Daughter

our own miracle
eyes reveal the face of God
welcome little one

Screams In The Night - A Hospital Story

It's approaching 4:00 am as I type. I was trying to get some sleep before the birth of our first child later today.

It's funny how the blood-curdling screams of a woman giving birth down the hall can stir a man's slumber. And by funny, I mean troubling. Holy shit, that woman is in PAIN! I hope she gets some good drugs for her trouble...or at least a grateful child.

I'm really not sure how Sarah is going to react to child birth. I hope it's better than that poor soul down the corridor.

Sarah was trying to get some sleep, too. I just got her iPod out of her bag for her. I think she's trying to block out the wailer. Smart move. For Sarah, it's like looking into the future. Why would she want to hear that?

I'm taking longer blinks now. My focus is gone. It's time to wrap up the rambling...for now.

Later today, we welcome our first child into the world. Stay tuned...

Rub-A-Dub-Dub, I Went To War With The Tub

This morning started like most mornings. The alarm went off...I hit the snooze button. The alarm went off again...I cursed the morning, did a quick internal tally of how much vacation I had left (vacation is the precious and we must hoards the precious!), and begrudgingly removed myself from my warm and cozy bed.

I stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping that it would help shake off the cobwebs. While in the shower, I quickly realized that something was amiss. The water level...it was rising.

'That's peculiar,' I thought. 'Why the hell is the water not draining?'

I knelt down for a closer inspection. Yes...there was definitely more water there than there should have been. I toggled the lever that closes the drain in case you want to take a bath. Nope...this water isn't going anywhere. 'Crap.'

By then, I was wide awake. My mind was racing with the possible reasons the drain would be clogged. I came up with two finalists.

1) The drain is clogged with hair from when I gave Harry (our Canis familiaris) a bath in said tub.
2) The water in the trap has frozen.

#2 really frightened me. The plumbing for the tub is accessible via an access panel on the side of my house. However, I usually can't get the panel off when the ground is frozen and I didn't really like the prospect of climbing under my house in the sub-zero conditions.

I got ready for the day, went to work for about 4 hours, and then made a mad dash to Home Depot. One of my more fortuitous purchases was a drain auger. If the issue is a clogged, this is the tool to have. Even if it's not I figured, why not have one? I'm all about having the right tools for the job.

I came home, kissed my wife, changed clothes, and mentally prepared myself for operating outside on the ice planet of Hoth.

First things first...let's check the tub. The water from my shower this morning was still there, and it was COLD. 'Not good,' I thought. That certainly makes me lean toward "frozen trap."

I went out to the garage to get a submersible pump and a length of hose. I pumped the water from the tub out the window and into the yard. After draining the tub as best I could, I went to work with the drain auger. And then...

'Dear God...did someone shove a Wookiee into this drain?' I pulled out a big, nasty (slimy) mass of hair. I felt like Mike Rowe and the Dirty Jobs camera crew should have been with me.

A few minutes later, I noticed that the water level had dropped in the drain. I cautiously turned on the water to see if I had good flow. Indeed, I did. I turned the hot water all the way up and let it run for about 5 to 7 minutes. It flowed like a dream. I won! I beat the tub! And most importantly, I didn't have to freeze my ass off outside.

I am not the handiest of men, but I'm learning. I wish there was some lesson here...some moral. I can't really think of one right now.

I'm just grateful to be inside.

I've Been Really Tryin', Baby

Approaching the end of Week 39 in our pregnancy, this morning we went for our weekly visit to the OB. Like any medical office, music could be heard softly emanating from the speakers in the ceiling. You know the deal...they find the most non-offensive station on the dial and let it fade into the background.

The universe is a funny place. Sometimes the pieces align just right and, if you're lucky, you get to peer behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of something miraculous. Other times, those same pieces create a view that's more akin to a cosmic joke-of-the-day. Today was the latter.

Maybe it's because I used to work in radio, but I just can't help noticing music that's meant to blend in. Which brings me back to this morning's OB appointment. As the nurse practitioner determined how far my wife had dilated since last week, I took pause, raised an eyebrow, and chuckled inwardly as I realized what song was quietly drifting from the ceiling. I didn't say a word. I decided to put it in my pocket and save it for later.

This evening, I asked my wife if she could recall what song was playing as she was being examined this morning. She sighed through a "Yeah, I think I do."

It seems that she noticed, too.

"What was it?," I asked with a knowing smile.

Dryly she answered, "Let's Get It On."

Two More Stars Gone

Patrick McGoohan & Ricardo Montalban have died.

Patrick McGoohan , if you remember, was most famously remembered as Number Six on the 1960's TV show 'The Prisoner.' He also portrayed (masterfully, I might add) King Edward "the Longshanks" in Braveheart.

Ricardo Montalban played Mr. Roarke on 'Fantasy Island.' but he'll always be Khan to me.

