I Have Yet To Decide On A Topic For Tonight

I hope I can get this message posted before they shut off my telephone and internet. Tonight my line gets transferred to my new house. Everyone is there but I am taking advantage of the cool night air to do some more moving, The loft is almost empty. Only a few more boxes and this computer remain.

I am not in a hurry though. Family has come to help with the move as my wife, as you know, is pregnant. The house is kind of full and I am enjoying my alone time here.

From the beginning I wanted to keep this blog real. I envisioned writing everything that I thought might help other couples. What I realize now is that while I am honest with what I write, sometimes I must omit certain topics. So tonight I don't have a topic. No advice. No stories. Nothing.

So take from this post what you will. For now I will just stop typing. I still have some moving to do.

So Long Cool Loft Lifestyle

Tonight is my last night in my super-cool, ultra-modern, minimalist-design, 1200 square foot, one room, hardwood floor, 15 foot ceiling loft space. We have begun packing up our two person family and are moving into our first family home. It is both exciting and sad.

So far two people have seen our space. One was quick to point out everything that was cool about our new place, the other had to point out everything that needed paint, had to be plastered and generally was not the way she would have liked it to be even though she still lives at home with her parents and wants to live her life on a boat. I think it is a fantastic find.

All in all tonight is incredibly neutral.

I just wanted to send a quick message before I pack up the computer. So this is it...my last blog from my old house. The next time you will hear from me will be from work or an internet cafe.

We are doing it!!! We are having a baby!!! We are moving into a home!!! We are becoming a family of our own!!!

I Think It Is Time For Some Advice

Tell your wife how beautiful she is. Don't make it up. Don't exaggerate. Just do it. You don't need a reason other than the fact that you love her.

At 19 weeks your wife will probably be showing. Weight gain will have begun and the summer is damn hot making everyone feel sticky. When you see that humidity make her face shine, reflecting the sunny day around you, that is the glow of pregnancy. That is beauty and you should let her know how much you appreciate it because while it seems obvious to us our partners feel big and sweaty.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to listen to my incredibly sexy and beautiful wife's belly for signs of life from Cletus.

Buh-dah-bum Buh-dah-bum Buh-dah-bum

That was what I was hoping to hear with my new Bebe Sounds Prenatal Heart Listener. I didn't hear that. I think I heard the baby moving around. I am also pretty sure I could hear fluid moving around in there too.

Even though I couldn't definitively make out the sound of the heart I think that every penny spent on this item was money well spent. It led to 10 quality minutes of quiet time for my wife and I. We played with her belly (and mine) and shared the sounds of our creation.

So what if we didn't hear the heart on the first try. I know that I will share quality time with my wife many more times until we hear the heartbeat and will continue to do so throughout the pregnancy.

Speaking of quality, or lack thereof, we ate a veggie lasagna that isn't sitting right. I think I am too excited about this new product and I am looking forward to using the monitor to hear what's going on in there. If I come up with any other uses for a prenatal heart listener then I will pass them onto you through this blog.


Edited 10 minutes after original post
After re-reading this message it occurred to me that I should heed the advice provided in yesterdays message. As I am feeling a little gassy it may be wise to change out of my brand name clothes and into something a little more loose fitting and inexpensive. One mistake and I could lose the whole ensemble.

I Found Something Worse Than Maternity Clothes

Baby clothes that are given as gifts at baby showers are stupid. Why a 0-3 month old needs a $34 top and $20 pants is beyond me. $54 for a baby outfit is proof positive that the marketing gurus at The Gap and other similar stores deserve every penny they make. Don't get me wrong, I recognize the difference in quality and love the designs. I believe that these kids will look more beautiful in their brand name duds. My problem is this...on those days when I plan to crap my pants or when I am too lazy to get to the can so I pee my pants at my desk, I choose to not wear my brand name clothes.

Knowing that babies do this everyday, not to mention how quickly they grow out of the clothes we buy them, why don't we just wrap them in paper towel and put the cash into an education fund. Bounty is so absorbent these days that your baby's skin may always be dry and it is better for the environment than disposable diapers.

Good Morning My Love

You are not with me today as you are visiting family. Your absence leaves me feeling alone and empty. I try to read but I am distracted. I try to eat but it is not fun cooking for one. I think about our baby and only want to rub your tummy.

