Getting Ready – Getting Scared

Countdown to Delivery: 17 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Babies are scary little things.  I’m absolutely terrified.  What if something happens to Marie?  Or the Baby?  Or Taylor while I’m not at home?  Or to Winston?  Forget Winston…Mr. Barky Barky’s life is on a short leash these days.

The panic level usually cranks up about (wait for it…) now!  It hit me today while I was working through lunch.  It was the same panic I felt last time we had a kid.  I couldn’t finish my sandwich.

I don’t know that the women understand this about their men.  We’d never tell them of course because that would require and intimate conversation and frankly I’d rather have my throat cut.  But if I was to have one the first thing that I would tell Sweet Marie is that I’m scared for her.  It is so dangerous.

I know, I know…people have babies every day.  They also get cancer, have car wrecks and get audited by the IRS.  This one is breach which is even more scary.  Seldom do I drink but I could use a good Scotch on the Scotch today.  Maybe a double.

To describe it let me give you some examples:

• Bar room fight with a guy six inches taller than me.  No fear
• Driving a motorcycle at 125 miles per hour on the high way.  No fear.
• Jumping out of an airplane.  No fear
• Marriage.  A little fear.
• Lost in an Amazon jungle with a knife, water bottle and a handful of M&M’s.  A lot of fear.
• Babies.  Absolute terror

That is how us guys look at it.  I’m sweating just writing this.  So much can go wrong.  Then there is all the other stuff.  Will a car give out?  Will we have enough money?  Will the baby be sick?  Will my mother in law camp out for a month?  Will my pick for the final four not make it?  So much to worry over.

So I’m just going to stop.  Not worry at all.  Marie doesn’t.  She doesn’t like to feel well but she takes things as they come and never seems to get concerned.  I like that about her.  Or maybe it’s just to keep me from worrying.

Wish it was over. 

Oh, the M&M’s in the jungle?  The killer ants love them!  You don’t want them in your pack!

Extra! Extra! To-Do List Breaks Newton's Law

Countdown to Delivery: 19 days
Due date: 4/18/10

It is impossible for anything to continue to gain mass when all you do is subtract mass.  Its a fundamental law.  However, our Baby To Do list continues to increase even though we keep working it down.  We are 19 days or less from the big day and still we have more things to do that we didn't need to do yesterday when we were to doing it.  

Marie and I sat on the bed in guest room and studied logistics.  How does a mommy who just had a C-section handle the stairs in our house?  Good question.  They are tall staircases, too.  The best thing is to keep her on one floor.  Tough to do with the master bedroom upstairs and the kitchen downstairs.  We figure that we'll keep Marie sequestered upstairs for the first week and I'll stay home with her.  Then, depending on the amount of grandma help we get, we may move her downstairs for the second week so she can get up and go to the fridge.  We'll let her sleep in the guest room and keep the baby in the laundry room.  Ok, that idea didn't go over too well.  But it is warm in there, especially with all the cleaning chemicals.

Food.  The pregnant mommy always wants to keep food in the house.  We made a list of things to cook this weekend (Scott to cook, that is) and I'll go to the store on Thursday.  Looks like 10 hours of cooking and cleaning but we'll have a stocked freezer.  I better buy a case of wine, too.  This could be a long summer.  Make that two cases.

Marie wants the baby right next to her so the bassinet will kept next to the bed.  This way Marie can feed her and not have to walk around too much.  This means that Scott isn't sleeping in the master bedroom because I'll keep the baby up from my snoring.  I better put a cot in the basement.  At least its cool down there and close to the trains.

We made another bigger list and I started on it tonight.  Marie wants my books out of the library and upstairs in our new reading room.  I can't carry my book collection because the bronchitis is making me very winded.  So I hired a neighbor to come do it for us on Saturday.  That will open up the new playroom for Taylor.

So much to do.  New fire extinguishers, several small repairs, arrgh!  When will it in.  Come on baby!  Please show up so Marie makes me be quiet all day and I can hide in the basement!

Not the Energizer Bunny

Countdown to Delivery: 20 days
Due date: 4/18/10

She's running out of energy.  Poor thing.  I tried to plug my wife into the electrical socket but my daughter warned her ahead of time.  She needs energy.

I can't imagine how bad she must feel.  Everything is a struggle.  She is not comfortable lying down.  Even less standing up.  Sitting is a problem, too.  Nothing makes her feel better.  Poor little wife.

