I'm back

So, two weeks later I checked back in...

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When I picked Sam up from daycare yesterday, one of the gals there told me that they couldn't stop laughing at his all day. She wondered if I could explain a rather peculiar behavior that he had been exhibiting.

It seems that every time one of the kids at day care began to cry, Sam would scoot over to them and yell in their face. He smiled the whole time, so he didn't seem to be upset, but he was very consistent about it.

Misc. Baby: "WAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

Sam: "AAAHHHHHH!!!!!"

I was quick to blame S.A. who loves to play "the Yelling Game" with him. She defends herself by saying that Grandma (My mom, who was a preschool consultant and speech therapist for years.) says that you're supposed to repeat what babies say back to them, so when Sam vocalizes loudly, she just responds in kind.

Still the mental picture is just great.

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Last night, as she was feeding Sam, S.A. looked at Sam's hair and asked me "What was that haircut called that all the actors had in the 90's? You know the one George Clooney had that was short with a straight-line around the forehead? The Nero?"

"The Caesar, dear. Wrong emperor..."

Maybe y'all don't find it nearly as funny as I did, but I love the idea of the hairdresser who fiddled while Rome burned.

Affirmative action

A little fair warning- This post is just off the top of my head. Some details contained in it may well change in the furute as new information presents itself to me. Just so you know...

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Well, SA blogged about Proposition 2 today and, as is invariably the case, somebody felt it necessary to cry out in the comments section that all the poor, beleaguered white men want is a fair shake, doggone it. Okay, I guess I'm paraphrasing a little. His (I'm assuming it's a him.) actual words were, “Every opponent that has spoken out about this proposal has failed to answer one simple question. Can you answer it? What is wrong with equal protection under the law?"

I don't feel as strongly as SA does about the necessity of affirmative action in employment. That's not to say I don't feel it's necessary, it's just saying that I won't be burning my bra about it any time soon. My feelings about affirmative action are much stronger in relation to higher education.

I grew up in a very small town in Northern Michigan. I graduated from high school with 54 students, all of them white. However, (even though my high school guidance counselor told me I was insane) I went to college in Miami, Fl. The biggest reason I left home was because I knew it was important for me to see something different. My parents instilled this in me from a very early age. Unfortunately, most people in the world are afraid of anything different.

I explain all this for a reason. The best part, I repeat- THE BEST PART of my college education is that I went to a school with a tremendously diverse population. I learned a HUGE amount about the rest of world and the way people experience it because I went to school with a whole ton of people who were VERY different from me. Had I gone to a small school in Michigan - Northern Michigan University is almost exactly the same size - I would not have had that experience, because, like most public universities in Michigan, Northern's student population is almost exclusively white.

One exception to the lily-white rule in Michigan is the University of Michigan. Michigan has admitted that they do weigh race into their admissions decision-making because they feel that diversity is an important part of a positive college experience. I'm sure that they'd rather not have to look at race but the problem is that, in the United States, minorities tend to be concentrated in urban areas and, unfortunately, inner-city schools tend to be inferior to their suburban and even rural counterparts. Because minority students often get an inferior high school education, to weigh their desirability compared to white students solely on their grades and test scores would not result in nearly as many minority students attending Michigan as the school wants. So they factor race into the equation.

Anti-affirmative action advocates often state that this is unfair to white students. They're wrong. By having a more diverse population, colleges provide a more positive experience for ALL their students. Also, for all the folks who say, "Now you have students in school who shouldn't be there because they didn't get a good enough education to be successful at a school like Michigan!" check the graduation rates.

Michigan, the lightning-rod for all the affirmative action controversy, has the highest graduation rate of any public university in the state. Not bad for a school that keeps letting all those "unqualified" students in. My guess (based on my personal experience) is that if you were to look at only the students who were specifically admitted to U of M based on affirmative action guidelines, you'd find that their grades and graduation rates were even better than the student body at large. Those folk tend to be the people who really want to be in college. They recognize the opportunity they've been presented with and don't want to waste it.

I guess my point is this, the day that everybody actually has an even playing field- when every student has access to the same quality of education - when Michigan voters decide that it might actually be important to give enough money to education to FIX it!!!- then affirmative action in college admissions won't be necessary. But until then, it's necessary. Period.

One other note...

Every time SA and I see one of those "Choose Life" bumper stickers, we comment to each other "Do you think those geniouses realize that they have a PRO-CHOICE bumper sticker on their car?"

Valid comments from chickens*** commenters

I received a comment on yesterday's entry, "SA kicks ass."

The comment was left by "Anonymous" which completely pisses me off. If you are going to express an opinion, PUT A NAME WITH IT. Grow some cojones. I'm not saying you have to use your proper name (notice that mine does not show up anywhere on this blog) but put some identifier with your ideas so people can respond to them.

That said, here's the comment.

Anonymous said...