Last night I had a restless sleep. Throughout the night I would reach for you, searching the bed for my human security blanket. You give me comfort with your warmth and presence. I would try to touch my belly to yours but would end up in a silly boomerang position as no belly prevented my efforts.

At first light I woke up and decided that there is nothing here for me without you so I am going to work 2 hours early.

I miss you and Cletus

Have fun and I will see you tonight as I need some rest.

I love you

Love and Hate

Obviously there are more things about pregnancy that I love than things about pregnancy that I hate. I just need to vent about some of those things tonight because it has been too long since I have seen our baby's heart beating. I really am looking forward to our next ultrasound and I am investing in a Doppler heart beat monitor.

Have you ever noticed that just pressing your ear up to your wife's belly is not enough to hear a heartbeat? I see the results of growth inside but I can't see what is happening. I want to be able to see it all. When a newborn child looks uncomfortable or seems to be in a precarious position a parent reacts quickly to rectify whatever the situation may be. As a fetus our baby is hidden by skin and muscle. I want to check up on Cletus and make sure all is okay. I hate waiting for the doctors appointment to have them reassure me that everything is fine. I want to know now.

I hate my wife's inability to sleep on her back. She has never complained about it but every time I lay on mine and stretch out I feel guilty. Books talk about how the wife has to suffer morning sickness, gain weight etc. etc., but they never mention the inability to sleep on one's back.

I hate not having control. I want the pain. I want the weight gain. I want the morning sickness. I want to not be able to sleep on my back. That is my role in this relationship. She is the trophy wife. She is the smart one. She makes the friends. I do the dirty work. If a spider or bat need to be removed from the premises, that is my job. If something even remotely dangerous needs to be done around the house, that is my job. If one of us needs to sacrifice for the other then I like to think that it is my job. Now my job is finished for a while my wife trumps all of my previous efforts with this one great sacrifice.

I hate waiting. I am impatient and want to be a parent today. I want to meet our child.

I hate the price of maternity clothes. Make them with cheaper material and bring the cost down. They are only worn for a short period anyway.

I hate some things for a while but I look at the ponch and get over it quickly. I see the growth and know all is okay. I see my wife and know that she is a willing participant, thrilled to be making this sacrifice. I see the calendar and know that I will soon see the heart beat again at our next ultrasound. I see my wife sleeping on her side, exaggerating the belly that holds our child, and I smile. I see the day when I have to wait know more, the day I meet our baby. I cry.

My Wife Is Trying To Name A Muggle

Well the new Harry Potter book has hit the shelves and I was in need of a copy right away. I have been a fan of the boy wizard since the hype hit the fan with the Philosophers Stone. I play Harry Trivia and own the movies. I attended a boarding school and my imagination takes me there whenever I read about Hogwarts. I needed the book and I couldn't wait for the paperback.

I really wanted the adult version (I don't know why) and it was much harder to find. The Canadian publisher of the Harry Potter series says that there is an unprecedented demand for the adult version this time around and are having to reprint already. I went to 4 stores but finally found a copy. When I am done here with this post I will begin reading my new book. I only wish I had a kid to read it with.

The extra time that I spent looking for the adult version has cost me. My wife had the time to browse and found a new book for herself. You will remember in a previous post how she is on a search, a quest if you will, for the Holy Grail of baby names. Tonight the search continues with our new baby name book 'Beyond Jennifer and Jason, Madison and Montana. Rather than an alphabetical listing this book is broken down into lists of various types of names. Oh the joy!!!

Maybe I can learn a spell in my new book that can help find the perfect name.

Decidanaymum. Decidanaymum. Decidanaymum.

Cankles

I'm sorry. I only meant to step away for a day but it appears that I went missing all weekend. I had every intention of writing every night but I couldn't find either a computer or the time. You see, I was in Montreal last weekend and with all the food and Just for Laugh celebrations I didn't have time to fill you in on my life. I spent the weekend visiting churches, Old Montreal and learning about the cost of room service. I also learned about swollen feet.