I try to do things for her but she likes to do them herself.  She was struggling to move a laundry basket up the stairs when I caught her and took it away.  That's when I noticed that she was actually more round than the basket.  So just how do you walk when your center of gravity is off by so much?  Gently I reminded her that she doesn't have to lift or pick up anything, just let me know what she needs done and I'll do it.  The plague I've had for weeks appears to be lifting, thank God.  I'm getting my energy back.

I took the basket away from her and sent her to bed.  Its 9:00 pm and the daughter is snoozing away, dreaming of princesses and castles.  Time for mommy to relax.  But I don't think she really can but at least I can keep her from working.  Our to do list is still so long!  Tomorrow I'll buy her some fine chocolates.  Marie likes those.  They make her happy.

I guess I'm frustrated because she is miserable and me being the cause of it doesn't make me a likely candidate for helping her. But she never blames me, she just gasps and sighs and mopes around.  Most of the time I can here her Darth Vader breathing down the hall.  Poor little wife.

Its ok, sweetheart...21 days or less.  Just hang in there.  I love you and I'm here for you. 

Hunting Chuck E. Cheese

Countdown to Delivery: 21 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Some say the world will end in fire.
Some say in ice.

Not sure if you are familiar with the poem, but Mr. Frost has it all wrong.  The world will end with Chuck E. Cheese.  If you have read the bible you know God likes catastrophic endings.  Just look at the tower of Babel, The Walls of Jericho, Sodom and Gomorrah, and Jael's spiking of Sisera's head to her tent floor.  I love that one.  So the world will end in the biggest, chaotic mess you can image!

Chuck E. Cheese.

Today was my daughter's fifth birthday.  Well, we staged a fifth birthday for her.  The real birthday is in May, but with the baby coming we just didn't think we could do a good job of it.  So she said she wanted to do it at the Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Fiasco and only wanted to invite girls.  If she had said "and I want the black plague rats there, too!" I might have been encouraged to go.

If you have not been to Chuck's place I'll paint a picture for you.  Go to the monkey house at the zoo.  Give all the monkeys amphetamines.  Then give them small coins in an open cup and turn them loose on the monkey bars.  Oh, and put the monkey house in a very small pizza place.  Chuck E. Cheese.  The horror.

First off it is a place where kids can run amuck.  That is a good thing!  The have very good security.  The waifish teen chick that guards the door and stamps your hand could easily stop me from swiping a young'un.  Especially since she didn't even check me when I loaded the car.  Besides, with half of them crying or screaming, who'd want one? 

I do like the fact that you can bring your own cake.  We got ours at Walmart with with HAPPY BIRTHDAY TYLER on it.  Ok, so the A costs extra.  Taylor didn't notice.  And it had light up princesses on it.  Oh joy!  I'm trying to find something that doesn't have princesses on it and I'm going to buy a dozen of whatever it is.

The children were zooming everywhere.  The pizza tastes like the store bought cardboard variety and I still have a pepperoni down my nice dress shirt.  On the inside, mind you.  Next time I'm wearing plastic.  You know its all plastics these days.  The soda fountain is nice if you can get to it.

Mostly what I don't like is the screaming.  The scared little girl screaming, like when Chucky, the walking rat, walks up behind my daughter and gives her a hug.  She was screaming and crying crocodile tears.  Naturally mommy wasn't there as she had picked this most opportune time to go to the potty.  Again.  Want to give a pregnant mommy a great gift?  Try incontinence diapers.

After three hours we were finally released on parole.  I had three years of my life sucked out of me in that place and all I have to show for it is a very high bank draft and a hand full of brass coins. 

Taylor had a wonderful time and her little girl friends are cute and funny.  Meanwhile I'll sleep with one eye open waiting for the horsemen followed by the giant walking rat.  Lord, take me soon.

To Every Pregnancy, Turn, Turn, Turn....

Countdown to Delivery: 22 days
Due date: 4/18/10

My research is done and I thank you all for the great tips that you've sent in for turning the baby.  Please don't be offended if we don't use The Bunjee Jump Method, the Waffle House Method or the very scary Car Battery Method.  I mean, we're aren't savages here.

We've decided to use the Sweet Sixteen method.  For those of you that are basketball fans, this is a great one.  Marie is glued to the tv each night watching college basketball so it is a natural.  The method goes like this...

First you get into a kneeling position on the king sized bed.  You lean forward and put your head on a pillow, then turn on the basketball game.  Each time you yell "hey, you stupid ref, are you @#$@!#% blind?" then you agitate the baby back and forth.  When your team hits a three pointer you immediately stand up on the bed and jump up and down.   Don't worry, we duct tape her knees together just in case anything wants to fall out.  Then its back to the head down position.  All this time the father is aiming a bright light at your butt going "Follow the light!  Follow the light!"

