Hello! This is where I'm posting my thoughts and experiences about things....all the things. I will be sharing the random thoughts that pop into my head. Some are deep, some are dumb. It's up to others to figure out which is which.
Holy shit am I tired. I needed to give you a disclaimer. There it is. So evidently Russia is fucking excited for me to rip the shit out of them. How do I know this? Because my shit has been lit up by the Russia twice this week. That's right, it's so exciting that it drew me out of my fortress of shit and diapers, just so that I could write more. What was I going to rip on Russia for? Raccoon sex. Unfortunately, I lost the link that had the article. From what I could tell though, it sounded like Russians were having sex with and/or around a bunch of raccoons, and the raccoons were not prepared. There was talk about PTSD, rabies, babies, and other sexually transmitted things.
Now of course, my wife showed me the article and I immediately start to laugh. After all, Russia is known for vodka, Communism, and the color grey. that and 80-year-old grandmothers competing in caber-toss. Of course the Russians would think, "What is good animal for new sex? I know, I use trash panda. It even wear grey coat. It will be like furry midget." Now before you bitch and moan, yes I know that midget is not politically correct. You know what else is not politically correct? Fucking a goddamn raccoon. The article even showed a raccoon in a tree, laying there like it needed a cigarette.
Speaking of cigarettes, I still haven't smoked my victory cigar to celebrate my kid existing. I need to smoke two because he finally learned how to nurse. I may smoke a third, simply to insure that I have developed a chemical dependency. I joke. I have enough caffeine in my system to replicate cocaine. I don't need shit else in my system.
I am becoming an advocate for aggressive hugging. I started recently, but the idea has been around for at least 15-ish years. As an ornery child (which I always pronounce as awnry), my folks would sometimes hug me. They always said it was that, or choke me. I didn't know what that meant until I was changing my son, and he literally shat as I was securing the new diaper. And not a simple little poo. His goddamn butt exploded. It looked like a mustard bottle died in his diaper. It was violent. He literally started fighting with the poo-poo. My son started kicking and punching like, "Fuck you bowels, I command you to move!" I ducked for cover and prayed.
I got him changed (again), and my son started screaming bloody murder. At that moment I held him tight. I figured it was safer than covering his mouth and nose. I took this same approach in Krav Maga. As it turned out, we learned bear hugs and chokes. When it came time to fight, I naturally rolled my shirt into a mid-drift and started aggressively hugging them. I would calmly squat down, point, and yell "I'MMA HUG YOU!!!!! 'MERE!!!" Evidently people don't like that. The irony is that, in fighting the hug, I would then start to choke them out. One person I fought had a knack for always putting themselves into a headlock. I wouldn't even try.
On a different note, my son has gotten into a habit of wanting to sleep on either my wife or myself. Now I understand part of this. In theory, our heart rates help him sleep, and our body temperatures help him to regulate his own temp. At the same time, it is incredibly awkward when we do. With my wife, he is likely to maneuver himself into a nursing position. With me, he shimmies up my body until he is laying across my through. It is like he wants to choke me out, but can't, so he just lays there instead.
Moral of the Story: My son is an awkward sleeper, I'm an aggressive hugger, and Russians like to molest trash pandas.
Holy shit, I'm a father. I am a legitimate Baby Daddy now. I am literally Big Papa. I have wanted to update this shit for two weeks. And do you know why I haven't? Because I am a goddamn father now.
I thought birth control would be to show middle school and high school students video of a vaginal and cesarean birth. I was wrong. Birth control is rooming in with a newborn and their parents for the first two weeks. What. The. Sweet. Fuck. If people knew what the first few weeks of having a baby entailed, the human race would have died out centuries ago. That's a lie. Patriarchal society would have forced humanity forward. When I told my grandfather this, he told me to be glad I'm not Catholic. I'm in an awkward situation, where so many of my thoughts and experiences are based in one liners. As such, I will share some of them:
My son is a badass. He was born strong and ripped to fuck. When he feeds, his belly gets big, and he looks like a 'roided out bodybuilder. I hate to say it, but I am jealous of my son's body composition. At least I can do shit like hold my head up.
