You catch us in the middle of this game, pregnancy. Not a game, though, please no clarifying comments, unless they're funny. Or warnings of portent. Remember--entertainment.
The middle, so we have seen our child, several times by sonogram. So we know he's there. One of the joys of this game, however, is the let's feel him moving. Just makes it so real. Weeks ago I swore to kelly that I had felt him. I now retract that statement, officially and publicly, because she didn't take it too well. She wanted to and by God's rules of engagement, she was by all means entitled to feel it first. I am not lying that I think I felt it, but I am retracting that it happened. I am a lawyer by education.
So yesterday, it's official and public, she felt it. In the morning, a quick flutter, she says, something not the product of involuntary bodily function, but of true human volition, I think. Anyway, I'd like to think my child has achieved a certain level of consciousness and now makes his own moves. His first song, a mozart tune that I forget the K number, but its good music before bed. We'll put in some hip-hop soon to keep him well-rounded.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Roast Trouble
Kelly roasted me when because I was writing this blog, I forgot that the timer on the roast went off. So involved, so involved. I apologized in an weak attempt to make up for lost time. Not too sure if I am forgiven, oh well. Not very relevant to the baby though. Sorry to my readers, blogging is addictive.
Halloween Decoration and Room Standing
Today, after the too-early crib hunt, we continued on with more of our exciting life. And our child, he, came along. First, I completed decorations for the house; in addition to last year's lit skull, purchased from Wal-mart for 4.99, thank you China, the string of lit-up happy jack-o-lanterns and ghosts, decorated the front of our house with window chalk. My first masterpiece, the tombstone inscribed with "RIP Freddie." The next, a ghost "Boo". The next, a skull, with cross-bones. And finally, a jack-o-lantern, meant to be mean and scary.
Today, too, we stood in the soon to be nursery. I have big plans, big ones, ambitious as the Universe. In fact, it is the Universe, at least, the local one. The nursery is meant to depict and give the visitor and our child, him, the illusion of floating or flying in the upper atmosphere of earth above the clouds. I should post the sketch. The room is half sky, light blue and at the chair rail height (yes I watch HGTV, more of my exciting life) clouds, and the other half a darker, nearly midnight blue, meant to be outer space. Then, in closer than life imagery, the planets, the sun, the moon, a cow to jump over it, a rocket, an alien, and the rest of the firmament. Quite dramatic and ambitious. I may not get that far, as there are phases to this should the rest of life prevent me from truly fulfilling this quest.
So today I dragged kelly into the future nursery and we stood there, placing the crib, debating about the changing table and yes talking about how to paint it. How would the clouds work in and transition the sky and space? Yes, we talked about that--we would put cartoon-ish clouds in between the two colors.
Which brings up our differences in philosophy and what every man and woman, probably since adam and eve, have discussed. Kelly doesn't want the nursery too realistic. My dream of a nursery shouldn't be too science-cy. It should have cartoon characters and such. This makes sense to me too as the room is for an infant so I won't put up too much of a fight. For instance, we plan to have the dogs, Rebel and Bowie, depicted in a rocket ship and flying out in space. As we all know, the dogs would have a hard time sticking their head out into a vacuum. So I guess I am saying that if you expect a literal interpretation of space, get over it, I did.
Today, too, we stood in the soon to be nursery. I have big plans, big ones, ambitious as the Universe. In fact, it is the Universe, at least, the local one. The nursery is meant to depict and give the visitor and our child, him, the illusion of floating or flying in the upper atmosphere of earth above the clouds. I should post the sketch. The room is half sky, light blue and at the chair rail height (yes I watch HGTV, more of my exciting life) clouds, and the other half a darker, nearly midnight blue, meant to be outer space. Then, in closer than life imagery, the planets, the sun, the moon, a cow to jump over it, a rocket, an alien, and the rest of the firmament. Quite dramatic and ambitious. I may not get that far, as there are phases to this should the rest of life prevent me from truly fulfilling this quest.
So today I dragged kelly into the future nursery and we stood there, placing the crib, debating about the changing table and yes talking about how to paint it. How would the clouds work in and transition the sky and space? Yes, we talked about that--we would put cartoon-ish clouds in between the two colors.
Which brings up our differences in philosophy and what every man and woman, probably since adam and eve, have discussed. Kelly doesn't want the nursery too realistic. My dream of a nursery shouldn't be too science-cy. It should have cartoon characters and such. This makes sense to me too as the room is for an infant so I won't put up too much of a fight. For instance, we plan to have the dogs, Rebel and Bowie, depicted in a rocket ship and flying out in space. As we all know, the dogs would have a hard time sticking their head out into a vacuum. So I guess I am saying that if you expect a literal interpretation of space, get over it, I did.