Doesn’t that onesie idea make you think about the alternative? It’s a pretty ugly thought. Anyway, why do you feel the need to polarize everyone you consider a “republican” into mindless Bush-drones. That’s almost as ignorant as pretending like it’s cool to have to have the right to pick and choose which babies are wanted enough to deserve a birthday.

I feel VERY strongly about abortion. If you want a more complete explanation of those feelings, read my entry from the Roe v. Wade Anniversary. Or better yet, read SA's, also from Jan 22nd. She got quite a bit of national blog press for hers. But here's my quickie response to the comment.

There are 3 separate issues addressed here. So allow me to respond to them in order.

1. I think about the alternative all the time. My son is a miracle. We did not think we'd be able to have him, so I'm incredibly thankful for every moment I'm with him. Personally, I'm totally against abortion. I just don't feel that my personal feelings should dictate the law.

2. My habit of "polariz[ing] everyone [I] consider a “republican” into mindless Bush-drones" is certainly over-simplifying things. I currently vote mostly (though not completely) along Democratic Party lines even though I disagree with a few issues here and there, because I strongly agree with the major issues. I don't accuse most people who read my blog (especially those who take the time to comment) of being "mindless". On the contrary, people who agree with the current Republic stance on abortion are "myopic and self-centered" and people who agree with their stance on Gay rights and diversity issues are "bigots".

3. Anyone who suggests that anything related to abortion is "cool" is an ass. However, living in a country where we get to make decisions about ourselves for ourselves, IS "cool". Christ... Lately it's about the only good thing I can say about living here. (BTW- That, too, was hyperbole, lest it be otherwise lost on you.) And again, if you really want a detailed explanation of why I'm Pro-Choice, read my Roe v. Wade entry.

Alright, back down off my soapbox. At least for a little while.

Oh yes... Thanks for commenting. Please come again. (Seriously.)

SA kicks ass.

My wife has decided she wants to make a one-sy (one-sie? How the hell are you supposed to spell that? You know, the one-piece oufit that babies wear...) for Sam that says "My mom is Pro-Choice. She chose me."
It's times that this that really make me love her.

Also, voting day is coming up. Remember, Republicans don't care about you. (Unless you're a multi-millionaire. Then they're more than happy to kiss your ass. And seriously, if you're a multi-millionaire, what're you doing reading my blog?)

Note of the day

S.A. gave be a bit of grief this morning because I didn't have any breakfast. I didn't feel this was exactly a crisis, as I gained 40 pounds while she was pregnant with Junior (I've lost 15 since he was born), but I figured I could probably use some sort of energy source for my day so I stopped at Big Apple Bagel for a coffee on my way to work.

It turns out that the Cinnamon Toast Latte is really good. Also, if you flirt a little with the gal at the counter, she'll give you a large CTL for the price of a regular coffee.

I may not have eaten yet today, but at least I fed my ego.

How Roe vs. Wade enabled us to get pregnant

Today is the 33rd anniversary of the landmark Roe vs. Wade decision.

When Justice Robert Blackmun delivered the opinion of the court, he included the following statement, with which I wholly concur.

"We forthwith acknowledge our awareness of the sensitive and emotional nature of the abortion controversy, of the vigorous opposing views, even among physicians, and of the deep and seemingly absolute convictions that the subject inspires. One's philosophy, one's experiences, one's exposure to the raw edges of human existence, one's religious training, one's attitudes toward life and family and their values, and the moral standards one establishes and seeks to observe, are all likely to influence and to color one's thinking and conclusions about abortion. "

In other words, if you disagree with me, that's okay. I just think you're wrong. Thankfully, the same freedoms that allow women to make decisions about their own body also allow all of us to make decisions about what we believe without fear of repercussion. (At least that's how it's supposed to work.)

Just so y'all understand, I am very definitely "Pro-Choice". I am definitely NOT "Pro-Abortion".

S.A. and I tried to get pregnant for over 3 years. When we found out that we were finally pregnant, it was a huge surprise because we had basically given up hope of ever conceiving. We were operating under the assumption that we were going to have to adopt in order to have children. So needless so say, though we were both strong proponents of the adoption process before that point, we were definitely in favor of it now. But our personal beliefs for how we choose to live our lives are not something that we think has any legal standing.

Both S.A. and I come from big Catholic families, and I would be willing to guess that, were you to interview all the members of our immediate and extended families, you would get the same answers from about 95% of them.

Abortion is wrong. This is true (most of them would say) in much the same way that adultery, murder, and child abuse are wrong. I believe that, for this reason, many of them would tell you that they are "pro-life" and that Roe vs. Wade should be struck down. The only major problem with that line of thinking is this-

You CANNOT legislate morality.

Devout Catholics believe that it is WRONG to eat meat on a Friday. Muslims believe it's WRONG to eat pork. According to my old CCD classes (Catholic Sunday School, for all you non-Catholic out there,) the thought is the same as the deed so it is WRONG to "lust" after the hottie who sits 3 rows over from you in your biology class. And simply thinking about how nice it would be to pull out a rocket launcher and blow the SUV in front of you (who is driving 15 miles under the speed limit and has had his turn signal on for 7 miles) off the road is WRONG. It's the same as actually doing it in "God's Eyes".