Walking, or standing, leads to swollen ankles. While not a major medical malformation, nor a visual monstrosity, swollen ankles can be punishing...for the husband. Sore feet are sore feet and swollen ankles are really just a symptom of sore feet. The problem is that with swollen ankles your wife now has physical evidence of discomfort which must be tended to right away. If the feet are not elevated and the swelling not massaged you run the very real risk of seeing cankles. This is when the swelling totally absorbs the ankle or when there is no longer a separation between calf and ankle. If you let it get this far then you will have to watch her feet for hours on end. Your punishment is dished out every 2 minutes with the phrase, "Look at my ankles". It is sneaky too. It seems so innocent. "Look at my ankles." You don't even know you are in trouble yet. "Look at my ankles". You may even laugh about cankles together. "Look at my ankles". Then, the feet come out, first one, then both laying across your lap.

They say that 5 minutes a day is worth an hour a week. Do it. It is the least you can do.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

You don't really feel any different. Everyday you go about your business in the same manner that you would have before you fertilized an egg but every now and then a subtle change in behaviour rocks you to your core. I don't know if it is maturity or being more responsible but these little decisions are so far away from your normal thought processes that it makes me wonder how many changes I am about to experience. Will I recognize the care-free me when I am through this process?

Last night was the final day of voting on our collective agreement for my employer. As with any contract negotiations there is some positive news and some negative news. In my past I would have turned down this agreement for the sheer fun of it, just to be a little rebellious. Wouldn't it be cool to walk the picket line and sing union songs? I've never done that before. Last night, however, it never crossed my mind to vote the contract down. I defended the contract to any coworkers that would listen. I have a pregnant wife at home and I need this job.

Maybe it is more responsible. I hope that I am not more mature. At my age I will need all the immaturity I can get to keep up with my kids. Either way, these changes in decision making, in lifestyle choices and in life in general, as subtle as they are, really blindside you. I am a different person than I was 16 weeks and 5 days ago. Thankfully my wife still likes the new me. She may even like me better.



P.S. Sorry about the delay in posts. My internet was down.

German Measles and Other Pre-pregnancy Things

If you have the luxury of planning your pregnancy it is advised that you see a doctor who will perform some tests to see if you are a healthy baby-carrier. A full physical, including an internal examination and blood testing, should be performed. What really needs to happen, however, is that the information gleaned from this testing should be relayed back to the patient.

My wife had another round of blood tests today and was informed that on her previous test they found that she is not immune to German measles. Her first blood work, done pre-pregnancy, was completed at another clinic and we were informed that my wife was immune to German Measles. Now we have the pleasure of living for the remaining 24 weeks with an extra worry, albeit a worry with an incredibly small chance of coming to a nightmarish conclusion, of getting German measles and having it affect the baby. This also means that I will be using the internet tonight to learn more about German measles and how to prevent them from destroying our happy pregnancy.

What I recommend to all future mothers and fathers is to create a simple medical binder, nothing fancy but with dates for upcoming medical events, follow-up dates to check in for results, a list for medical terminology you wish to research, photocopies of medical information including health card, blood type, allergies, potential medical complications, updated weight gain and as much relevant medical history as is comfortable to lug around with you.

That is your only advice today. Be responsible for your own medical history. Doctors are too busy to notice everything.

What's In A Name?

I love the name Sophia. It is so soft and elegant. It is the perfect name for a baby girl and would suit our sophisticated daughter as she passes through her teens into her young adult years. Her name will match her level of elegance as she begins a family of her own and gives us grandchildren. Bad news is that our friends had a baby girl first and the name Sophia is off the market.

Good names are hard to come by. They must be fairly original, creative and can't become Dick like Richard does or rhyme with Fart like Bart does. You must also be wary of the name sounding like a female body part such as Deloris (remember Seinfeld?).

Future parents spend endless hours writing endless lists with endless topics. We have lists of trees, animals, countries and people. We have translated all of these lists into Spanish. We have then expanded the lists by naming the various parts of the trees and animal anatomy.

I have chosen two, maybe three names that I like. My wife feels that if she keeps looking that she will find the perfect name, a new name, a name that will become the next big name because it will be the perfect name and she will not stop searching until she is confident that every letter combination possible has been exhausted and until she can confidently declare that the name *%^$#&% is the perfect name because it possesses the 86 qualities deemed most important by the participants of the scientifically designed study created to answer the most often asked question by all future mothers since the beginning of child birth. What should I name my child?