Blog's First Day--the Crib Hunt
The first day of this blog, which chronicles our child's early life and his parents' efforts to make his life a good one--look for the book out in 2014--finds us two days before Halloween. I will try to splice humor and insight with the minutia and monotony of a way, traversed by many of you, my readers, and avoided by many others. I can only hope to entertain.
We spent the day, much as yesterday, hunting for baby furniture. Though yesterday found us overwhelmed with the variety of choices and prices as to every aspect of baby care and entertainment, we went to Baby's R Us, today finds us underwhelmed with our choice to seek out a cheap crib. See, we drove twenty miles hunting a crib advertised in San Antonio Current, the same rag that you can find your same sex life mate, if you so desire. We called about the excellent condition item and set up an early 10 am appointment. I predicted, correctly, that we would find an old man. Why? because he made us visit early and could not provide an emailed copy of the crib and changing table. I trucked my wife over to this mapquest in hand. As we pulled up, Kelly exclaimed, "Back up and leave." She thought better and we decided to stay, though we had already decided, not to buy the delipidated item, so coyly called "excellent." From his garage emerged the old man I had previously predicted. A veteran perhaps still used to the bugle call, friendly, shaving a boogie board to smoothness in his homemade laboratory, he met us flipping his head to the crib leaning, in its constituent pieces, against the garage door, as if in the twelve hours since our call, he had blown off cob webs, accounted for most of it and placed it there so that when we drove up, we might make an immediate positive choice. He did not know Kelly. But I did. "So you'll take it," hoping to catch us off guard he said. Kelly explained that we were looking for a crib but wanted to make sure that all the pieces fit, not true, we wanted a way out. He nicely began to assemble the crib, enlisting me, like a sergeant to his troop. I could see how the parts were fitting and he did not listen to me when I said that certain parts fit in a certain order. He came to the conclusion that the crib was broken, "But you can screw this part together easily." At last our way out, Kelly said slyly, "Oh but we're not handy." Internally I protested, I am so handy, but I never wanted to come in the first place, I wanted to go and to move on to our post-crib-visit plan tacos, coffee and a newspaper. "Yeah, I guess you don't want a broken crib; sorry for making you all drive out, " he said scratching his bald head, perplexed. I felt a little sorry because I knew it could be assembled, but between my wife who would never purchase such a rickety scratched-uppity crib and this old man who had made me get up too early for sunday, could not work a digital camera or the internet, and would not listen to save his sale, I was not going to feel too sorry and again could smell the tacos. "OK bye." "Bye." He would later call, telling us that it wasn't broken, but we didn't return the call.
Please continue to read these next days as my posts can only get funnier.
We spent the day, much as yesterday, hunting for baby furniture. Though yesterday found us overwhelmed with the variety of choices and prices as to every aspect of baby care and entertainment, we went to Baby's R Us, today finds us underwhelmed with our choice to seek out a cheap crib. See, we drove twenty miles hunting a crib advertised in San Antonio Current, the same rag that you can find your same sex life mate, if you so desire. We called about the excellent condition item and set up an early 10 am appointment. I predicted, correctly, that we would find an old man. Why? because he made us visit early and could not provide an emailed copy of the crib and changing table. I trucked my wife over to this mapquest in hand. As we pulled up, Kelly exclaimed, "Back up and leave." She thought better and we decided to stay, though we had already decided, not to buy the delipidated item, so coyly called "excellent." From his garage emerged the old man I had previously predicted. A veteran perhaps still used to the bugle call, friendly, shaving a boogie board to smoothness in his homemade laboratory, he met us flipping his head to the crib leaning, in its constituent pieces, against the garage door, as if in the twelve hours since our call, he had blown off cob webs, accounted for most of it and placed it there so that when we drove up, we might make an immediate positive choice. He did not know Kelly. But I did. "So you'll take it," hoping to catch us off guard he said. Kelly explained that we were looking for a crib but wanted to make sure that all the pieces fit, not true, we wanted a way out. He nicely began to assemble the crib, enlisting me, like a sergeant to his troop. I could see how the parts were fitting and he did not listen to me when I said that certain parts fit in a certain order. He came to the conclusion that the crib was broken, "But you can screw this part together easily." At last our way out, Kelly said slyly, "Oh but we're not handy." Internally I protested, I am so handy, but I never wanted to come in the first place, I wanted to go and to move on to our post-crib-visit plan tacos, coffee and a newspaper. "Yeah, I guess you don't want a broken crib; sorry for making you all drive out, " he said scratching his bald head, perplexed. I felt a little sorry because I knew it could be assembled, but between my wife who would never purchase such a rickety scratched-uppity crib and this old man who had made me get up too early for sunday, could not work a digital camera or the internet, and would not listen to save his sale, I was not going to feel too sorry and again could smell the tacos. "OK bye." "Bye." He would later call, telling us that it wasn't broken, but we didn't return the call.
Please continue to read these next days as my posts can only get funnier.
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