But no-one would ever suggest that we make laws against all these things. Why? Because you CANNOT LEGISLATE MORALITY. This is THE basic concept upon which this country was founded.

Now I believe that you would be very hard-pressed to find someone who thought that abortion was something they hoped to go through at some point in their life. And to anyone who suggests that folks who have an abortion rather than the alternatives (keeping the baby, offering it up for abortion) , I offer up the following opinion.

You, sir/ma'am, are an idiot.

I'm not going to go into all the research that's been done about the lifelong mental and emotional effects of having an abortion (Do a google search. They're not hard to find. Also, S.A. wrote a much longer and, in all honesty, better blog about this stuff today.) but the decision to have, and the results of having, an abortion are not EASY in any way, shape, or form.

I'll probably try to post a bit more information here later today, but I'll offer up this last bit of personal information before I need to leave for church. (I know, shocking. The pro-choice heathen goes to church.)

When S.A. and I were basically given one last chance to conceive a baby, we were told that because of the nature of the medical treatment we were undergoing, the odds of having "high-level multiples" (e.g. 3 or more babies) were extremely high. Because of this, we were commanded by our doctor to come to a decision relating to our feelings about "selective reduction". In other words, because of the health risks involved in any multiple pregnancy and birth, would we be willing/able to choose to abort some of the fetuses if we found out there were 3 or 4 or 5 or more?

Obviously the specifics of our decision are a pretty personal thing so I won't give you all the details, but in short form, the answer was YES.

Because of the especially high risks to S.A. (We're considered a "high-risk" pregnancy.) carrying an especially high number of multiples (quints, sextuplets) would be EXTREMELY dangerous to both her and to the babies. Because of this, had selective reduction not been an option, (which it WILL NOT BE if our current political administration gets its way,) we would not have been able to have children of our own, because, as much as I want children, I was CATEGORICALLY unwilling to risk S.A.'s health and, more importantly, life.

Thankfully, when we finally got pregnant, it was with just one baby. He's due on April 16th. And I cannot begin to express how glad I am that I was not forced with making a choice between not even trying to conceive a baby and risking the life of the most important person in my life.

The opposite of "Pro-Life" is NOT "Pro-Choice". It's "Pro-Death". I'm immensely thankful that the laws in this country are such that people like S.A. and I actually had a choice. That, among many other reasons, is why I'm Pro-Choice.

Laterz

Positive Affirmations for Childbirth (From a Guy's Point of View)

At Lamaze class last night, S.A. and I were given a sheet of paper labeled "Positive Affirmations for Childbirth". It's a list of things that we should say aloud to ourselves or write down repeatedly throughout the week. Evidently, if we say enough good things to ourselves during the days and weeks that lead up to the birth, we won't worry so much when the slimy lizard pops out from between her legs. I think that for anyone who is considering attending a Lamaze class in the future, it might be important for you to understand what you're in for.

Affirmations for the Man/Partner

1. I see my wife as a strong and capable woman, and this does not threaten me. (This may not threaten me, but I guarantee that if S.A. hears me spouting this drivel when she's in the hospital, she's definitely gonna threaten me.)
2. Childbirth is a safe and natural process. (Safe for who? It may be natural, but anything that involves screaming, blood, and what is apparently a mucus-covered reptile coming out of my wife's private region, can hardly be described as being exactly safe. And the fact that she's made it very clear that she doesn't care if I pass out and crack my head open on the floor in the delivery room, but I am damn well gonna be with her in the delivery room even though I really hate both needles and blood implies to me that the process may not be entirely safe for me either.)
   
3. I am supporting my wife during her labor, even when she is in pain. (I'm assuming they don't mean this in a literal sense. She's planning on being largely numb through the process and I am certainly not planning to hold her up through the whole process. Especially since both our mom's were in labor for 24 hours+ when in labor with us.)
   
4. It is OK for my wife to have pain during childbirth. I know the pain is temporary, and can't harm her. (Again, can't harm her??? Episiotomy, anyone?)
   
5. I am expressing my love to my wife easily and frequently. (Frequently, yes. As she gets crankier and clutzier, easily may be an overstatement.)
   
6. I am accepting the labor that is meant for us. (What's this us stuff??? I'm not going into labor. And who exactly meant it for us? If God intended for people to suffer through "natural childbirth" he wouldn't have invented epidurals.)
   
7. I am accepting feelings of helplessness, and I know that these feelings are normal. (I'm confused. How am I helpless? Do I need help? Should I be more helpful? I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to do any of the pushing.)
   
8. I am feeling the love others have for me when I need support. (This is complete crap. People do not give a shit when I need support. When we have company to the house now, they don't even bother to say hello to me. The general order of events is- Ask how "Mama" is doing; rub her stomach; go look at the nursery. People are not concerned about dad needing any support.)
   