I try to pretend like I understand. I try to be excited about new baby names. The problem is that I have chosen two, maybe three names that I like. Even then, I am up for new suggestions.

What The Hell Were Your Parents Thinking?

Today has been a crazy day. It was the last day of our multicultural celebration SunFest. I remember discrimination and hatred of visible minorities. I remember Pierre Trudeau declaring Canada a Multicultural Nation. We celebrated diversity then and again, all of this weekend, we were able to revel in the wonderful cultures that make up our nation. Trudeau was my first Liberal hero, so much so that I drove to Montreal from Toronto for his funeral.

I have only ever been a Liberal. They are uniters. Regarding the issue of same sex marriage Jean Chretien said that we can not allow the will of the majority to dictate the rights of a minority. His Catholic upbringing could not interfere with his political responsibility to defend the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. But lately, even though they passed the same sex marriage Bill, the Liberals don't seem so Liberal. A local M.P. even quit the party to do whatever he could to quash the Bill.

This brings me to today, and eventually to parenting. Not only was today the final day of SunFest but it was also the final day of London's Gay Pride Festival. Every participant was somebody's child. Some of them were lucky enough to have had accepting families and some did not. The one thing that they all had in common was that today , one day of the year, their sexual orientation was celebrated. It was celebrated by families, by co-workers, by neighbours, by children and by everyday average citizens. It was not, however, celebrated by the Liberals or (snicker, snicker) the Conservatives. It was celebrated by the Green Party and the NDP. What happened to my party? I was sad for my party.

I was also sad for Canada, more specifically for London, as a group 20 neo-Nazis came to town to yell obscenities, degrade parade participants and scream their agenda as loudly as possible. Police did a good job of keeping tensions down, but a group from Toronto did a great job of letting the parade pass without serious conflict.

What shocked me was that these neo-Nazis were all children too. Somebody raised them and for most of them what they heard around the house helped to shape the belief system that they yell through bullhorns, paint on signs and tattoo swastikas on their bodies for. It is insane.

On such a beautiful and sunny day too. Mystical and upbeat music echoing through the trees from the park. A colourful street party to celebrate diversity. Tens of thousands of people, families from out of town, musicians invited from around the world and I am afraid that the story that will be told most often about this city that I now call home is how a group of neo-Nazi skin heads walk around downtown yelling at the citizens. Shame on them. Shame on their parents.

I realize that as I parent I can control very little as my children grow, however, I can control the environment they are raised in, I can control where we as a family live, I can control what comes out of their mouths while they live under my roof and I swear to you on this day that I accept the responsibility of raising my children to know respect, tolerance and peace.

Dancing and Eating All Day

All day Cletus, my wife and I danced and ate at the festival, went for a 5 km walk and basically enjoyed the day together. Now I ma tired and have nothing to say.

My apologies.

The First Salsa Lesson

In London we have a series of festivals that take place throughout the summer at Victoria Park. This weekend is SunFest, four days of music from around the world, great food from many different cultures and artisans and merchants hawking everything from drums to furniture. Our favourite things are the food and music. All weekend long we can enjoy Red Curry Chicken, Kabobs, Roti, Jerk Pork and chicken, Spring Rolls, Papusas, empanadas, Satay, Pad Thai, etc. while listening to fantastic music.

Now I am not sure at what age Cletus will begin to enjoy and learn music but I hope tonight was not to soon. I also hope that when Cletus is really here that he will dance and have fun with music like some of the other kids tonight. What an honest review of the music. And not just the tiny tots either. One kid, around the age of 8 was shaking his hips like he was a world champion hula-hooper. Another kid enjoyed herself too much and for too long and ended up passing out and falling into a lump on her wagon, kind of lying on her face while kind of kneeling at the same time. The kids were everywhere.

While I have enjoyed SunFest every year, this year was my favourite because of the kids. I never noticed how many kids are in this world. I never noticed how many women are pregnant. We are blessed.