We rented a forklift to put Marie in position.  About an hour later (and just before game time) we were ready.  Duke was playing Purdue, so I won't tell you the outcome.  The ref missed two calls right off the bat, but the baby didn't turn.  I think she is a Kentucky fan. 

We continued to agitate the baby and the mommy.  Twice we had to roll her back up on the bed.  It would have been much easier if Marie didn't have to go to the potty during every commercial.  We kept having to start all over again.  Oh, did I mention that she had to eat fourteen enchiladas and keep an ice bag on her belly button?  It was quite complicated.  Really we were trying eight of the methods all rolled up into one.  That was my idea.  The stitches come out Wednesday.

Needless to say the baby didn't even move and the game was a nail biter.  We are sending this baby to NC Chapel Hill.

So this method is not going to work.

Our next attempt:  The Dune Buggy Method!  Grab your helmet!

Zelma Adeline?

Countdown to Delivery: 23 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Some folks have asked us about the baby's name.  That is always a hard thing.  For Taylor it was an eight month argument.  This time it has been a bit more civil, though I do think my Cheerios tasted unusual last Saturday.

The first fight usually starts around family names.  I was quite excited to announce the baby would be Zelma Adeline after my great grandmother.  The ice tea glass crashed against the wall just to the left of my right ear.  Stitches come out Wednesday.

So Marie is not up for family names.  How about something a little more daring, though not quite as bold as Moon Unit Zappa.  Chloe Abigail.  Oh, she barfed all over that one.

Marie reminded me of my dream.  Years ago before Taylor was born I had a dream that I was taking my daughter somewhere.  She was a pretty little thing with dark, thick brown hair and big brown eyes like her mother.  Repeatedly I called her Amanda.  Well, I wanted to call Taylor by that name, but Marie wouldn't hear of it.  Apparently she knew someone in the past named Amanda and it made her milk curdle.

Needless to say Taylor is almost blonde with green eyes like mine, so it wasn't her.  So this little girl might be our Amanda and I've called her that from the start.  But I like the name Katherine, as does Marie and we've been calling her Amanda Katherine. 

Katherine is a great name because you can call her Kate, Kathy or Katie.  I got to liking Katie and have started getting attached to that.  My mom had a cow.  That is not an uncommon thing as she has cows quite often.  But this one was a Holstein.  Big Holstein.  Horns and all.  Major cow.  The reason is that apparently folks called her all kinds of knicknames, which is to be considered here. 

But I'm VERY reluctant to listen to my mom's advice on naming, though I usually listen to her for everything else as she's a smart lady.  But naming is NOT her strong suit.  Just ask my brother Wier.  Double u, i, e, r.  Wier.  Poor guy.  He's been abused for that for as long as I remember.  I would have changed it.  I like Nick much better for him.  He looks like a Nick.  Has big forearms like a Nick.  Even a goatee like a Nick.  I've seen him called Wire, Ware, Wear, WEE-er and a host of other contortions.

Nope.  Mom is OUT on baby naming.

But recently I've been listening to me say the word Amanda.  For some reason its not sticking any more and I really like Katie.  So Marie and I settled on Katie.  Yes, Marie has a vote.  She can veto anything and almost always does. 

But it is decided.  She is Katherine Elizabeth Perry.

At least until I sign the papers...

Now if my wife had given my a BOY like I asked for...why he'd be Donald Eugene Talmage Oxnard Perry the IV.  I love family names!

Houston, We Have a Problem

Countdown to Delivery: 24 days (adjusted)
Due date: 4/18/10


Ok, so something always has to complicate anything we need to do around here.  This morning we received a little bad news.  It seems our baby likes to do things feet first.

Baby Katie is breech.  To be specific, she is Frank Breech.  You can read more about it here.
3% to 4% of all babies are breech and almost all come home completely healthy these days.

Well, this is not what we wanted to hear from Tiffany the Midwife (whom we adore) but Marie already knew it.  She had been pointing to a very hard place on the upper part of her tummy and saying "I think that is a head" for quite some time now.

The Midwife checked Marie over top to bottom (pun intended) and pronounced that our little girl (yes, I made them confirm that, too) is very healthy, has plenty of amnionic fluid, and is politely right-side-up.  She is over 6 pounds now and going to be very long.  She's still a girl (where is the divine intervention that I've been asking for, God...think BOY!)  Great, now what do we do?