9. I am sensitive, tender, open, and trusting. (I'm not really known for being sensitive or tender; I tend to be a little too open; and, as they say on the X-Files, "Trust no-one.")
   

Christmas Thank Yous

First things first-

I, again, must apologize for not writing as often as I ought. I realize that there are a certain group of folks who look forward to reading my blog and, though I question their rather alarming lack of taste in reading material, I still feel an obligation to update most often than I have the past while. Mea culpa.

I also have 1 request to send out.

Laura- If you’re reading this, could you grab my black leather jacket from your Grandpa’s front room if you visit him this week? I left it there when S.A. and I left and I can get it when I see you this weekend. Thanks a ton. (No obligation, I just thought you might be around there during the week.)

That said, today’s blog is pretty much a long thank you letter. It is, by and large, more serious than most of my blogs, so you’ll have to forgive me. If you’re looking for comedy, you should probably check back in tomorrow. I promise I’ll try to get back to normal.

• An extended and repeated Merry Christmas, Happy Chanuka, etc. to all the Poker Gang. Y’all are the biggest reason that Michigan again feels like home to me for the first time in 10 years.


• Liam- I’m happy to play surrogate dad when the situation dictates. Make sure your family knows, if they start to tease you that your friends feel a need to play that role, that I hope that my son turns out very much like you in many respects.


• Johnny & Adrian- I’m proud of you both. It’s not easy being the adults in a house full of really big kids.


• Skippy – You’re smarter than you let on. Don’t treat that like something about which you should be embarrassed. Keep following your musical dream. You’ve already shown more balls on that front than I was ever able to and I still regret that on a regular basis. DO NOT let day-to-day living take away from that. Corporate America will suck out your soul if you let it.


• Paul, Trav, Susanna, etc. – We love you all.


• Merry Christmas and a large Thank You to Kev. It’s kind of fun to be pushing 30 and to again have a “best friend”. Remember that, for all the jokes we make about your being a geeky, selfish bastard, you have an awful lot to offer. There are very few intelligent, polite, selfless people in the world. That should be a source of confidence for you, not of embarrassment.


• To the Tropic Cove Bowling Team – Thanks guys. This is the most fun I’ve even had with a team in any sport that I wasn’t coaching.


• Frog – You’re good people. You still irritate the piss out of me from time to time, but I can’t wait to watch what a great aunt you’ll be. Remember when I say I think you’re gonna be Aunt Ev that Aunt Ev was ALWAYS my favorite Aunt. I HOPE the Sam thinks you’re just like her.

• Mom & Pop- Thanks for everything this Christmas. Sorry we couldn't go to Church with you, but I think that the extra family time is way more valuable than church anway. As always you spent way too much money on us, but we certainly appreciate it.
  

• Danno & Sylv- I am incredibly blessed to have 2 sets of parents. Thank you for everything.
  

• Jeff & Matt - I now know what it would be like to have brothers. Thanks guys.
  

• Rachel - You've always been Sarah's best friend. Strangely, I'm starting to feel like you one of mine, too. Thanks.

• Joe- When that RoboSapiens learns to play baseball, let me know. Aunt Sarah & I both love you.

• To the entire Hamp Clan- Thanks for making me part of your family even when I know there are certainly times you'd probably like to deposit me in the nearest snowbank.

• Hello, Merry Christmas, and we miss you to the whole Barry Gang. Shawna, Michelle, Jen, Drew, Stev, Kerry, Dr. M, P.J., & J.K. We're stuck here in Michigan without a huge chuck of our family. Hopefully you all can make it to Michigan sometime this year once Sam's born.

And last, but certainly not least-

• Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and I Love You to S.A. You're my whole world, at least for the next 3 months or so.
  

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, etc. to everyone. I hope next year is as happy and fulfulling for all of you as this one has been for us.

Laterz

FUMMMMMBBBBBLLLLLE!!!!!

It turns out there's a reason that regulation NFL footballs aren't grown in gardens.

Our friend Tim came over to play poker a few months ago. He brought us a melon. We didn't really know what kind of melon it was and Tim didn't say, but we gratefully accepted it, because Tim's our only friend who does those things and we try to set a good example for the rest of the kids who play poker with us.

The melon, however, was very dark green with orange spots on it. S.A. and I guessed it was probably something similar to a cantaloupe or a muskmelon, must it really was just a guess. Because neither of us likes any kind of melon except for watermelon, we decided we would hold on to it until we had a chance to give it to my mom, who loves melon of every sort.

So it sat on our counter for a couple months.

Somewhat amazingly, it didn't start to visibly rot in all that time. However, this weekend, when I woke up at 4:30am on Sunday with an urge to do some major house-cleaning (It's a sickness that runs in my family. Don't ask.), I decided that I would run it out to the field behind our house and drop it out there. I figured some hungry deer might eat it.