Fare thee well, gentlemen.

Have You Seen My Weekend?

Sunday January 11th...approaching 10:00 pm. How the hell did that happen?

So much yet to do...

Sixth Grade Lunch

Sixth graders can be rather 'spazzy.' In other news, the sky is blue and the Earth is still round.

Seriously, though...I had the opportunity to eat lunch with my wife at school today. The sixth grade Christmas party was canceled due to a winter storm and was rescheduled for today. My wife, one of the sixth grade teachers, invited me to join the party. I rarely get to spend time with her during the day, so I jumped at the chance.

It was a decent menu. I dined on Funyuns and a Torpedo from La Gondola (or as I like to call it, the poor man's Avanti's). Oh yes, the ever-present Diet Dr. Pepper was also involved.

Which brings me back to my opening statement...Sixth graders can be rather 'spazzy.'

I heard things today that would turn the stomach of even the most dedicated Jackass fan.

Things like, "I once threw up a Skittle, caught it in my mouth, and ate it again." I'd like to be clear...this comment was from a female. Classic.

I witnessed a boy drinking Dr. Pepper from a 2-Liter bottle. His mom thought he needed to bring a drink to share with the class, but he only needed to provide for himself. My wife offered him a cup. Apparently, he didn't need one.

The little Dr. Pepper fan was a funny kid, though. I was surprised how smart and witty sixth graders can be.

I was equally shocked at how disgusting they could be, too. The worst offenders were a trio of girls sitting in the back of the room on the floor. And yes, the girl from the Skittle quote was a member. I'm pretty sure she took most of the Funyuns. The cacophony of noises coming from that girl was disturbing...and my wife barely batted an eye. How does one get used to this kind of barbarism? Perhaps I don't really want to know the answer to that questions.

At one point, my wife did step in to quiet them. Soon after, a boy in the front row let out a loud (yet impressive) belch. A few seconds went by with no sign of remorse from the boy. He eventually did say "excuse me"...after being prompted to do so, of course.

I was conflicted on whether or not I should be amused by this behavior. On one hand, I don't want to seem like I was encouraging it. I want to appear to be a responsible adult...a good role model. On the other hand, the rapid escape of audible gaseous emanations from the body is often pretty damn funny.

So, after chuckling a little, I tried to largely ignore it and went back to my Torpedo.

Luckily, lunch doesn't last that long in sixth grade.

Why I'm Not a Teacher

Could extended proximity to educators increase your chances of becoming one?

If so, I dodged a rather large and possibly snot encrusted bullet. Don't get me wrong. I like kids. We're having one. I like teachers. My mother, sister, wife, AND mother-in-law are all...you guessed it...teachers.

It's a noble profession and I admire most anyone that gives it a try. It seems to be getting more difficult, though.

You see, at some point, the parents turned on the teachers. It's not like the old days when you got in trouble at school. In the old days, getting in trouble at school was just Phase One (depending on the severity of the offense, of course). If your transgressions were bad enough, your house got that dreaded phone call from the office. Phase Two would commence immediately after you got both feet in the door.

Hello ass-chewin'...and possibly ass-beatin'*. (*Remember kids, violence isn't the answer...it's just part of the answer.)

One day, parents started to believe their delusions that 'Little Billy' or 'Little Sally' couldn't have possibly:
a) used that kind of language.
b) been that disrespectful.
c) forgotten to do his/her homework (again!).
d) been that stupid.
e) tried to smuggle thermonuclear weapons into the classroom.

Guess what mom and dad? He/she did...and no amount of denial will ever change that.

This is why I'm not a teacher. I simply do not have the capacity to deal with that brand of stupid in a politically correct manner. I would probably shoot my mouth off with some smartass comment and get fired or punched...or both.

2009 : The Year It All Changes...

...and there ain't go goin' back, as they say.

It has recently occurred to me that there is a bit of duality in the name of this blog. On one hand, it represents me as a fledgling blogger.

On the other, my wife and I will quite literally have an extra voice around the house very soon. You see, my wife is very (and I mean VERY) pregnant with our little girl. Her due date is January 19th, which has been something of an intangible concept to me...until now.

Our first child is no longer coming in 8 months.
Our first child is no longer coming in 4 months.
Our first child is no longer coming in 1 month.

Our first child is coming THIS month. In just a few short weeks, we'll be new parents.

This concept is staggering, although it should come as no surprise. We've been preparing for her arrival, both environmentally and mentally, since confirmation of her pregnancy.

It's not just about us anymore, which scares the bejesus out of me. We are responsible for a life. Am I ready? This question has been moot for about 9 months already. Ready or not, here she comes. My wife believes that I will be a 'great daddy.' I believe it, too...or rather, I believe that I have the capacity to be a great father. I just have to properly execute...whatever that means.

I wonder if raising a dog will help me at all...