Diaper Houdini

When I was little, I had a bad habit of removing my diapers and running around naked.  Nobody is exactly sure how I managed to get out of my diapers, but it could have had something to do with my beer belly and skinny legs.  Either way, my parents would come around the corner and find an empty diaper laying on the floor and groan.  “Red alert!  We’ve got a runner…naked baby on the loose!”  And then the chase would begin.

My wife is concerned that these are the kinds of genes that I’ll be passing on to the baby.  Forget all of the other great qualities I have.  Nope, she’s concerned about the baby becoming a diaper escape artist like his father before him.  Honestly, when we don’t have guests staying with us, I can still often be found running around the house naked.  Some people were not made for clothes!

International Little Man of Mystery

Today, we had to drive to Houston to get my wife’s Greek passport renewed.  While we were there, my wife mentioned to the lady at the consulate that we were pregnant, and the lady told us that due to the fact that my wife is Greek and I’m American, the baby can actually be a dual citizen of both countries.  All we have to do is register him with the consulate after he’s born, and they’ll issue him a Greek passport. 

This means that he’ll have two passports with official little passport photos and everything…just like a spy!  He’ll be our international little man of mystery; wearing tuxedo onesies, ordering milk martinis with a twist of lime, and leaving a whole string of love-sick toddlers at daycares all over the world!

Cravings

When your wife is pregnant, they always warn you that she’ll develop cravings for foods or food combinations.  Sometimes it’s weird stuff like pickles and ice cream, sometimes it’s out-of-character items like Lemon-Berry Slushes from Sonic.  My wife went the semi-out-of-character route.  For a week now, she has been craving donut holes.  Donuts are usually a luxury item in our house, as we only get them once every couple of months.  This makes the eating of them that much more special and memorable.  But much to my eternal shame and growing fatness, I will admit that I am the one that always suggests when it’s time to treat ourselves again.  So, for my wife to be talking about donuts for three days straight is out of character for her.

So, this morning, I got up early, threw on some warm clothes, tried to smooth down the cowlick in the back of my hair (which decided to go rogue and stick up anyway), and trekked down to Terry’s Donuts.  I got one donut for my mom and a bag of donut holes for my wife.  The elation on my wife’s face when she saw the bag was priceless and totally worth the effort.  I have never seen her so excited about anything in my life.  She didn’t even wait 10 seconds before she was already dipping her hand into the bag and grabbing one of the warm, sugar-covered balls and popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes closed as her jaw slowly chewed and savored the tiny morsel.  A satisfied moan escaped her closed lips, and a contented smile crept across her face.  When the moment was over, she slowly opened her shining eyes and smiled at me.  She kissed me on the cheek, a sugary kiss, and said into my ear, “You are the sweetest man in the world.”  And it was all worth it.

Nursery Blues

I took this week off to finally work on the nursery, and so far, it’s been one disaster after another.  My mother came up to help me, since I’m overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, but I feel as if her trip might very-well have been a waste of time.  My wife and I can’t come to an agreement on the design.  This will come as no shock to anyone that knows us, because we can’t agree on anything design and fashion-related.  I acquiesced to her desire to have the theme be a magical kingdom, but instead of something simple, she wants me to go all Thomas Kinkade and paint this elaborate forest scene on the walls!  Now, while I might be artistically-inclined, I am not a painter.  I actually loathe painting.  Despite that, the ask is well beyond my limited abilities.

So, I have been agonizing over the design for days now.  I have been looking up variations.  I have changing and rearranging sketches on paper and in my head every day.  My biggest roadblock is that the design, while definitely cool, doesn’t really say “baby” to me.  It’s far too adult and not enough kid.  So, I’m trying to figure out how to appease my wife and baby it down a little.  An idea came to me today to get inspiration from the 1977 version of The Hobbit, which was an animated adaption of the story.  I’m not sure why exactly that remnant from my childhood came to mind at this precise moment, but it did.  I’m also not sure why that remnant of memory should be in my head at all, since it came out before I was even born!  So, we shall see.  Based on the current way things are going, I’ll probably end up changing the design again tomorrow.

The other issue that happened to put a wrench in my plans was that my mother brought a little projector with her.  The thought was that we would use it to project images on the wall and then sketch them to make it easier.  However, the projector only projects images off paper, whereas I thought it plugged into a computer.  Not a deal breaker, but just an added complication to print the pictures first.  So, when we went to print the pictures today, I found out that our printer has no ink.  The wonderful ink plan that we purchased has failed to send us any ink, and now when we need it most, we find ourselves dry.  I don’t want to go buy ink, because I feel like I’ll be double-purchasing it.  So, I did the only logical, sensible thing that someone in my position could do.  I got onto to Amazon, and I bought another projector.  The funny thing is that it was still probably cheaper than buying ink!

So, while we wait for the projector to arrive, my wife and I will continue to fight about the design.  And I will watch yet another day go by without any progress at all.  This is like a prawn-flavored crisp!