Now, for those of you who don't know me well, I'm a sort of high-energy guy. I don't normally walk places, and when I have work to do, I try to turn it into some sort of game or contest with myself in order to make the time pass more quickly and make the task more enjoyable.

Since I also had a spaghetti squash that needed to be tossed, I carried both items onto my back porch, wearing my slippers and pjs. It's about 50 yards from my back porch to the beginning of the field/swamp that's out behind the house. Tossing the squash up in the air and catching it, I decided that I could easily toss it from the porch into the field, thereby creating a fun game for myself (How far can I throw a squash?) and also removing the necessity to actually go out into by back yard in the 50mph+ wind gusts that wracked Northern Michigan on Sunday. However, having a very good knowledge of sports medicine and physiology, I knew that throwing it overhand without warming up first would probably result in some sort of injury and may even necessitate of the removal of an arm. (I'm REALLY out of shape.) Therefore, I threw it discus-style.

The throw was a success, landing 10 yards or so into the long grass, but I realized that, considering how much heavier the melon was, I might very well be unsuccessful in throwing it all the way out there. I also have some experience with what happens with melons dropped from a considerable height, so I knew I really didn't want this thing exploding all over my back yard. I've been trying to clean the yard up for winter and I knew that an exploding melon can create quite a mess.

So I decided I was gonna have to carry it out there.

My drive for fun still soundly in place, I decided to tuck the melon under my arm, running-back-style, and dodge imaginary defenders on my way through the back yard.

The first couple defenders missed me as I executed a perfect spin move around a wooden bench. I sped by another defender running straight down the field and then realized I had only one defender left to beat. With a huge gust of wind blowing me to the left, I went left, planted my slippered foot, and threw my shoulders back to the right. My upper body shot to the right...

And my feet flew out of my slippers and went left.

I went down hard, protecting the melon with both arms in front of me, as any good halfback would. It turns out there's a good reason that they don't run football practice with melons.

Considering that me primary for carrying the melon through the yard in the first place was to avoid a mess, I really had to consider my plan a failure. Landing on what turns out to be a very nice watermelon (D'oh!) resulted in my having watermelon goop all over my pj pants and t-shirt as well as in my mouth, ears, and hair. It also led to my being concerned that I may have cracked a rib on the doggone melon, as it hurt quite a bit to take a breath.

It turns out that I'm fine. No harm done. Well, excluding the melon.

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1 other short note.

S.A. and I were chatting about being pregnant last night. I make a comment about "by boys" getting the job done.

She replied that it would have been nice if they'd gotten it done a bit more quickly, so we hadn't stressed for YEARS.

I replied that she should have expected that. There are MY sperm, after all, and I never do anything the first few times she asks me.

She should have given them a damn list.

I'm guessing she could have thought of a good place to put it.

Laterz.

How can you tell if a fish is drooling?

I'm sick.

I have a cold. And, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I don't often get sick, and therefore am not very good at it. I'm honestly a great big weenie. I moan and whine and am generally miserable. Also, I don't think very well. I assume that this is due to snot building up in the synapses in my brain.

Last night I walked to the dresser to grab my pill bottle and take take my night-time meds. Due to my compromised mental state, I accidentally picked up the fish food and, without noticing, unscrewed the cap and poured it into my hand, just as I would a pill. Thankfully, before I threw a handful of "mega marine" into my mouth, I realized what i had and carefully put it back into the cannister.

I related this story to S.A., who was standing nearby, as a humorous display of my sickness. She stated that it'd nbo big deal as it was just ocean veggies.

I replied that though it might not be life-threatening, it would be very disgusting, as it's made of ground up fish.

She was incredulous. "It is??"

I proceeded to read off the ingredients. Ground Salmon, halibut, sardines, etc.

She looked at me with an extremely perplexed look on her face.

"How come they don't get 'Mad Fish Disease'?" she asked.

Her delivery was deadpan enough that I thought she was serious. I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants.

I love my wife.

Laterz.

It's game time!

Just got back from G.R. where we went to the Pissers first pre-season game. It was S.A.'s b-day yesterday, so this was part of her present. We attended to game with her sister Rachel and Rach's husband Jeff. Very enjoyable game, with one very minor exception.

Jeff and Rachel chipped in with us so that we could have very good seats at the game. The seats directly in front of us remained empty throughout the 1st half, but at halftime, a couple decided that those seats looked great and since they weren't being used... So they sat in front of us.

I have no problem with seat jumpers. I've done it myself at many sporting events and I do think that there's no reason to let the seats go to waste. However, I and also not a drunken asshole. This could not be said for the gentleman who sat down directly in front of me. He had so much alcohol in him that he was visibly shaking. This, however, did not prevent him from jumping up and down and screaming about things that didn't draw any reaction from the rest of the crowd. I realized that his behavior was not only irritating me, but making it impossible for S.A. to see any of the action. I decided that I needed to ask the gentleman to sit down.