Why I Am Looking Forward To Being A Father

My memory is bad. I have virtually no memory earlier than the age of 11. The little pieces that I do have come in the forms of stories or the memories are attached to the photographs of that day. There are a couple of exceptions to my memory loss and most have to do with my Dad and hockey and I am not really sure one of these stories ever happened. I don't know why but they make me want to be a Dad myself.

I grew up playing hockey. I liked to think that I was competitive, a future NHL star but in reality I couldn't stop. Really. I was unable to skate down the ice and turn my feet creating enough friction to slow my momentum before ramming into the boards at the end of the ice. I blame the fact that I couldn't stop on my father buying me Micron Mascot plastic moulded hockey skates. One day my dad took me to the rink to learn how to stop. No practice with the team. No friends. Just a dad and his son learning how to stop. That is being a dad

I remember another time when my slap and wrist shot needed some help. The other kids were growing muscle and were learning how to use them. I was a bean pole and had trouble lifting the puck off the ice. Dad took me down to the church basement and took the time to teach me how to shoot the puck properly. I want to teach my kids the same thing but until then I have to practice my perfected slap shot with my dog who loves to retrieve everything I shoot.

He even went so far as to build a rink in the back yard. How Canadian can you get? During one particularly fun day out back I had a friend skate over my face and cut the inside of my mouth. Blood was everywhere and my dad came skating over in his circa 1970's tube skates. He picked me up and was helping me inside. I remember thinking to myself that it was funny that he was trying to catch all of my blood in his leather glove. Now I look back at the same story and realize that he wasn't trying to save my blood or that it was even serving a purpose. He was catching my blood because I was his son. No other reason.

What is funny is that I don't think a dad will ever know which moments will mean the most to the child, the same way I don't know which moments meant the most to my father.

Baby Signs Look Like Fun

I'm not sure if you can tell yet but I am really excited about being a Dad. I can't wait for the baby to get here. Sometimes I look at other babies and think to myself when does the fun begin? They all seem to sleep, eat, poop, sleep etc. How long do I have to wait before I start climbing trees with them? When do we watch them play sports? When can I first have my first real conversation with my child?

In Meet The Folkers Robert Deniro plays an obsessive grandfather who has taught his grandson how to use sign language before he can speak. It was cute and funny, but was it real? Then while perusing the local Chapters bookstore I came across the book Baby Signs and read the whole thing from cover to cover while sitting in the store (I never did have to buy the book). I was hooked on the idea of teaching our kid how to sign. How hard could it be? So now I am impatiently waiting for the opportunity to sign with my child but Cletus is taking his/her time and refuses to develop any more quickly.

(Whispering to my wife's belly) "Really Cletus, those 'other' kids need 9 months to develop but you are soooo much better than them. I am sure you can complete your development in 6 months and we can be signing with each other by the end of the year. I have a lot to share with you my child."

More About Us...Way More

My wife and I decided to begin our journey down the birth canal early in the year. We quit smoking and started taking folic acid. We also started tracking my wife's cycle religiously. By the first day of my wife's last period I knew exactly what I needed to do and exactly when to do it. I guess all of the 5 W's apply (who to do, what to do, where, when and why).

My wife is a researcher by profession and tracking results is a favourite past time for her. We measured basal temperature every morning before she woke up. I would roll over, grab the thermometer and say grumble 'basal'. She would then automatically open her mouth to begin her day. Another method is the pee test which looks incredibly like a pregnancy test but are more expensive. If you had entered our home while we were measuring hormone levels in her urine you would have thought we both suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder and were compelled to do a home pregnancy test every second day.

Now this is where I begin to share too much. We also learned that another ovulation predictor is a saliva test. You need to spit on a small re-usable microscope and as it dries the hormones will crystallize. Well we own our own microscope so before the end of the day it was set up and we were testing her saliva. All results were meticulously recorded and the microscope slides were saved.

After all of this research we were sure that my wife was fertile and we could predict ovulation within a matter of hours. Problem was that it was now March and we were not yet pregnant. Could the problem be me? Could my little soldiers refuse to march? It was a frightening thought and I was dying to know the answer. So I pulled out a fresh slide and used the microscope myself. I was so happy to see what I saw. I called my wife over and she excitedly said "Look at them. They look frantic. Oh my gosh, they are all looking for me!!!"

