Ego

Despite varying opinions of the appropriate time to begin Christmas decorating, much of the population agrees that the end of Thanksgiving is a social green light to begin. The day after Thanksgiving has been our day to decorate for as long as me and Wife have celebrated together. This year was no different. 


While most people store their Christmas boxes in an attic or above the garage, our special living situation has allowed for special Christmas storage as well. Our Christmas boxes are stored one floor below us in a dark and mysterious walk-in closet. It's about the size of a typical walk-in closet in a home, but ours is separated into sections and we share it with 15 other apartment dwellers. 


It's become normal to us, but fetching stored items is anything but typical. Wife and I have to use a key to get in. Once in, we have to turn the light on with a special timed dial. It starts to tick like a time-bomb as soon as it's set as it counts down the seconds. We turn the dial to the estimated minutes of required light then navigate to our locker. Our storage locker is secured with a combination lock which I can never remember the combination to. It's even harder to conjure up numbers with the tick,tick,tick,tick of the light-timer in the background. The small task of opening up a combination lock turns into a McGyver-like bomb diffusing situation. I begin sweating and breathing rapidly - just trying to retrieve decorations.


Once in, I sit patiently as pregnant Wife decides which boxes stay and which go. When the waiting and ticking get to be too much, I get caught up in the situation and yell a quick, "If you don't decide soon, this place is gonna blow!" She says no words, but uses her crafty eyes to tell me to calm down or she will calm me down.


With the boxes all selected, it's time to leave this mind trap and go back up to our suite. That's when... 


Wife: Hmmm. You can't carry all those boxes; you're not tall enough to see over the top. Let's make two trips.
Me: What?
Wife: Take half up now, then we'll come back down and get the rest.
Me: Are you doubting me? 
Wife: I'm being sensible, and smart too. You think you can get all that?
Me: Think? Just grab the door and watch out.


It wasn't the weight that made carrying everything so difficult. It was the fact that I couldn't see anything at all. From a distance, I looked like a 6 foot box with legs. It didn't help that the Christmas bells in the box kept jingling every stride. 


It would have been smarter to make two trips. Why not make two trips? Here are a few other direct quotes from Wife:

"You can't carry that dresser into the bedroom, you'll hurt yourself."

"You can't carry that to the car, let's take the cart."


"You can't carry all those groceries in, we'll come back down and get the rest."


"Don't stare at all the scenery while driving, you're gonna get in an accident."


"Don't walk across the frozen river, you're gonna fall through."

And so on.


In response to those suggestions:  the dresser was carried, so were the groceries, the scenery was admired, and the frozen river was traversed. 

Concerning as those comments may sound, they're phrased like that for a reason. What Wife is really trying to say is, "I don't want you to carry the dresser, because I'm afraid you'll get hurt." She's just looking out. Trying to make sure her man doesn't do irreversible damage to himself as a provider for the family. She's kept me out of trouble more times than I can count. 


The concern is much appreciated, but there is something about a man and a challenge. Maybe it's an ego thing. Accepting and conquering challenges makes a guy feel like a guy. Maybe it's so that I can hear my son someday say:


"Wow, my dad walked across that frozen river."
"Cool, dad just carried that whole dresser in there by himself."
"Dad didn't even need a cart to carry that out of the store."
"Did you see how many grocery bags dad had?! There were like seven on each wrist! Why are his hands turning purple?"


As I write this, a friend (http://cneading.wordpress.com/)  just tweeted about grilling in the snow. Smart? No. Sensible? No. Fun? You bet. Challenge accepted. Game on. 

Start Him Early

Today may not count as his first official Ohio State v. Michigan game, but he still knows how to show who he's pulling for....

Not sure whether it's right or wrong to impress favorite teams on an unborn child, but what's done is done. Go Buckeyes!!

Thanksgiving Dilemma

I had to piece together my Turkey Bowl football attire for our Thanksgiving day game. I had my jersey and hat picked out, but I needed some warm pants and a layer to wear underneath. Wife brought up the laundry at just the right time. Here's what I found...

I'm not sure a little football on my butt will go over well with the guys. But it does look warm enough. 

Closer And Closer

We are 5 weeks from the ETA. That would put us right in the middle of December. There's been a lot going on recently that indicates we are close to delivery...


Lack of mobility
I remember playing basketball back in high school. Our team got along really well. We were always looking out for each other. One of the bigger points our coach made was creating a turnover on defense by taking a charge. When one of our guys would get laid out on his back, and the ref made the move with his left hand behind his head and his right fist thrust forward, we were proud. First thing we did was extend our hand down to the teammate, he'd grab it, and we'd pull him up. You'll see that hand-clasped-pull-up teammate assist not just in basketball, but in all sports. It's a gesture that offers help, and displays cohesion of the teammates. 


Being on the cusp of delivery, Wife has some problems moving around sometimes. Her increased size has made it harder for her to do simple things. For example, when she needs to be helped out of her favorite spot on the couch, this move comes in handy. The second I see her struggle to get some upward momentum, her teammate - me - comes over with the ol' hand-clasped-pull-up teammate assist. It works perfect. We leave out the chest bump and butt slap at the end though. 


