Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Punch My Son?
I want to present you with a couple of scenarios that you can probably relate to:
1) Have you ever had a strong, yet random thought that you want to punch someone in the face? You're not mad at them, or angry at all (at the moment...) but you have this aggressive image enter your mind. And then maybe you laugh to yourself because of the absurdity of "what if I really hit my neighbor's grandmother?"
2) Someone pokes you 700 times in the arm. Eventually, you want to hit their hand and arm away because enough is enough.
Hopefully you can relate to these situations because if not I just sound crazy.
My son has been kicking and poking the crap out of me and yesterday I had the thought "one more time and I'm gonna have to hit you back." And then, "um, no, you can't hit your son."
1) Have you ever had a strong, yet random thought that you want to punch someone in the face? You're not mad at them, or angry at all (at the moment...) but you have this aggressive image enter your mind. And then maybe you laugh to yourself because of the absurdity of "what if I really hit my neighbor's grandmother?"
2) Someone pokes you 700 times in the arm. Eventually, you want to hit their hand and arm away because enough is enough.
Hopefully you can relate to these situations because if not I just sound crazy.
My son has been kicking and poking the crap out of me and yesterday I had the thought "one more time and I'm gonna have to hit you back." And then, "um, no, you can't hit your son."
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Ramblings of a Businessman
So I started work last Monday. Fortunately, I have yet to feel an overwhelming urge to get my PhD.
I had my first business trip this past week. I went to Seattle, which was nice. What was not nice was the in-flight movie on the way back home. Jane Ayre. Seriously. I would have enjoyed being in the conference room where it was decided that showing Jane Ayre on a 2,000 mile flight was a good way to retain male customers.
Speaking of long, painful journeys, my wife is beginning to worry about the pain of delivering Matthew. My initial reaction was to call her a coward. However, I later learned this is actually typical of human beings when faced with the prospect of spending upwards of 48 hours pushing a head-and-shouldered creature out of their suddenly less private, less special place. And don't laugh at 48 hours. Our birthing class instructor's third kid took that long. She refers to him as "The One I Love Less."
It also doesn't help that a couple of our friends at school just had an absolutely gorgeous baby girl. Being that E is not a sociopathic monster, she has no qualms with the beauty or femininity of the new child. The issue is that the absolutely gorgeous baby girl took 35 hours to arrive and came out roughly the size of a duffel bag. A just barely under 10 pound duffel bag. So yeah, E is getting a little nervous. But she'll be fine. Everytime she has a big challenge she gets nervous then puts her head down and does it. It's quite impressive. That said, I'm not sure she will want her head down too much this time, it may be gross to watch what's going on.
Oh yeah, and the friend who made it 35 hours? ROCK STAR.
I had my first business trip this past week. I went to Seattle, which was nice. What was not nice was the in-flight movie on the way back home. Jane Ayre. Seriously. I would have enjoyed being in the conference room where it was decided that showing Jane Ayre on a 2,000 mile flight was a good way to retain male customers.
Speaking of long, painful journeys, my wife is beginning to worry about the pain of delivering Matthew. My initial reaction was to call her a coward. However, I later learned this is actually typical of human beings when faced with the prospect of spending upwards of 48 hours pushing a head-and-shouldered creature out of their suddenly less private, less special place. And don't laugh at 48 hours. Our birthing class instructor's third kid took that long. She refers to him as "The One I Love Less."
It also doesn't help that a couple of our friends at school just had an absolutely gorgeous baby girl. Being that E is not a sociopathic monster, she has no qualms with the beauty or femininity of the new child. The issue is that the absolutely gorgeous baby girl took 35 hours to arrive and came out roughly the size of a duffel bag. A just barely under 10 pound duffel bag. So yeah, E is getting a little nervous. But she'll be fine. Everytime she has a big challenge she gets nervous then puts her head down and does it. It's quite impressive. That said, I'm not sure she will want her head down too much this time, it may be gross to watch what's going on.
Oh yeah, and the friend who made it 35 hours? ROCK STAR.
Friday, July 22, 2011
A Brief Medical Update
This week I was tested for gestational diabetes. Test results came back negative today!
Also, today I received my rhogam injection which will prevent my body from attacking the baby. Kind of important.
Also, today I received my rhogam injection which will prevent my body from attacking the baby. Kind of important.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Ready to Bust?
Someone told me the other day that I look like I'm ready to bust.
Uh oh. I have 3 more months to ago.
Uh oh. I have 3 more months to ago.
Um, Phil... No.
Phil is our new landlord.
On the 4th of July (3 days after moving in), we realized there was a major leak caused by our dishwasher/disposal. Mike called Phil right away to tell him but assumed that given it was a holiday, he would not get back to us until the next day. But Phil chose not to get back to us at all.