My favorite experience was when my son sneezed for the first time. It was a snotty little sneeze. The look of shock, confusion, and fear was priceless. I could literally see him thinking, "What the shit was that?!" Of course, he didn't like it and immediately shook his fists in rage. On a side note, my son was born with a full head of hair, and a receding hairline. When he shakes a fist, he looks like that old guy that yells at kids to keep off his lawn.
In other news, any parent that acts like they got their shit together is lying. Their shit is blowing out their kid's ass, into a partially prepared diaper. The parents are just trying to dodge the pee. On a related note, my kid waterboarded himself with urine at the doctor's office. Welcome to Gitmo, son. Welcome to Gitmo.
I love my kid, but goddamn he's a crybaby. To be fair, he has had a hard two weeks. For the first week, he was tongue-tied and lip-tied. We snipped him at the one week mark, because it took that long for us to learn about the situation. So that automatically put him a week behind in feeding. Not only that, but I have to stretch his tongue and lip to make sure the tissue does not reattach. That's right, I get to finger my son's mouth, five times a day. Each time I do, I tell him that this is why he needs to avoid prison. Because nobody likes a forced fingering. I then finger his face and immediately apologize. I'm pretty sure my son thinks my name is Richard, or something short for it.
We circumcised the child last weekend. That's right. In the course of a week, he had his mouth cut twice and his peepee cut. If I were him, I'd be pissed and hate the world, too. On a positive note, my boy likes to sleep on my chest. He also likes to have explosive bowel movements in my hand. On a less positive note, I have a new metric for telling when I have not secured the diaper well enough.
On another note, I didn't sleep last night. That's a lie. I slept for 2-ish hours, and then took two or three additional power naps. That's also playing a part in the nature of this post.
It should also be noted that I did not have that "paternal instinct" with this child. While my wife wanted to be a mother, my desire for the kid was more of an intellectual curiousity. I love my wife and think she is great. I like myself and think I am not bad. I then decided I was curious to see what type of human we could produce, and what he/she would be like. So rather than having that, "I want to be a dad" thought, I had the "let's see what happens" thought. That's right, I signed up for an 18+ year experimant. It's like going to high school and deciding that you will earn a bachelor's degree, master's degree, PhD, and MD, in that order. I signed up for a mega commitment, and had zero fucking clues as to what I was investing in.
Moral of the Story: I will talk shit about my son. Love does not equal a free pass from calling him an asshole. And while my son may be an asshole, goddamn it I love him.
PS: I know the Russians are reading this, looking for a little bit of something to brighten their day. I assume that the weather is as grey as their clothes. Anywho, I couldn't talk too much shit about Russia in this post. Don't worry though, I got one for y'all soon.
So it has come to this. Over the weekend, we saw every single sign that the baby was coming. There was dropping. There were plugs. There were contractions. There was everything. I actually thought the day was going to be on Saturday. At one point, my wife called her mother because she was grumpy. In fact, she was borderline mega-pissed. That's a lie. But she was incredibly irritable. When she asked my mother-in-law about it, my wife learned that the baby was close to coming. Evidently, when pigs become mothers, they have a tendency to be aggressive towards other pigs.
Now I know what you may be thinking. One, that ain't kosha. Two, how the shit does my mother-in-law know this? Well, as it turns out, this is common knowledge in China. Evidently, during the cultural revolution, Chairman Mao decided to make all of the educated people work and study on the farms. As a result, my mother-in-law had to leave college for a brief time and work on a farm that had pigs. That's how a lot of Chinese people learned about the "bird and the bees". Except it was "pigs in heat". Because China. And Communism. Also, I wrote that as a direct quote, but I just made it up. I really want to make a pun about pigs in a blanket, but that makes me hungry for hot dogs. Beef, of course.
But this allows me to lead to the next part, which is the desperation. My wife and I have started scheduling shit so that it may tempt Murphy's Law into triggering labor. On Friday, we went to see Logan. It's a great movie. Without too many spoilers, I will say that it is very clearly Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart's last X-Men movie. I can also say that I saw a great deal of my parenting style in Logan. Some of our friends asked if I intend to raise our child to be a weapon and I very immediately said, "Yes".