Sharing Dinner

Today, my wife informed me that she was reading in her book that the baby is now getting his nutrients from eating the amniotic fluid.  Apparently, everything she eats trickles down into the ever-replenishing fluid, and he ends up eating the same thing.  I guess that’s why they say that babies get fussy when the mother eats spicy food, because he’s getting it too. 

The moment I found out that he’s sharing her meals, I grabbed the box of feta cheese and handed it to her.  She looked at me oddly and asked, “What’s that for?”  I replied, “I wanted to start him off on the right foot.”  My wife’s puzzled look turned instantly into a smile, followed by a hardy laugh.  “You are a goofy man, but I love you.”

Mosquitos

For some strange reason, my wife has become a mosquito magnet lately.  At first, I thought she was just being paranoid about hearing them in her sleep or catching them stalking her out of the corner of her eyes.  But then I saw two mosquitos fly right by me and head straight for her, which wasn’t nearly as amusing to her as it was to me.  That’s when I knew something was up, because those little blighters usually love them some me with a side of me!

Well, according to the baby book, pregnant women do actually attract more mosquitos.  It has to do with an increase in blood obviously, but also to breathing and body temperature.  Pregnant women tend to breath more, because they are carrying extra weight.  Mosquitos are attracted to carbon dioxide, so the more you breath, the more you’re signaling “Tasty snack this way!”  Pregnant women also have a warmer average body temperature, which is a cue to mosquitos to land and chow down.

So, now I’m on mosquito patrol.  I have to frequently do a walk-through of the house to make sure one didn’t sneak in an open door.  And I have to drop everything and go into hunter mode if she even suspects that one might be stalking her.  Yes, there will be a wailing from the mosquito houses this night!

The Deal

Years ago, when we first started talking about having a baby, I confessed to my wife that my biggest fear about babies is changing diapers.  I just didn’t think I could deal with the smell and consistency of fecal matter on a regular basis.  My wife decided to make me a deal.  If I would deal with all of the throw-up, then she would deal with all of the diapers.  Doing the quick calculations in my head of how many times I would be called into action versus how many times she would, I quickly took the deal, and we shook on it.

Well today, my wife informed me that she was reneging on our deal.  Apparently, one of her stupid friends opened her eyes to the same math that I had done in my head years ago, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such an attractive proposition to my wife.  I tried to argue profusely that a deal was a deal, but she simply said that it was her word against mine and next time I should get it in writing.  I’m definitely getting the hazmat suit now.

The Mother-In-Law Suite

Most nights, I have taken to sleeping in the mother-in-law suite on the other side of the house.  It’s partly due to the fact that my wife’s snoring has increased in frequency and volume since she’s been pregnant.  It’s partly due to the fact that she has insomnia at random times during the night and will wake up, get restless, flounder around the bed, and then end up reading on her Kindle or watching a movie on Netflix on her phone.  And it’s partly due to the fact that she has been complaining that I’m making the bed too hot and that my peaceful slumbers, which might result in the occasional eating or soft purring (although none of this has been verified), are annoying her.  So, for both of our sakes to receive a peaceful night’s sleep, I have vacated the premises and allowed her to sprawl over the entirety of the king-sized bed.

Buy, Buy Baby

Today, we decided to venture out into the land of baby apparel and start our first registry.  Thinking that we could address a lot of needs at once, we went to Buy, Buy Baby.  If you’ve never been there, it’s like the Bed, Bath, and Beyond of baby stuff.  Needless to say, I was not prepared for the inundation of stuff and information that was about to be thrown in my general direction!

We trolled every aisle, every rack, and every shelf for over four hours…bleeping our little registry gun at barcode after barcode.  My wife had to quit partway through and take a seat because her back was starting to hurt.  In hindsight, we probably should have paced ourselves and done it across several visits.  But it’s done now, and we have a good start on a list.  I’m sure that we’ll continue to think of new things to add, but at least those are one-offs instead of the foundation.

And now we can focus on registering at other places to add some variety and give people some pricing options.  My friend CC was telling me about BabyList.com, where you can have all of your registries in a single place, so maybe we’ll check that out.

Carpooling

Since we found out that we had a croissant baking in the oven (that’s right a croissant, not a bun, because that’s how we roll!), my wife and I have started carpooling together.  Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I have started driving her to work while she sleeps in the passenger seat.  The initial impetus for this was that she needed to stay calm and destressed so as not to upset the baking process. 

Then, as the months rolled by and my wife was in less and less danger, it just became a routine.  She enjoyed not having to fight the traffic and getting an extra hour-long nap every day.  Honestly, it’s harder on me, because I essentially have to drive an extra hour out of my way every morning and every evening, but it’s nice to see her be able to get some rest.  Although I’m not so sure that she’s staying calm and destressing with my aggressive approach to traffic, which is probably why she sleeps so much!