Baby room finished/things built
As it stands, we've got just about everything in place for the baby room. There's a crib, a glider (the new school way to say "rocking chair"), a dresser, clothes, books, a lamp, hamper, and so on. We even have one of those small wooden figurines of two parents holding a baby. 


Getting the baby room to that point was the hard part. Nothing comes fully assembled. Every time there was something to put together, I got my tools out. Not just some of my tools, all of my tools. Screwdrivers, socket sets, hammer, level, WD40, drill, blowtorch, circular saw, and jackhammer. Since we live in an apartment, I don't get to do much of my own home maintenance. Assembling baby junk is my equivalent of building a deck. 


Unfortunately, the only tools I needed were a Philips screwdriver, hammer, or Allen key. But you better believe that when something needed assembled, my whole tool collection came marching out. I've spent the last two weeks reading nothing but directions. Crib directions, dresser directions, swing directions, stroller directions... And now I can say I'm also fluent in both Spanish and French as well. 

Halfway through assembly and forgetting a few washers and bolts in the bottom of the box. 

Gypsy Couple
We were leaving the mall. Engaged in our own conversation, we didn't see an older couple passing by us. From nowhere, the kind lady asked us what we were having. "A boy," we replied. "Ahhhh a boy!" she exclaimed with her heavy Russian accent. She stared at us for a second then said, "And you're due next month. On the 22nd." Wife didn't respond because she couldn't understand this lady's dialect. I heard her perfectly clear but couldn't respond because I was shocked at how accurate she was. She didn't ask if it was the 22nd, it was almost as if she told us. I was able to manage a spattered, "Actually, it's the 18th." Then she said, "Yes, I can easily tell just by looking at you." 


The lady and her husband walked off as promptly as they came. I was floored. How could she be only 4 days off? 4 Days off is shocking considering we've heard guesses recently that have pegged Wife at only four months along. Four months? Really? I decided that this Russian couple must have some type of gypsy powers. I told Wife that if she delivers the Kicker on the 22nd, I will find that couple again and adopt them as honorary Godparents. And ask them if they foresee a Cleveland Championship anytime soon. 




While the above are signs that delivery day is close, there is still much to get done. 


What's most striking about the ETA is the first third of the acronym. The "E" part. E=estimated. Estimated to many guys simply means, "not now." And since the only issues I'm capable of dealing with are the ones happening in front of my face, planning for the actual Time of Arrival has been difficult. 


Of course, it's not unusual for a baby to be delivered early. While I cognitively understand that, I am physically having trouble of preparing for it. It's like being in college again: most people typically do all their studying and preparing the night before finals. But I can't afford to do all the preparation one night before the expected date. That would be nonsense.


Thankfully, Wife has been helping me be more proactive in preparing for the ETA. Here's how she's been helping me prepare...


The Route
Needing to take care of an appointment at the hospital, we thought it would be a good time for me to be familiar with the route to the hospital. The route really isn't that difficult. The hard part will be the time of year. Expecting in December and delivering on the east side of a city made famous for lake effect snow creates concern. Last winter, a white-out snowstorm created a parking lot of cars on the very route we need to take to the hospital. Workers leaving their jobs at 5 that evening didn't get home until 11. We must be ready for this. Now.....does anybody own a helicopter?


The most difficult about getting to the hospital will be figuring out parking. Wife showed me where to go, which entrance, and so on. Unfortunately, I had a hard time paying attention. Here's kind of how it went (my thoughts in italics):
Wife: Make sure you pass up this garage and keep following the road behind it.
Me: Ok
Wife: When you stop here, keep going past the intersection. Don't turn left.
Me: Yes
Wife: You keep going around the back of the hospital along this road until it dead ends into.........


Oh look, a train. It's goin' fast too........I bet I could jump off that bridge onto the top of it while it's moving. Then hop from one car to the other. Just like cowboys did back in the Old West. I'd get a six-shooter and stop the bad guy who was hijacking the train. We could get into a gun fight and when I injure him, I'd walk up to him and pull out my favorite Dirty Harry line, "I know what you're thinking. 'Did he shoot six shots or only five?'". Then I would arrest him. 


Wife: .......So can you make sure you remember all that? Because you're going to drop me off and have to park the car by yourself.
Me: No prob
We're screwed.


Who do you call?
When it's 'go' time, I guess you have to call the doctor. You say something like, "Hey, there's water everywhere and she's in pain." Then the doctor is supposed to meet you at the hospital I think. Anyway, the doctor has a number. And that number was put on a card and given to me by my responsible wife. I unfortunately have no idea where I put that card. Do you think 9-1-1 will eventually patch us over to the right person?


Pack a bag
The delivery usually requires a couple day stay at the hospital. This means we need to have a bag of clothes, belongings, toiletries, etc. ready to pick up and go. Wife dropped various hints that it would be a good thing to get this bag packed now. So I got right on it.....starting with the perfect iPod playlist for delivery day. And that's as far as I've gotten.