We then had a friend over on Saturday. Why? One, we didn't actually expect the person to show up. Two, we figured it might trigger labor. Instead, I learned boxing technique and taught the person how to go through a gun disarm. I also learned that this person will very likely get shot during a mugging. Evidently they are highly combative. Around this time, my wife started struggling with the whole "get this baby out" mentality and started Googling foods that would either trigger labor or trigger an abortion. As it turns out, they are pretty much the same. It just depends on the trimester. Who knew? Also, I made that last part up.
And then we decided to see Get Out. One, everyone should see it. I have not seen a truly great suspense thriller like that in years. I don't know if there as been one so perfectly executed since the 90's. It didn't even require an extreme level of gore. We also thought it would scare the baby out, and make for a funny story. My wife was tired though, so she took a nap instead.
Moral of the Story: China's sex education program was based on pigs. Also, go see Logan and Get Out. Great movies that awkwardly summarize our feelings toward the pending birth of our child.
(If I used this meme before, then fuck you. It's still true.)
Alright! Time for a story. As you know, it's the final countdown. And as a result, everybody...everybody...is nesting as fuck right now. I mean, holy shit. My mother-in-law has flown into town. She has been so incredibly worried about missing the birth of the baby that she has stopped sleeping. She's got that cracked out grandma look in her eye. If her flight had been delayed at all, she'd have gone into a proper grandma rage. In order to prepare our child for learning Chinese, my in-laws bought several books.
One is an animal book. The only problem is that it is a Chinese animal book. Don't get me wrong, it's great. It has animals like "lion", "cow", "zebra", and "Chinese crested tern". That's right. This book has the basic animals, and all ornithological classifications. Then there is another book that is literally titled, "You Can't Tear or Rip This Book". I don't even know what the fuck is in it, but they pride themselves on being indestructible. Naturally, I plan to train our boy to rip that shit apart.
There was a third book, which had plastic wrapping all over. My wife asked her mother why she bought that book, and the mother said that other kids had touched all of the other books. My wife said, "of course they did. Those other books were good. You never buy the thing that nobody wants to play with." I can't argue. It would be like kids rubbing their dirty little paws all over the cookies, and so you decide to give your child broccoli. Yes, it's clean and untouched. It's also bitter with the taste of disappointment.
The final book was one that had a bunch of colors. Evidently my in-laws have friends that use that shake that book when the kid is crying, so that the child will be transfixed. To be fair, it would not take a ton of drugs for me to be hooked on it. It looks like Picasso tripped some acid and started drawing fruit. That's okay, though. The important thing is that our kids are going to know how to say "apple" in Chinese. (Hint: it's pronounced: 'ping guo').
My wife, on the other hand, is nesting in a very different way. I got home last Thursday, and my wife had come home from the store. Not just any store, but Costco. She bought 24 blueberry muffins, as a buy-one-get-one sale. Her logic was, "When baby comes out, I will not be able to bake muffins for breakfast, so I bought blueberry muffins for breakfast, because we need to have breakfast and I will not be able to bake the muffins. I also bought muffins for my mom, so that she can have muffins, because she wants to take care of me and cannot cook her own muffins." Keep in mind that my wife hasn't baked muffins for breakfast in her entire goddamn life. I don't know if they even have muffins in China, let alone blueberry muffins.
My folks, on the other hand, have been relatively mild. Short of starting each call with, "No baby?", they don't seem to be too anxious for this child. On the other hand, they did leave a conference in New Orleans to drive home. Three days early. They hadn't even unpacked their bags. I'm not sure if they even stopped to use the restroom on their drive back. Come to think of it, I'm fairly impressed that they didn't end up with kidney stones.
As for me? I got all of my work done a month in advance, so that I can leave the office any time and go straight to the hospital.
(I just thought this meme was funny. Because Superman.)
Moral of the Story: Everyone is excited for this child, and he's still not born yet. Oh, and I now have picture books to help me learn Chinese.