This, however, required some amount of planning, because most drunks at sporting events are also belligerent, in my experience. The fact that he was obviously with a date made this possibility even more likely. Also, because we were sitting at the front of the upper deck, I was afraid that if he took a swing at me and I ended up punching him, there was a decent chance that, in his obviously balance-impaired state, he would fall over the railing. Regardless of how aggravating he was, I really didn't need to kill him.

S.A., on the other hand decided to do the more mature, if somewhat less cathartic, thing. She stood up walked over to the female usher at the top of the stairs and politely asked her to deal with the idiot in front of us. When the usher asked to see his ticket and saw that his assigned seats were ACROSS THE ARENA, she asked them to get out of her section. Fans around us applauded. The usher walked back over to S.A. and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. They were obviously sister enforcers.

Jeff, who had been pointedly ignoring the moron and concentrating on the game, leaned over and asked me what had happened. I told him that the guy had been convicted of "Drunk in front of S.A."

After that, the game went smoothly. The Pistons won and we both got a decent night's sleep at R&J's. It was a good time and, I think, a very happy birthday for S.A.

Also, just because she sometimes wishes I'd make grand-er gestures in public I offer this-

Happy Birthday S.A.
I Love You!

Laterz.

Baby Names

Hey! 2 posts in one day! God forbid anyone should think I actually have a real job...

S.A. and I went in this morning to have our first ultrasound. Well, Sarah had an ultrasound. I stood there, holding her hand and making what I hope were comforting faces. This early in the gestation, they don't do the ultrasounds like you see on TV withe the goop on the belly and the defibrilator paddles (or whatever those are). When you're only 6 weeks in, they do the old "trans-vaginal" ultrasound. In other words they stick this plastic wand WAAAYYYY up inside the pregnant woman so they can see what's happening inside. At first, her facial expressions alarmed me, but I relaxed when i realized that the only reason her eyes kept buggin halfway out of their sockets is because the OB/GYN was pushing them out with that little wand. I assume anything is okay, as long as a doctor is doing it.
Anyway, they found "Junior", as S.A. has taken to calling him. I asked if it was okay if, just for now, I called him "Spot". Yet another one of those moments when I wish I was blind so I didn't realize the looks of horror, display, and anger that are so often directed my way. So I am NOT calling the baby Spot. Not even in jest. I might call it Elton for now, on the suggestion of Andrew Andrew.
Anyway, it's official. We really do have a baby growing inside my wife. Hopefully we'll have better luck with him/her than we do with our houseplants, or else the poor thing will be born with brown leaves and mold around his/her feet.
Also, I feel that Spot was a perfectly logical, if somewhat insensitive, choice of name right now, as you can see in our first baby picture. He/She is the little white-ish smudge in the bottom right part of the black circle. (I think.)

Anyway, I just thought y'all would like to know. :)

Laterz

Big News

Alright. After spending the last 3 days calling people, I feel that I can now safely write this without risking too many important people finding out about it via my blog, which seems a bit impersonal.

S.A.'s pregnant.

Needless to say, we're more than a little bit excited. We found out on Friday afternoon, and the due date isn't until April, so we've got a long, scary, way to go, but this is great news. (Also, it looks like I'm the father. So that's a relief.) As it's so early in the process, we don't really know anything, but we do know that there were 2 eggs this month, which means that twins are a possibility. Oh joy. A month ago I'd have given... well, anything for twins. Now that I know we're pregnant, however, I'm a bit apprehensive about being responsible for more than 1 infant. C'est la vie, I guess.

It was a very exciting weekend. We both got to tell our folks exactly the way we'd hoped to, ever since we first discussed having kids. I gave my parents a sign that used to hang on my grandparents cottage saying "Welcome to Grandma & Grandpa's" and Sarah gave her mom a book called "My Granny's Purse". (If you're not familiar with it, check out Amazon.com. It's very cool.) S.A.'s dad teared up, which was VERY cool, because he's not generally the outwardly emotional type.

All in all, a very good weekend. Anyway, it sounds like I'll have something else to talk about now, but we'll see where it leads. Thanks to everyone for all your good thoughts and prayers and I promise I'll keep y'all informed.

Laterz

Sleep Loss...

