife: Why do you say dumb things?

Me: It's not dumb, it's true. He'll be able to get his energy from the sun like his ol' dad.

Wife: Or, we can put it in front of the door so when we walk by the room we can just peek in and see him to make sure he's ok.

Me: What about the sun?

Wife: We'll put the rocking chair there. You can hold him in the sun all you want. 

Me: I like that. Good idea. 

Walking by the baby room, the crib sits in plain view. I pass the room often. I picture the Kicker sleeping in there. With the crib being put together, the baby room looks more like a baby room and less like a spare bedroom. The whole construction of the crib seemed to tie things together and bring the baby idea to life. All because of the crib.

Not long after the crib construction, me and the Kicker started a new thing. Anytime I put my hand on Wife's belly, Kicker responds. No lie. I usually say something like, "Hey, you better not be keeping your mom up at night." Or, "Make sure you're getting all your vitamins." And, "I know it's cramped, but try some plyometrics or push ups if you have the available space." Kicker quickly responds with - what I believe to be - a fist bump. Or possibly a swift kick of acknowledgement. Either way, we are communicating quite effectively. 

He's starting to become a person. The baby has a bed now. And the three of us are loosely hanging out together. As of late, I've been wondering what it would be like to hold the Kicker when he's born. He'll be visible and touchable. I won't have to picture him in his crib, or imagine what his reactions are to my comments. Since I had all this on my mind, I told Wife about it. 

Me: I can't wait to hold the baby when he's born. I keep thinking about it.

Wife: Can you believe it's so close?

Me: Will the doctor give me a blanket to hold him?

Wife: Actually, the mother is usually the first to hold the baby.

Me: You'll be passed out won't you? When will I get him?

Wife: After me. But he'll be covered in blood and fluid and all red and nasty anyways. 

Me: Nevermind. 

It's been a wild week. Call it a "waterfall moment" or something (waterfall moment explained). The baby seems to be more real, more tangible. Everything was fine up until a week ago. I guess it's all because of the crib.  

Harmonica

I stood outside of Guitar Center and stared at the sign. Looks like it's been a while since they washed the outside of this building, I thought. I have never been into a Guitar Center store before. It's one of those mysterious places that I think cool people hang out at. The feeling of walking into this store was the same feeling I had walking into Trader Joe's for the first time. In the Trader Joe's experience, my entrance was a little bit timid. I was unsure about where everything was and what to even do. Everyone in the store seems to know what they're doing, but I wouldn't know where to even begin. It feels like everyone is looking at you wondering why you have trespassed onto their cool-people only territory.

This time would be different. I will confidently walk into Guitar Center and blend right in with the musically talented crowd. With one hand in my pocket, I walked in and was immediately greeted by the store DJ who said, "Hey, hows it goin' man!" Still in fake-cool mode I respond with a slick, "Wassup." That may have been the lamest response ever. Here's Mr. DJ man trying to make me feel welcome, and I can only muster a word that consists of two conjoined fragments made popular by 7up. Already I'm losing.

This place is incredible. There are guitars hanging off the walls, stand up cut outs of rock stars, the DJ is playing classic rock songs, some guy in the back is shredding a guitar as he tests it out. Not looking where you walk is dangerous. I'm nearly running into displays and shoppers as I search for my corner of the store.

Hold up, I never made clear what I was looking for at Guitar Center. I'm looking for a harmonica. It's that silver instrument that is played in a lot of blues bands. I compared brands, prices, recommendations, and so on. Of course, my frugality trumped everything and I got the cheapest one. I left with my new purchase. When I got to the car, I did what any normal six-year-old would do. I ripped open the packaging and checked it out! It was beautiful.

The last week has been a blast. During commercials, I mute the TV and practice playing "When the Saints go Marching In." It's the only song I know. Wife thought it was pretty good. By the 37th commercial though,  she was slightly annoyed. I don't blame her, but I have to keep practicing so I can become a blues legend someday.

There are probably so many questions by everyone. I know what you're thinking, "Matt, why would you - with all your potential of playing Major League Baseball right now - put aside your intense training schedule to pick up playing a harmonica?" Actually, some of that may have not been what you're thinking. Maybe just the part about, "Why would you pick up playing a harmonica?" Either way, let the elaboration begin.......

Everybody goes through phases as a kid. Right? Maybe you remember going to the airport to drop someone off when you were little and became enamored with airplanes after that. Or after a visit to the history museum, you can't stop talking and learning about dinosaurs. Small events trigger in us a wild passion.

The examples used are from those of children, but I think it would be lying to say that we don't get excited about doing something new as adults. Don't you ever get psyched about something and then take off with it? Some people will do a 5K for charity fun run for the first time. Before you know it, that person has every issue of Runners World and a collection of race t-shirts. Or how 'bout this, I've seen this one first hand: It takes a few episodes of Gordon Ramsay in Hell's Kitchen and boom, the viewer-turned-chef and you got a new meal being cooked every night with entrees no one can pronounce.

Here's the point: find something that forces your feet to move and do it. It keeps life interesting and fresh. Run. Swim. Train. Cook. Explore. Hike. Play. Read. Write. Watch. Find. Travel. Design. Build. It doesn't matter. Just do it.



Along with my harmonica, I'm presently pursuing another passion. I've wanted a kayak for years. We live minutes from Lake Erie. Every time I'm up there for a run or swim, I wish I had a kayak to explore with. It would be the best thing ever. Unfortunately, home space limitations have kept that idea a dream. It wont be long though. I'll be out on the water in my kayak jammin' out to When the Saints Go Marching In on my harmonica.