Tiffany says we have two options; one is to have a Cesarean Section and the second is to have a "cephalic version" which is where the mother is sedated and (like kneading dough) they massage the baby into the right place.  Rumor has it that it is rather uncomfortable for the mommy and can be dangerous.  Besides, Nurse Schuller the Head Nurse at the Hospital says they often flip right back over.  We asked her while we visited the Baby Center at the Hospital this morning.  What a nice place!

Oh goodie!  More decisions.  Marie and I have chatted about it and I think she is going to go ahead with the C-section.  She'll be uncomfortable for a few weeks, but won't have to go through the pain of delivery.  Its her decision, so we'll see what the final outcome is.  Hey, we may get to say what day the baby is born!  That is a good thing.  Marie and I are planners and we like to have the convenience of knowing when it is going to happen.

Now...there is a THIRD option!  Witch Doctoring!  There are TONS of old-lady-I-saw-it-on-Oprah methods for making the baby turn.  So I've taken it on myself to figure out the best ways to get Katie to roll over.

Rolling Potions and Positions by Scott Perry

The Gravity Assisted Sumersault:  Have the mommy get on her hands and knees on the floor, then lower her head to the ground.  Stay in this position through an entire Oprah re-run.  The father can kick the booty once in a while for extra gravity.

Moxibustion:  Burning special Chineese herbs helps to stimulate accupunture pressure points.  Specifically you burn mugwort as close to your smallest toes.  I'm not making this up.  Everything on the internet is true.

Hypnosis:  By putting the mother into a deep state of relaxation you can relax the area around the baby and give it more room to move.  The baby will also quit smoking and donate all its money to a favorite charity.

Visualization:  Each day spend several minutes of quiet time imagining the baby gliding through the birth canal head first.  Watch reruns of Olympic Bobsledding if possible.

Flashlight and Music:  move the bright light from your uterus to your pubic bone.  Whisper quietly "move toward the light!"  In the background play Motley Cru or Def Leppard on the Ipod at full volume.  The baby will be born with a tattoo.

Glass of Juice:  babies often move after a sugar high.  Drink a glass of juice and lay on your side.  No, this is NOT an excuse to eat an entire box of chocolates.

Scrubbing Floors:  get on hands and knees and scrub the floors.  The gentle rocking motion helps the baby move.  Oh yeah, right...like my wife is going to scrub a floor.


Ice Bag Method:  Putting something cold on the top of the uterus makes the baby want to move away to a warm place.  Try using an ice bag for 10 minutes at a time.  Another couple did this and the baby moved to Cozumel.  Much warmer there.

So I'm not sure which way we'll go yet, but we're glad to know that the baby is ok and just stubborn.  Sounds like another Taylor coming along!

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Experiments With Jello Pudding

Countdown to Delivery: 26 days
Due date: 4/18/10

I saw it on the ceiling yesterday.  It's still there.  Jell-o Pudding.  Yup, chocolate Jell-o pudding.  I'd forgotten about it until Marie mentioned it.  It's now three years old.  Guess I should paint over it.

This is why I keep a journal, and now a blog.  Because I take things that cause me pain and I bury them so deeply that even my Proctologist can't find them.  Actually he's a Colorectal Surgeon now.  Seems he was the butt of a lot of jokes with the old title.  Either way, he knows his shit.  But back to my story.

It seems Taylor, when she was young, was already demonstrating her science acumen.  Just like her mother the Geneticist, she likes to conduct experiments.  This particular day it was a test in kinetic energy.  The test subject was the Daddy.

For this experiment we need Daddy to make baby's favorite desert, chocolate pudding.  Daddy will put the pudding (I'm feeling like Vanna White here) in a mini-Pyrex serving dish, just right for little Taylor.  It is only filled half way.  Taylor will attempt to eat said pudding with a malformed baby spoon just for kids learning to use spoons.

Taylor decides to get a little pudding on the spoon and then lean to the right.  She holds the spoon dangerously over the edge of the high chair.  The Daddy, knowing that she often tests Newton's laws, gets up and moves to the other side of the table in order to intercept the spoon.  The spoon is dropped and Daddy grabs the test spoon just inches from the floor.  The Daddy does the happy dance, proud of his cat like reflexes even at his advanced age.

Little does he know that the spoon was just a decoy.  The real action is going on over on the left hand side where baby, using TWO hands in a joint effort, has lifted the pudding bowl into the air and moved it over the side of the high chair, exactly 3.72 feet above the genuine simulated wood flooring of the kitchen.  The stop watch is activated...