Let be begin by saying that I love my wife. She's the most important thing in my life and I cannot imagine living without her. That being said, when I got up this morning, she was not my favorite person in the world.
S.A. is one of those lucky people who decides, "Gee, I'm tired," and immediately falls asleep. I, on the other hand, am not so lucky. I, like generations of Villemures before me, am an insomniac. Specifically, I have a hard time falling asleep. Once I'm out, it'd take a bomb blast to wake me up, but putting me out is a whole different kettle of fish. My method for combatting this affliction is generally to read until I can't keep my eyes open. Then I fall right asleep. I only run into problems when I turn the light off too soon. Then I lie there and think. And think. And think. This process often takes upwards of 3 hours.
Thankfully, S.A. Understands this and normally doesn't give me too much hassle for keeping my light on when she rolls over to go to sleep. Last night, however, I was bothering her more than normal by reading. Today she tells me that it was because I was reading a magazine and turning the pages was much more noisy. She says she wouldn't have minded a book. She neglected to tell me that salient detail last night, however.
Since I was obviously bothering her, I chose to go out the the couch to read for a while. Unfortunately, even when I felt tired enough to go to bed, I'd be awake again by the time I got into the bed. This led to a night-long saga of reading on the couch for 45 minutes and then lying in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour, which was repeated over and over again. At about 3:45 I finally began to drift off. However, at about that point I was awakened by S.A. asking me why I wasn't asleep. Without responding, because I use that "Because YOU wouldn't let me read!" was unlikely to lead to my falling asleep any sooner, I rolled over and attempted to driftt back off. At about 4:30 as I was again drifting off, I was reawakned by "Why aren't you asleep?". This time I couldn't resist responding "Because you keep TALKING to me!" I finally fell asleep about 4:45. Seven o'clock seemed get there very quickly.
So today I'm a bit cranky. However, I still want to say congratulations to Andrew Andrew who just finished working on his M.B.A. (I, of course, am an MBS. M for Master, BS for, well, BS. To quote Alf- "Heh, I Kill me!") Alright thanks for letting me vent. I'll check in later with John Roberts news.

Back pain

A good deal of my life, right now, is focused on infertility. Infertility is not one of the things you think about when you're in high school or college and considering what you future might hold. To be perfectly honest, when you’re 17, it sounds like a blessing. Those videos you watched in sex education class in 9^th grade made it seem like your girlfriend could become pregnant just by standing in the same room with you. So the thought of not getting her pregnant was not something that kept you awake at nights.

So then you meet the right girl and you have similar career goals and family goals and you get married. And though you both want to have kids, you also know it’s “NOT THE RIGHT TIME”. (Say this in the VOICE OF GOD.) So she goes on “the pill”. Now, if you have good health insurance, “the pill” costs $10 a month, because that’s your copay. However, if you don’t have insurance, it costs approximately as much as buying a new Ford Escort. (My wife tells me this is untrue; that it only costs $30 a month, but it sure seemed like a lot when we were first married.) But that’s okay, because you don’t actually want a new Escort, but you definitely want to make sure you don’t get pregnant right then. So you eat lots of Ramen noodles, because that’s all you can afford after paying for birth control, and you continue with your life.

And then, after a few years of having everyone you know tell you “You can never AFFORD to have kids, you just HAVE them!”, you decide that it might be time to think about getting pregnant. This is a very major step, because the truth is, you don’t feel like an adult yet. Though you badly want to have kids, the sooner the better, the thought of having a little helpless person depending on you for everything, or else it will DIE, does not put you at ease, because the only plant in your house that you haven’t killed is the Christmas Cactus your high school librarian gave you as a graduation present, and that’s only because it doesn’t mind if you only water it every 3 months or so. And there have STILL been a couple close calls. But, thankfully, you married someone smarter than you are, and you know that even if you forget that you have a baby for a month or two, (HEY, it’s basketball season! My brain space is completely taken up by rebounds per game and Western Conference injury reports! I can’t remember EVERYTHING!) she will, in all likelihood, remember to feed the baby. (Of course I don't actually think I'd forget I have a child. I've never gone more than a week with out feeding the cats.)

So you start “trying”.

Warning! The rest of this column contains mention of SEX. If you are uncomfortable with the topic of SEX, DO NOT read on. If you are in any way related to me, consider whether or not this is a mental picture you want to be saddled with for the rest of your life.

Now, “trying” to get pregnant is not, as chores go, too bad. It involves, contrary to what you may have believed about a stork, SEX. I, for one, am completely in favor of almost anything that involves sex, so I was wholly supportive of this “trying” business. So we tried. (S.A. has expressed concern that you, faithful reader, with think I am a neanderthal who has no interest in actually having children and undertook this project only as a means by which to fool around. This is definitely not true. I love kids and I badly want kids. I cannot wait to teach my daughters to play softball and my sons to avoid ever cleaning bathrooms by convincing women that we can't SEE the poop that's smeared on the side of the toilet. I really want kids, but let's be honest. THe sex thing is a pretty nice perk.) And then we tried some more. And then we tried a little more. And after about 6 months, we decided that we might want to talk to a doctor, because we still weren’t pregnant. We assumed that was not normal, because we knew teenagers who had gotten pregnant, and we were pretty sure they weren’t “trying”.

And so begins the saga of infertility. When you tell a doctor that you've been "trying" for 6 months and you're still not pregnant, they tell you that you're "infertile" There are a variety of causes for this. In our case, S.A. suffers from something called PCOS, poly-cystic ovarian syndrome. But it doesn't really matter what the reason is, because all you're thinking is that you've been paying for birth control pills for years when there was absolutely no reason to do so because you COULDN'T GET PREGNANT ANYWAY.