Mike called two days later when he noticed 2 inches of water under the sink. Mike indicated the obvious to Phil, that a plumber needed to be called. Phil's response, no joke, was the following: "Well, my plumber has brain cancer and went back to Poland." Wow. That's genuinely really bad news to hear. But the issue we were discussing was that our appliances don't work and there is flooding going on. Oh, and there are MANY plumbers in the Chicago metropolitan area. Please call one of them.
Well good Ol' Phil chose not to call one of them but to just look at it himself two days later. He made a sexist remark about how I must have done something while doing the dishes and said without any confidence that he thought he knew what was wrong. He found a bolt in the disposal. I am definitely not an expert, but I think a bolt would cause a noise, not a leak. Unless it ruptured something while using the disposal, which it hadn't because the disposal had not been run with the bolt inside. He placed a bucket under the disposal and left.
Leak not fixed. Surprised? Neither were we. Phil responded to our next phone call by saying he would call a plumber that night. Mike said fine if a plumber would be by to fix it the next day. Really?!?!? Wait until the evening, with the weekend coming?
Long story longer...
There was no plumber and no responsiveness from Phil.
The following week, on Wednesday, Mike called Phil and his assistant Rick and asked to call a plumber himself, with the cost being taken out of next month's rent. Rick agreed to this. A plumber was called and the completely detached disposal was fixed.
On Saturday, Mike was called by Rick and told that Phil was not willing to pay more than $50 (the bill was $98) because he had to call an electrician which cost $75 to fix something else in the house.
Um, Phil... No.
On the 4th of July (3 days after moving in), we realized there was a major leak caused by our dishwasher/disposal. Mike called Phil right away to tell him but assumed that given it was a holiday, he would not get back to us until the next day. But Phil chose not to get back to us at all.
Mike called two days later when he noticed 2 inches of water under the sink. Mike indicated the obvious to Phil, that a plumber needed to be called. Phil's response, no joke, was the following: "Well, my plumber has brain cancer and went back to Poland." Wow. That's genuinely really bad news to hear. But the issue we were discussing was that our appliances don't work and there is flooding going on. Oh, and there are MANY plumbers in the Chicago metropolitan area. Please call one of them.
Well good Ol' Phil chose not to call one of them but to just look at it himself two days later. He made a sexist remark about how I must have done something while doing the dishes and said without any confidence that he thought he knew what was wrong. He found a bolt in the disposal. I am definitely not an expert, but I think a bolt would cause a noise, not a leak. Unless it ruptured something while using the disposal, which it hadn't because the disposal had not been run with the bolt inside. He placed a bucket under the disposal and left.
Leak not fixed. Surprised? Neither were we. Phil responded to our next phone call by saying he would call a plumber that night. Mike said fine if a plumber would be by to fix it the next day. Really?!?!? Wait until the evening, with the weekend coming?
Long story longer...
There was no plumber and no responsiveness from Phil.
The following week, on Wednesday, Mike called Phil and his assistant Rick and asked to call a plumber himself, with the cost being taken out of next month's rent. Rick agreed to this. A plumber was called and the completely detached disposal was fixed.
On Saturday, Mike was called by Rick and told that Phil was not willing to pay more than $50 (the bill was $98) because he had to call an electrician which cost $75 to fix something else in the house.
Um, Phil... No.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
TMI (Too Much Information, to Translate for My Parents)
So as Mike alluded to, we attended two lovely weddings this weekend. At one friend's wedding, there was a sweets table. At midnight, when leaving the wedding, a couple about our parents age was also leaving. The man had his hand in the large glass cylinder containing strawberry flavored marshmallows. His wife made a joke about how there was no utensil to take the marshmallows out, which made her wonder about the kids' hands that may have been in there, perhaps ones that were not so clean.
I then proceeded to agree with her by telling her that on one Sunday when Mike and I were teaching 1st and 2nd graders at church, we were not surprised, yet still uncomfortable, by the fact that a girl was scratching her bottom beneath her underwear. And when we said it was snack time and really made a point of requiring hand washing (because of her!) it was funny to us that she was the one girl that said her hands were clean and that she didn't need to. I laughed and said that of course we insisted that she wash her hands. The woman then uncomfortably laughed and when her husband asked her what were talking about, she said "I'll tell you another time." Hmmmm, what began as me innocently trying to relate to someone ended with me all too aware that, "Oops, I've shared WAY too much information...with a complete stranger."
I then proceeded to agree with her by telling her that on one Sunday when Mike and I were teaching 1st and 2nd graders at church, we were not surprised, yet still uncomfortable, by the fact that a girl was scratching her bottom beneath her underwear. And when we said it was snack time and really made a point of requiring hand washing (because of her!) it was funny to us that she was the one girl that said her hands were clean and that she didn't need to. I laughed and said that of course we insisted that she wash her hands. The woman then uncomfortably laughed and when her husband asked her what were talking about, she said "I'll tell you another time." Hmmmm, what began as me innocently trying to relate to someone ended with me all too aware that, "Oops, I've shared WAY too much information...with a complete stranger."