The first day of her last period was March 22nd. Our due date is December 27th and Cletus the Fetus is now 15 weeks and 2 days old.

Looking back at this message I am reminded of the expression 'don't kiss and tell'. Now look at me.

I Couldn't Help Myself...And You Are To Blame!!!

I started this blog for myself, so I could remember everything and be a part of it all. After the first couple of posts I mentioned it to some friends and one of you responded. Then I told some family members and they were printing off the pages every day to share with my grandmother. Responses from family and co-workers made this more fun.

Instead of keeping it to myself I was looking forward to hearing from people, not just people I knew, but from total strangers. I wanted to think that some of what I had to type might mean something to someone.

While shopping at Motherhood Maternity again tonight (I am going to go broke before the baby gets here) I wanted to put a sign on the door telling people about my blog so more people would read it. It occurred to me then that I should post some messages on the websites that I have been frequenting. That said, if you are here from www.babycentre.co.uk or www.babycenter.com then welcome.

I would appreciate it if you would send a brief note, your thoughts, location, children, anything. Post what you want and know that it will be so appreciated.

The same can be said for those of you who have posted messages or emailed so far, for it is you that I blame for this addiction.

The Empress Wears New Clothes

We once lived near an island in B.C. that was well known for marijuana cultivation. The only way to access the island was by the ferry. As there were no banks or places to buy alcohol on the island and a round trip would take a few hours, police were seldom seen and the 'farmers' could go about their work without worry. Besides, they had a early-warning system in place. As the police were waiting for the ferry a phone call would be made to a few people, who would contact a few more people who each would contact some more people. These 'farmers' would casually walk out of their crops and be home free long before the police arrived.

Pregnant ladies have the same system and it can cost a fortune. As soon as a sale is located in one of the many maternity clothing departments in the city a code red alert is passed from pregnant woman to pregnant woman. Like locusts swarming across the prairies, these hordes can strip a section of store in a matter of hours. It appears to the uninitiated that the ruins left behind are devastating to the long term success of the business, however, new life soon replaces the barren landscape. As a pine cone uses the forest fire to open itself and disperse its seed to create the next generation of pine tree, so to does the maternity section. New fashions, new styles and higher prices mean increased revenue for the business owner. Not all pregnant woman can take advantage of the savings during the swarm and those left behind must shell out the cash to keep from being naked after busting out of their ever shrinking clothes. Such is the business cycle of life.

Juice, eggs and whole wheat bread

Eggs are good. I have always enjoyed eggs. Sunny-side up, over easy, poached scrambled and now even fertilized. I have even had the pleasure of enjoying a hard boiled ostrich egg. I ate eggs in the past and I continue to eat them today. That is the only consistent thing on the daily menu. Everything is healthy now. Everything has colour. I had forgotten that some so called foods were green, or red or orange. I like my meat pink and my potatoes starchy, dripping with butter.

It used to be coffee and tea in the morning for breakfast, but apparently Cletus the fetus doesn't like caffeine and would prefer fresh fruit juices instead. So everyday I get up and peel, de-pit, core or otherwise prepare fresh fruit to throw into the blender for an assortment, a cornucopia if you will, of fresh fruit juices. Today was pineapple, plum, tangerine and orange. Last week I did a juice with fresh cherries and peaches.

What I think is the most difficult to digest is the foods that used to be white, but now because we are pregnant have turned brown. Bread and rice. What happened to Wonder Bread? Most of Canada grew up on the stuff. It was good enough for us then, but then again so was standing on the front seat of the salmon pink station wagon with wood siding as it was barreling down the 401. And I don't really like rice in any colour, but at least when it was white it was uniform. What I mean is that every grain looked the same, the texture was the same and it all took the same amount of time to cook. When a staple like rice needs a recipe to prepare it should be substituted for a staple like potato. Boil, eat, digest. And I don't believe people actually enjoy long grain and wild rice. I believe that they think it is cool to be 'all natural'. These are the same people who think that Ayn Rand's We The Living was a great book. They choose to suffer for the sake of suffering, or to prove their so called depth by pretending to enjoy suffering. Wild Rice Sucks. Why do people pretend otherwise?

I am having peanut butter and jam on WHITE wonderbread for lunch today.