Day 86

With the Holidays winding down, on our walk today my wife and I were reflecting on our first Thanksgiving/Christmas “being with child,” and as well as the prospects for Holidays to come once Peanut is born. And maybe it’s the little bit of family we got to experience during Thanksgiving and again at Christmas, or maybe it’s the fact that since becoming pregnant my wife has had pangs of wanting her family around much more… for whatever reason, we both are ready to move back home. (In this case, home is Portland, because that’s where the majority of our family lives… even though we originally moved down here from Seattle.) Or perhaps it’s that I’ve become disfranchised with this old house: stairwells not big enough for king size beds, leaky bathrooms and mold that we already had to deal with, front doors that won’t open when the weather gets warm, horribly drafty windows, or… mice in the ceiling.

FYI- That’s the latest thing — there’s a mouse in our ceiling now, and I just put in a service call. But for the past few nights I can hear it coming home at 5am like clockwork. Apparently it likes to stay out and party. The other night it must’ve been hauling something large up the wall, because the mouse dropped the object it was carrying, and I heard it fall quite loudly to the ground. Argh. Stupid house.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the dream of moving. Only one problem stands in our way: Money. We are stuck with a rotten mortgage. The mortgage itself isn’t horrible– although it’s interest only, at least it is fixed for 30 years with a balloon payment. (Close eyes and pray that in 30 years the market will have rebounded? Wait. Is rebounded a word, or is rebound the past tense. If rebound is itself a past tense, then what is the present tense form? Rebind? No, that’s not right.)

Anyway… So conservatively speaking, if we sold the house now, we’d probably be out… oh, $75K-$100K. Sucky.

So we’re sort of stuck. We talked about renting out our current place… but it would be hard to manage and service the rental property from 800 miles away. And I personally am not a fan of taking on a second mortgage… that’s sort of like saying, “Sweet crap– this fire is huge. Quick, throw more wood at it!”  Although one silver lining is that the cost of rentals down here is pretty much what we could get a new mortgage for up in Portland. (Out in the boondocks where we have a brother and sister-in-law.)  So in theory the rental cost and the new mortgage we would assume would cancel each other out, so the net difference to us would be negligible. But, that’s quite a tight rope to walk: we’d have to have renters year-round, or else we’d eat a lot of money. And what’s the point of moving to a cheaper home if you still have to pay the same crummy high mortgage costs.

So yeah. We don’t know what to do. Here’s my latest strategy: go on the gameshow, Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader. All I need to do is make it to the $250K level and I’m golden. And that seems pretty easy on that show.

And no. I’m not joking. As I see it, other than robbing a bank… hmm, I actually just considered that for a split second… going on this show is my next best option. Lest you think I’m joking, I just printed out the 7 page application. I’m going to play up the whole, “trying to start a nest egg” business on the application in the hopes that tugs at their heart strings.

Look, I realize it’s stupid. But really– unless I can blow Bill Gates in the alley behind AmPm, I don’t think we’re going to have the ability to get out of our current mortgage. Any and all ideas are welcomed. Especially if you are a reader who happens to work… or know somewho who works… in the mortgage/finance industry. Hint hint hint.

Day 85

For Christmas, we went down to my wife’s sister’s family’s house’s place’s place. Next Christmas will be Peanut’s first Christmas. So this was really Peanut’s 0th (zero-th?) Christmas.

I like the Holidays… but I’m not a gonzo nut about the Holidays. Like, I know people who go crazy on their decorations, and I’ve worked with people who define themselves by the Christmas season. That’s not me. We’ve got some light decorations up (thanks to my wife), but other than that, we didn’t do Christmas cards this year, and we didn’t exchange gifts, nor did we put up a tree this year. (We do in fact own a fake tree which we normally put up… but we both were too lazy; my wife because she was pregnant, and me because I’m just lazy.)

So next year for Peanut’s first Christmas, I’m thinking, “Why even bother celebrating?” Peanut won’t know it’s Christmas. Heck, I could probably slide by until age 2 or 3 until I really have to even bother with the whole, “Oh my goodness, WHO ate the cookies and drank the milk? <burp> Must be Santa!” OR, will I somehow be magically transformed like Ebenezer Scrooge after his visit with the Ghost of Christmas Future, and will I insist on celebrating as my heart will be transformed by the birth of my child? Mmmm. Not likely.

I’m just Scroogey enough to not even care about buying presents for Peanut’s first Christmas. (That’s what Grandparents are for, right?) Or first birthday, for that matter. As I see it, any time the person who is being celebrated has no idea they are being celebrated, then you can probably skip it. This holds true for babies, and the elderly.