Pillow Thief

While I was at my conference last week, my wife decided to steal my pillows.  I came home to find them missing from their usual spot and located them nestled up on her side of the bed.  When I inquired about the alleged thievery that had taken place, she batted her eyelashes at me and simply said, “Baaabbbyyy, I was having trouble getting comfortable, and your pillow combination was perfect.  I have never slept so well.” 

Realizing that there was no way I could ask my pregnant wife for them back now, I asked, “Okay, and what am I supposed to do now?  I have no pillows.” 

She simply said, “There are some used ones in the closet, maybe you can get one of those.”

By “used” pillows, she means the broken-down-stuffing-has-been-equally-distributed-to-each-corner-of-the-pillow-no-longer-provides-any-support-whatsoever-probably-stinks-not-sure-why-we-even-kept-them pillows that have been banished to the top of the closet in cases of extreme emergencies.  And that is exactly where I now find myself…in a case of extreme emergency, constantly having to re-fluff and redistribute my used pillow into something that vaguely resembles a usable head and neck support, while failing miserably and waking up each day with a crick.

My pillow is so flat that I feel like I’m just sleeping on a pillow case.  My neck is situated at such a weird angle that I look like I’m trying to listen to my shoulder.  Which if it could take would probably be asking, “What happened to the other perfectly-fluffed pillow that you had that supported us all perfectly and kept your ear the exact right distance away from me?!”  Touche, talking shoulder…touche.

What's in a Name?

After reducing the possibility of the baby’s gender by 50%, the next logical decision is the name to bestow upon him.  This is a paramount decision, because it’s not only the thing that defines his existence to everyone around him, but it’s something he’s stuck with for the rest of his life.  Screw it up, and he’ll resent you (just ask my brother)…nail it, and he’ll applaud you (just ask me). 

I have been toying with names since I was in high school.  Every time I came up with a name that I was confident about, someone else in my family named their child that.  Since I am determined for my child to have a unique name that has not been used in my family before, I immediately threw out the “used” name and went back to the drawing board.  And now that we are finally having a baby, I can rest assured that his name will be unique…or at least the first in the family.

The last hurdle was to get it past my wife.  She has very definite ideas about names, her culture, and her family’s legacy.  So, I decided to focus on adding a Greek aspect to the naming process as a tribute to her heritage.  But I also wanted God to be a part of it in some way, since He has been a part of it in every way.  Using all of this as my criteria, I proposed, and magically managed to get accepted, the name of Troy Aegis. 

Troy was the fabled city in the Illiad where Achilles (my favorite Greek hero) met his untimely demise at the hands of Paris.  At the time, it represented an impenetrable fortress with strong walls that had never been breached.  I wanted that strength to flow into my son.  Consequently, the name also means “curly-haired,” which seems entirely possibly based on his mother.

Aegis means the shield of God.  It is commonly used to describe a protector or guardian.  I want my son to know that God’s protection will always be upon him.  In addition, Ephesians 6:16 describes the aegis with these words, “In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.”  I always had faith that God would bless us with a child, and I want faith to be the core of my son’s life as well.  I want to teach him how to have faith, and I want to be an example of putting it into practice.  Consequently, the name also means “thunderstorm,” which let’s just be honest is…awesome!

Gender Reveal

We went to the doctor today to do an anatomy test on the baby.  Essentially, this is a way for them to ensure there is nothing visibly wrong with the baby’s brain, heart, and bones.  They were able to see the little legs, feet, and hands.  And when the baby turned toward my wife’s front, they were able to see its facial features; eyes, nose, ears…right down to the lip, which isn’t cleft.

It was all pretty cool, the way the colors on the screen show different density of mass, so they can differentiate bone from tissue.  But while the nurse was moving the sonogram wand around to different angles, she paused and snapped a picture of one particular pose.  I asked her what she was looking at, and she replied, “Well, I appear to be looking at a boy.”  She pointed to a very distinct mass sticking up away from the baby’s body.  She said, “Boys tend to be very proud of their stuff, even at an early age,” which was exactly how I would have described it as well…pride.  But I say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it…which takes on a whole new meaning when you’re looking at a baby on a sonogram.

We’re going to do a chromosome test to confirm it, but I guess we’re having a boy!  My wife’s first words to the nurse when she told us was, “I can’t believe this.  I can’t believe my husband was right all along.  He’s never going to let me live this down.”

First Souvenirs

Today, I got back from a work conference in Las Vegas, where I had been all week.  As is my custom when I have to be away from home, I always try to pick up something for my wife.  It’s usually a large coffee mug with some unique design from the place I’m visiting, since she collects them.  But this trip, I wanted to get something else for the baby as well.  Something small, but something to let it know that I was thinking about it, even as it slept comfortably in its mother’s belly.  So, I found some funny baby bibs that also had “Las Vegas” scrolled across the bottom, almost as an after-thought.  They were perfect, because they were small and light-weight, so they wouldn’t take up a lot of room in my carry-on.  The first one said, “These Fools Put My Cape on Backwards.”  The second one said, “Spit Happens.”