Saturday, July 9, 2011
And Twenty Seconds Later...
...I am posting the Week 26 WBU, which was taken at 11:30 last night in our glorious new master bedroom.
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Those are some handsome sweaters in that closet.
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The picture was taken right after we got home from a wedding. You have not tasted glory until you've had 15 mango brie quesadilla appetizers with caramelized onions. It must have sucked to be pregnant and not be able to eat the brie. I thought they were fantastic. Seriously. Really. Really. Splendid.
Those are some handsome sweaters in that closet.
The picture was taken right after we got home from a wedding. You have not tasted glory until you've had 15 mango brie quesadilla appetizers with caramelized onions. It must have sucked to be pregnant and not be able to eat the brie. I thought they were fantastic. Seriously. Really. Really. Splendid.
Week 25 WBU
We found the camera cord. Hoozah. Here she was at 25 weeks:
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Yes, that is a television sitting in the front hallway that you see through the screen door. This was taken outside the new, yet to be fully moved-into house. Don't judge us.
Yes, that is a television sitting in the front hallway that you see through the screen door. This was taken outside the new, yet to be fully moved-into house. Don't judge us.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Moving and Nutrition
So we moved to our new place on Friday. This was after a week of packing. Once we got to the new place, we didn't have the Internet until, well, tomorrow. I am sitting in Starbucks right now while E works. Hence, the lack of blog posts. I am sure all eight of our followers have been waiting breathlessly for our triumphant return to the blogosphere.
We also have a WBU for Week 25. It is sitting in our camera. We have no idea where the cord is to upload the image. So you will need to imagine what she looks like right now. I'll give you a clue: not smaller.
All jokes aside, the world should know how proud I am of the carrier of my child. She is rocking out for Matthew. I'm not sure you could have someone who eats a more balanced diet while pregnant and is more committed to providing the product of my loins with the nutrients necessary to develop a brain that is capable of an ACT score only slightly lower than mine and an arm that is capable of blowing 98 on the black*.
*"Blowing 98" refers to throwing a 98-mph fastball. "On the black" refers to throwing strikes on the edge of the strike zone. Pitches in such a location are more difficult to hit. The things I do for a blog that is read almost entirely by women.
Anyway, E really is amazing with the diet thing. It would be very easy for her to forget her vitamins, and not just because the pregnancy has left her bankrupt of anything resembling short or long term memory. It would also be very easy for her to deal with the stress of building a business, having an income-less husband with a bizarre school schedule, living in a dungeon**
**More on this later.
and being pregnant by retreating to the warmth and comfort of foods that are exclusively starch and/or cream based. Similarly, it would be very easy for her to deal with the discomfort and insecurity that comes with having a rapidly growing body and a jackass husband who makes fun of it on the Interwebs by actively trying to eat less. But she hasn't done any of this. Rather, she has done pretty much everything she is supposed to do, despite the fact that many of the recommendations border on impossible to actually follow through on***.
***Only eat fast food once a trimester? Get serious, American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. Idiots.
So yeah, she's been awesome. Well-balanced diet, staying hydrated, eating when she's hungry, vitamins everyday, not inhaling paint thinner. I believe that if Matthew were capable of such things, he would feel quite proud and appreciative of his mama right now.
Back to moving. We now inhabit a delightful three bed/two bath ranch with a big kitchen, two family rooms and a dining area. It is also free of mice, does not have a furnace two inches from a toilet, does not require a family of two to leave 70% of their possessions in someone else's basement, is not in a building that smells like a Phish concert and is not directly below a woman who apparently is convinced that if she does not continuously run to and fro in wooden shoes while blaring Bad Romance on repeat****,
****I was actually fine with the music.
only interrupting her workout to nail pictures into her kitchen floor, all 20 of her cats will die*****.
*****I don't think she actually has cats, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Given that our apartment of the last year could not make any of these claims, we are quite happy with our new abode. You know your apartment sucks when you leave with a month left on the lease and you say it is the worst living arrangement you have ever endured after spending the immediately preceding year LIVING WITH YOUR IN-LAWS FOR THE SECOND TIME SINCE GRADUATING COLLEGE******.
******It should be noted that for 8 of the combined 19 months I have lived with E's parents, she wasn't even living there herself. She was either in Atlanta going to grad school or still in Milwaukee working. I'm not sure whether I should right now be sending her parents a sincere thank you for all of their hospitality or an even more sincere apology for being such a poor provider for their only daughter.