Is that wrong of me? Selfish as a (soon-to-be) parent? Miserly? Bah-humbugish? Or just plain practical? Oh, I’ll probably take a photo or two to satisfy people who want to see photos… but I really don’t think any of MY friends would care that much, in the way I’m sure my parents would probably care about seeing photos of Peanut’s first [fill in the blank] (Christmas, Birthday, Halloween, Posting of Bail, etc.].

In fact, quite the opposite — my subversive sense of humor has me wanting to lean the other way and take offensive photos with my baby on these Holidays. (Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol, next to a bong, etc.) But, luckily for my future baby, that’s what my wife is here for — to stop me from doing stuff like that. She’s the judicial branch to my legislative branch… or whichever branch the judiciary has checks and balances over. I hate it when my pseudo-intelligent analogies go awry.)

Anyway, I see the parents on our block who go hog wild on a child’s birthday — with jumpee inflatable things, and pony rides and all that crap. And I’m definitely against crazy big birthdays. (A rare one every now and then is cool, and can be a great surprise — but not every year.)  Similarly at Christmas — when I grew up, I could count the number of presents we would get on one hand. But I’ve seen kids who get showered with mountains of gifts and they tear through them on Christmas morning like a hot knife through butter. And that can’t be healthy.

Not that I’m going to dress my kid in shoes made of rope and burlap, nor in barrels with suspenders, but I’m just of the opinion that less is more when it comes to Christmas, Birthdays, and holidays. Poor, Peanut.

Day 80

It has now been 80 days since I found out my wife was pregnant. And apart from falling in love with the movie Juno (thank you Cinemax), I gotta admit that things don’t really seem that different. I assumed back at Day 0 that each day would bring some new baby quandry or hijinx. Yet, I’m sad to report that for the most part, I haven’t found myself in zany mishaps or adventures yet. WHY ISN’T LIFE MORE LIKE A SITCOM?!

Oh well. I suppose there will be a day in the not-too-distant future where I will long for this period of tranquility. The calm before the storm, if you will. Apart from a couple of OB appointments, and about 5 pounds on my part (thanks to the influx of naughty food in our house), this pregnancy hasn’t affected me incredibly yet. They say a woman becomes a mother when she gets pregnant. A man becomes a father when he sees his baby. So, hopefully this disconneciton I have to the pregnancy won’t be lasting.

Here’s the latest news: We want to get a king bed. But our stupid old house doesn’t have a stairwell big enough to get up which to fit a king bed. Stupid old house. And there’s no window large enough to haul it in. I think we’ll have to get a contractor to come out and evaluate if we can make the stairwell more open (I fear it’s a load-bearing cross-beam and thus we won’t be able to cut a hole above the stairweel)… or do we knock out a wall and pulley up the king bed, and then re-build the wall. Either way, it seems like a lot of money ($5K?) just to get a bed into a house we likely won’t keep.

Oh. Time to board my flight. I’ll have to finish these thoughts on another post.

Day 67: The Fam

Over thanksgiving we told my wife’s family. Actually, here’s how we did it (I credit my wife for this clever idea)… We put the latest photo of Peanut up on the refrigerator. And every now and then, people would mosey by and read it. My sister-in-law (whose house we were at) is also pregnant, so many people passed by without caring too much. (After all, it’s her second pregnancy… yawn. Nobody cares.)

My wife’s name was in the upper corner in very tiny print on the ultrasound. Eventually one or two people saw it, and then others slowly came over to see what all the hubbub was about. It was kind of fun to let them figure it out, and see the genuine look of (first) confusion, then b. excitement.

So the cat’s out of the bag. (The fetus is out of the womb? Hmm…)  The only group of people I haven’t shared the news with is my friends. I have a few close friends who I have been waiting to tell in person. But my work keeps pulling me to different cities, and not the cities where my friends are. (Seattle.) So I’m debating if I will just spread the news via email or not. They’re a bunch of guys, so really, they probably won’t give a shit. But I’m the first one of our particular circle to make a baby… well, to make a baby intentionally and own up to the fact it is mine. So I’m excited to tell them, but I just keep waiting for the perfect moment… which seems to never arrive. At what point do you say, “Hey, guess what… I’m having a baby tomorrow?” Yeah, it’ll probably be sometime before my wife’s water breaks.

Oh, that reminds me… new joke of the month: Some people have asked me, “Do you hope it’s a boy or girl?” My stock response now: “I just hope it’s white!” (I’m particularly proud of that one.)