Now what?
The baby room is set, Wife is showing, people are predicting, and we need to be ready to go at a moments notice. But my plan of preparing on the 14th - the night before the due date - isn't the smartest idea. At some point Irresponsible Me has to become Responsible Me. The time to prepare, plan, and - most importantly - DO is now. So I'm going to get right on that........tomorrow sounds like the perfect time. 

To Quote Her...

It's not fair. I have the privilege of hearing the most absurd and off the wall comments come out of my pregnant wife's wacky mouth; but no one else gets to hear them. It's like being at a stand up comedy show by yourself - there is no one to laugh with or turn to and say, "That's so true right!" Just not as much fun. So when Wife comes up with a legendary pregnant-headed line or action, I have no one to enjoy the show with. 


I try to remember some of my favorite lines. 


The following quotes/conversations don't particularly have a place in any recent story. They just happened, and I thought it would be share-worthy. Wife says so many head-scratching things while she's pregnant....
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I Just Wanna Eat


It was around 3pm. We were cleaning up the kitchen after cooking a huge meal - odd time for a big meal. I was feeling good. I was so perfectly full that I forgot that there was a lot to complain about from the Browns game the day before. If I can forget that, I'm feeling good. My euphoria was abruptly distracted by this comment..........


Wife: (with flair and vigor) That was good!


          I don't care what time it is, I just be eatin'! 
          
          Was that dinner? 


          What was that?
          
          I just wanna eat, that's all I know!


What just happened? If I'm assessing this right, she just carried on a full conversation about her appetite, with herself. And it was full of punctuation and emotion. I thought I just cooked her an awesome meal? She's already talking about food again? There were many things I wanted to say, but I could only stand motionless and stare at the floor as if I was counting the tiles in my head. It's like daydreaming during math class, but then the teacher calls you up to the front to solve a problem on the board. You can only stare and hope for divine intervention. 


Editors Note: Just to be clear, Wife has been, and continues to maintain a beautiful figure during this pregnancy. 


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Spaghetti Sauce Dreams


I manage to do a decent job at regularly stressing Wife out. There are numerous dates I've missed, appointments I've forgotten, clothes I've left out, and Wii's I've broken while trying to fix them that she get's a good dose of stress. I remember a few weeks ago though; she was on a hot streak of consecutive days without much husband-induced-stress. Unfortunately, she decided to take matters into her own hands.....


Me: Hi Honey! I'm home form work on this beautiful afternoon. Let's go for a walk together because it's splendid outside - splendid just like you make me feel!
Wife: Do you wanna hear this dream I had during my nap this afternoon?
Me: C'mon, you know my favorite thing to do is listen to what's on your mind. I love hearing what you have to say. Want some chocolate while we talk? 
Wife: Well.....in my dream I came walking down the hallway and saw some spaghetti sauce on the couch. When I went to go look closer, I realized there was spaghetti sauce ALL over the couch....AND the chair.....and ALL over the carpet and walls, and completely covering over half the living room. I was SOOOO mad because I KNEW that you had spilled this everywhere and refused to clean it up just like you ALWAYS do.  And then I REALLY got mad when I called you to say you had messed up the living room, and you told me you forgot to clean it up!! Then I was stuck cleaning it up while I was all pregnant!!!! I woke up right after that and my heart was beating so hard. I felt so much stress like it had actually happened. Ha Ha! Isn't that funny?!


It's sad really. I finally manage to do things right, and her brain still finds something to blame me for! A mythological something of all things! Her subconscious thought it would be hilarious to make something up, and get her physical-self to be stressed because of me. 


I'm not panicking though. If the Kicker is anything at all like me, she's gonna have another one to put the blame on. And I will enjoy using him as a scapegoat. 


I also may have slightly embellished my lines there in the story. But they were close. 
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She's Got Answers


I'll admit. It can't be easy living with me. I spend more time acting 12 than 25. I joke around about her pregnant-ness, but Wife really keeps it together. She's doing a great job. In one of my more recent 12 year old moments, she blasted me with a witty response which I'll always remember. Thoughts in italics.


Me: (I'm looking down at my arms while flexing my muscles) Do you think I look tough?
Wife: What is that supposed to mean?
Me: Well, if you were walking alone in a dark alley with just me, would you feel safe?
Wife: This is a stupid question.
Me: Ha! You can't escape it. You just don't want to hurt my feelings. You can say I'm a wuss, I won't be offended. I would have been seriously offended.
Wife: It's not a fair question. 
Me: Whatever, I got what you're saying.....
Wife: No. This is like the "Do I look fat?" conversation. There is no good way to answer it. Anything I say will be insufficient for you.


See, she's good. I couldn't think of anything to say in rebuttal. I sat and thought for a while. If you were to reverse our roles with the "Do I look Fat?" question at the beginning, this conversation wouldn't change a word - except the walking down the alley part. Crazy. 




I still want to know if she'd feel safe though. Maybe she just found a creative way to dodge a bullet.