I can only imagine how excited we will be once we actually have everything unpacked. It's incredible how much crap we have accrued over the past ten years. I say ten years, and not just the almost six years we've been married, because we still have a lot of junk from undergrad. We are now trying to plow through all the stuff and throw away what we don't need. I am struggling with this concept, because my wife and I have wildly differing views on the term "need." I think this is because I have a deep appreciation for sentimentality and realize that 50 years from now, it will be fun to see all the little things that made up the story of our lives. I also believe it will be exciting for Matthew to see some of the historical artifacts I have collected*******.
*******Including over 50 old newspapers of historical occurrences, such as the 49ers winning the Super Bowl in 1995, President Obama being elected in 2008, and last Thursday.
E thinks it is because I can't let go of anything. Or, as my buddy John eloquently stated as he helped me move a bunch of boxes into the new house, "You're a [synonym for fornicating] hoarder, dude."
I stand firm at "I'm right."
We also have a WBU for Week 25. It is sitting in our camera. We have no idea where the cord is to upload the image. So you will need to imagine what she looks like right now. I'll give you a clue: not smaller.
All jokes aside, the world should know how proud I am of the carrier of my child. She is rocking out for Matthew. I'm not sure you could have someone who eats a more balanced diet while pregnant and is more committed to providing the product of my loins with the nutrients necessary to develop a brain that is capable of an ACT score only slightly lower than mine and an arm that is capable of blowing 98 on the black*.
*"Blowing 98" refers to throwing a 98-mph fastball. "On the black" refers to throwing strikes on the edge of the strike zone. Pitches in such a location are more difficult to hit. The things I do for a blog that is read almost entirely by women.
Anyway, E really is amazing with the diet thing. It would be very easy for her to forget her vitamins, and not just because the pregnancy has left her bankrupt of anything resembling short or long term memory. It would also be very easy for her to deal with the stress of building a business, having an income-less husband with a bizarre school schedule, living in a dungeon**
and being pregnant by retreating to the warmth and comfort of foods that are exclusively starch and/or cream based. Similarly, it would be very easy for her to deal with the discomfort and insecurity that comes with having a rapidly growing body and a jackass husband who makes fun of it on the Interwebs by actively trying to eat less. But she hasn't done any of this. Rather, she has done pretty much everything she is supposed to do, despite the fact that many of the recommendations border on impossible to actually follow through on***.
***Only eat fast food once a trimester? Get serious, American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. Idiots.
So yeah, she's been awesome. Well-balanced diet, staying hydrated, eating when she's hungry, vitamins everyday, not inhaling paint thinner. I believe that if Matthew were capable of such things, he would feel quite proud and appreciative of his mama right now.
Back to moving. We now inhabit a delightful three bed/two bath ranch with a big kitchen, two family rooms and a dining area. It is also free of mice, does not have a furnace two inches from a toilet, does not require a family of two to leave 70% of their possessions in someone else's basement, is not in a building that smells like a Phish concert and is not directly below a woman who apparently is convinced that if she does not continuously run to and fro in wooden shoes while blaring Bad Romance on repeat****,
****I was actually fine with the music.
only interrupting her workout to nail pictures into her kitchen floor, all 20 of her cats will die*****.
*****I don't think she actually has cats, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Given that our apartment of the last year could not make any of these claims, we are quite happy with our new abode. You know your apartment sucks when you leave with a month left on the lease and you say it is the worst living arrangement you have ever endured after spending the immediately preceding year LIVING WITH YOUR IN-LAWS FOR THE SECOND TIME SINCE GRADUATING COLLEGE******.
******It should be noted that for 8 of the combined 19 months I have lived with E's parents, she wasn't even living there herself. She was either in Atlanta going to grad school or still in Milwaukee working. I'm not sure whether I should right now be sending her parents a sincere thank you for all of their hospitality or an even more sincere apology for being such a poor provider for their only daughter.
I can only imagine how excited we will be once we actually have everything unpacked. It's incredible how much crap we have accrued over the past ten years. I say ten years, and not just the almost six years we've been married, because we still have a lot of junk from undergrad. We are now trying to plow through all the stuff and throw away what we don't need. I am struggling with this concept, because my wife and I have wildly differing views on the term "need." I think this is because I have a deep appreciation for sentimentality and realize that 50 years from now, it will be fun to see all the little things that made up the story of our lives. I also believe it will be exciting for Matthew to see some of the historical artifacts I have collected*******.
*******Including over 50 old newspapers of historical occurrences, such as the 49ers winning the Super Bowl in 1995, President Obama being elected in 2008, and last Thursday.
E thinks it is because I can't let go of anything. Or, as my buddy John eloquently stated as he helped me move a bunch of boxes into the new house, "You're a [synonym for fornicating] hoarder, dude."
I stand firm at "I'm right."
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