But the doctors tell you not to worry; that they can get you pregnant. And because you have a female doctor, you don't assume that this statement involves anything inappropriate. The first thing they have you do (And by YOU I mean the woman. They pretty much tell the man to sit there and be quiet.) is to take hormones. Hormones are EXPENSIVE. Well, they're not too bad to start; about the same as birth control. But by the time they have OCTUPLED your dose, they cost about as much as an Escalade. Intentionally taking hormones at all seems silly to me, because I’ve been around my wife during PMS and she seems to have an excess of hormones. And furthermore, I’m pretty damn sure she wouldn’t be willing to pay for them, because they occasionally make her act like Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Yet, because the doctor said so, we pay for the hormones even though it means not buying our Escalade that month.

THEN she has to take fertility pills. Evidently, some women’s bodies decide it’s unfair that the guy sends 87 billion sperm at the 1 egg she sends out every month, so they decide not to send out ANY eggs some months and when they do send somebody out, it’s the ugly, misshapen egg who never seems to get any dates. (Poor spermies… It’s like trying to pick up chicks at a monster truck rally.) So she takes fertility pills, which are supposed to convince the body to send out a few eggs at a time, which you really hope they do, because these pills cost about as much as a Ferrari.

After a couple months with no baby, they decide to do an ultrasound of the ovaries to see if there are any eggs being produced. This is done by inserting a wand into the birth canal and pushing until the doctor can gently stroke the woman’s tonsils with the wand. I’m sure it’s very little fun for the woman on whom it’s being performed, but it REALLY sucks for the guy who has to watch. There are things in life NO guy should ever witness, and watching a doctor insert her arm up to the shoulder inside your wife is DEFINITELY one of them. Also at about this time, they ask the guy to undergo semen analysis. No biggie there. They ask you to bring in a sample in a cup, because evidently a dirty Kleenex contaminates the sample. It’s very odd handing a Tupperware full of ejaculate to a nurse approximately your grandmother’s age. It's also REALLY uncomfortable when the office manager of the urology clinic conducting the test, with whom you must have discussions about your sperm, is your mother-in-law.

Anyway, after about 4 more months of hormones and fertility pills, which do not result in a baby, but very nearly result in divorce on numerous occasions, you start looking for another, more serious, approach.

So you go and talk to “The Fertility Specialist”(reproductive endocrinologist, for all you science nerds). Now you might ask, “Who the hell have you been talking to for the past 6 months?” An OB-GYN, of course! Because there ARE no fertility specialists in Northern Michigan! So you meet with a specialist from Ann Arbor who tells you it’s time for IN VITRO FERTILIZATION (IVF). That’s when they harvest eggs from the woman and inject the man’s sperm into them. I’m not clear on how they harvest the eggs, but I like to imagine a really small grain combine (Think Dennis Quaid in “Inner Space”.) driving around through her ovaries. This procedure makes the cost of fertility drugs seem like pocket change. It’s like being told that you, personally, must now finance the production of the Stealth Bomber. Thankfully, your wife is skeptical, because she's read that there are normally a few steps taken between fertility hormones and IVF. So she arranges to get a second opinion from another fertility specialist in Grand Rapids, and this doc says not to rush things. He feels it’s time for shots.

Now the prospect of my wife getting shots doesn’t really bother me. I actually welcome it, because the shots only cost as much as a regular passenger jet, as opposed to a stealth bomber, and, thankfully, SHE’S the one who’s gonna get poked. But then they hit you with the kicker. The shots must be given AT HOME. AND YOU (the man) ARE GONNA HAVE TO GIVE THEM!

I hate needles. I have a long history of passing out when given shots. And it’s even worse to watch someone else get one. So what do I say to this new plan? Of course I say, “Yes dear.” And so I give her 4 shots in 4 days and I do not pass out once, though I do get light headed and break out in a cold sweat on a couple occasions. And then comes the moment that you thought would be the good part, when you started “trying” months ago.

When you’re young, you don’t think you can ever have enough sex. That is because you’re young and stupid. Sex is great when it’s just for fun, but it turns out that when you’re “trying”, it becomes just a little bit less so. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still great, but it certainly takes away from the spontaneity of the situation. Instead of “Hey there, baby. ::nudge, nudge::” it becomes, “WE HAVE TO GO HOME BECAUSE I’M OVULATING NOW!!!!”

Which leads me to my point.

I’m sore today. My back is killing me. This is a result of “trying”. I hurt my back a little bit while “trying” on Saturday night and then I re-aggravated it golfing yesterday afternoon. Last night, when it was time to “try” again, I knew I had to take one for the team, even though I could hardly move. So I did. And today, I kept having to pause my desk work in order to lie for a moment on the floor. And I’ve decided I need to bitch about it. Anyway, that’s pretty much the whole of it. Thanks for letting me vent.

Laterz