After we told the fam, we were asked about preferred baby names. We gave a few out, and then promptly decided we are not telling anybody any of our choices. There is nothing worse than telling someone this name that you’ve wrestled with over and over… only to see them kind of look past your shoulder and go, “Hmm. Interesting.”  FUCK YOU. Or else they sneer like someone just farted in their soup, and they wince, “Reeeeally?”  Yes, really. FUCK YOU.

So that’s it. Sharing names is out. We’re keeping it to ourselves. And if you don’t like the names we pick out… then don’t tell us. Keep it to your stupid name judging self.

By the way. Spam has 96g of fat in one can. Wow.

Day 66: The most recent test

Last Thursday my wife had her follow-up OB with our chosen OB. The good news is that he says all of the blood work and tests so far have come back with a clean bill of health. (Like there was any doubt. My seed is good.)

They didn’t give my wife a photo — and to be honest, I can’t remember if an ultrasound exam was performed. I’m a notoriously horrible listener. So she probably told me, but I forget. I think she said they did not perform one, but she also mentioned that the doctor revised her delivery date to June 7th. (Which would point to the fact that he would have done an ultrasound in order to re-estimate the delivery date.)  Ehh, who knows. Long story short: Healthy baby. June 7th.

I’m thinking I will start an office pool with my customers to see who can come closest to the delivery date and time. In the interest of fairness, I should point out that my wife has 7 siblings. Of her mother’s 8 children, I’m pretty sure just about every one was late. So please factor that into your wagering.

On the day of her recent check-up, my wife had just completed her 14th week. And you know what that means… FOOD COMPARISONS by email. And sure enough, BabyCenter.com did not dissapoint. This week, my baby is the size of a lemon.

I wonder what will be next? A Hass avacado? That’s bigger than a lemon, right? At least the big ones are. My wife says Grapefruit. I think that may be an eventual one, but I can’t imagine Peanut growing from a Lemon to Grapefruit in just one week. That’s a lot of fruit my friend. I can’t wait for pineapple.

So 14 weeks. That means she started the second trimester. More good news is that her all-day “morning” sickness is now starting to subside. She said it’s mostly confined to waking up / getting ready in the morning, and then after she takes her vitamins. And that’s a huge improvement from basically feeling sick from sun-up to sun-down. A couple times she’s gotten dizzy or had to sit down, but for the most part — she’s feeling muuuuuch better.

Day 65: Catching up

I travel for work. Some times I’m home at good stretches. And at other times I’m on the road for good (bad?) stretches. Right now, I’m on a road stretch. Squeezing in time to write has been a challenge for sure.

Random thought #1: Is Seal possibly the ugliest famous person alive? He looks like E.T. after a knife fight. Gary Busey would have to be a close second.

Today is smack in the middle of my longest road stretch of the year so far. Since you last heard from me, the wife and I went to Portland for Thanksgiving (and told the rest of her family–more of that in a sec)… then we flew directly to Chicago for a week for my annual work conference. THEN, I was home for the weekend, and Monday flew out to Oakland. So, all in all, I’ve been home for 1 weekday since the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

Random thought #2: Hindus invented zero. I mean, they “invented it.” What did people do before zero was around? “Hey, how many chickens do you have?” “Well, less than one. But, I don’t know how to describe it.” It blows my mind that at some point in our history, people didn’t need zero. That’s crazy. Even crazier: there is a whole wikipedia page dedicated to zero. Is this really necessary?

Traveling so much is a nuisance. But now that my wife is “with child,” I’m realizing how much more of a nuisance it’s becoming. Once Peanut is born, I (hopefully) won’t want to leave. And more accurately – I likely won’t be able to leave for so long. I think our schedule is going to be arranged so that I watch Peanut on Mon and Fri’s. The cruddy part of my job is that sometimes, I have no more than 2 days warning before I have to hop on a plane. But, I guess my customers are going to have to accept the fact that I won’t be able to drop everything and come burp them.

We still haven’t fully discussed the whole daycare/nanny thing. I suppose we’re avoiding it. (That must be healthy, right?)

Random thought #3: I was walking down a stairwell in a parking garage, and in the bottom floor, someone taped up a hand-written sign that says, “This is NOT your bathroom.” I wonder how effective of a deterrent that sign is? A.) Are homeless people who pee in stairwells going to take the time to read your hastily written sign? B.) If they did bother to read the sign, are they really going to respect it? (“Pardon me kind garage attendant, can you point me in the right direction as to which stairwell floor I may pee all over?”)  Someone needs to do a study on this sign. I’m pretty sure it is a bum-pee magnet.