The d-a-d-d-y  s-p-r-i-n-g-s  i-n-t-o  a-c-t-i-o-n (all in slow motion) to run to the other side of the table and grab the pudding as it falls to its untimely death.  The baby laughs and laughs and laughs.  As Daddy nears the impact point he realizes that the Jell-o Pudding is falling at a faster rate than his lard butt can move.  Somewhere, a dog barks.

The pudding has been dropped at the precise (+/- .005mm) spot and impacts the floor so that the bottom surface of the bowl lands EXACTLY flat on the floor.  The pudding, which now takes the full impact of the force, decides to have an "equal an opposite reaction" and erupts like a volcano.  The pudding (which only fell 3.72 feet) now accelerates to an unbelievable speed upwards toward the ceiling (Perry's Law of Pudding, Harcourt & Brace, 1984).  Within fractions of a second the Daddy begins to stand up (we're still in slow motion here) and the pudding reaches the ceiling.

The pudding explodes onto the ceiling in an unbelievable demonstration of physics and Jackson Pollock.  The Daddy who is now moving rapidly upwards realizes that what goes up must come down...and begins and outward correction of his trajectory.  Unfortunately the speed of the returning pudding is more than enough to compensate for the slow moving Daddy.  We now have pudding face.  (Speed back up to normal again).  Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.  Again.

My new little one will probably be into water dynamics.  I better go buy that new pipe snake that I've been thinking about.  The toilet will be stopped up, I'm sure.

The Sick Daddy

Countdown to Delivery: 27 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Been a week now.  I've missed two and a half days at work and still coughing up science experiments.  Twice I had to look to make sure it wasn't a valuable piece of equipment that I just sent hurling into a handkerchief.   (cough, cough).   Dr. G says its bronchitis.  I say that I inhaled rubbing alcohol into my lungs along with a match.  Guess I'm going to die.

That's not so bad, I guess.  I'm worth more dead than alive now.  My daughter can continue in private school.  My new baby can be born with her college tuition already in the bank.  Marie can sleep without snoring.  Paradise.  (cough, cough).

Let's see.  There's a lot to do before I croak.  Got to sort out the train stuff in the basement so that Marie can sell it off.  That will take three and one half years.  Better clean out the garage.  Another half a year, I suppose.  (cough, cough).  And the yard.  Got to get the moss out of the back yard.  That's three growing seasons.  Shit, I can't die yet.  Little Katherine will be out of college by the time I'm through.  Besides, I want to see what she looks like.  From the ultrasound I think she is going to have Marie's nose.

Ok, so I better do what the wife says.  I'll stay home tomorrow and sit in bed.  Sleep, read, watch tv.  Honey, bring me food day.  I'll probably get poisoned.  (cough, cough).  Actually, Marie is very kind to me when I get sick.  She's the best wife around.  And the best round wife!

The woods are lovely, dark and deep...(cough, cough)...but I have promises to keep.

Not Changing Stinky Diagpers

Countdown to Delivery: 27 days
Due date: 4/18/10

"Daddy, can I feed the baby?"
"Certainly, my darling daughter."
"We can play and run and share my dolls."
"Well, yes, Taylor, but the baby won't be able to play with you for a long time."
"Why Daddy?"
"She will be too little!"
"Well, I'm not changing any stinky diapers!"

Oh, my precious little one.  How we are about to rock your world!  Should the planets no longer spin around their axis, what do they do?  Wobble?  Fall apart?

When Taylor was born I made it a point to share in everything.  Mommy and I washed her, fed her, rocked her and each of us did our share.  But the diapers were the hardest for me.  How many times I wished I could shout "that is woman's work!" and still keep my head mounted to my shoulders.  I would exchange chores for not having to change the baby.  Heck, I'd cook and do dishes just not to have to change one poopie.

What I thought was a blessing, my keen sense of smell, was actually a trick played on me by God himself.  See, he knew he was going to give me children.  My heightened sense of smell, the only redeeming quality I have, was set against me from the start.  I can pick the top notes out of an expensive perfume, tell from the exhaust what is wrong with a car and find the real sailor in a bar because of his Old Spice cologne.  Ok, well I've not done that actually and don't plan too any time soon.

The first time I changed the diapers it wasn't so bad.  The poopies were small and had almost no odor.  Then, as with cheese or a fine wine, the poopies ripened and fermented into a most potent concoction.  I remember the day well as is was a sunny spring morning.  My little angle was wiggling and giggling at her daddy as I opened the windows to let in the fresh May air.  So gently I picked her up as if she were made of the most delicate porcelain.  So carefully I placed her on the clean terri cloth of the changing table.  Her bright blue eyes sang a little song to me and all was so so happy.

Deep inside the layers of pulp paper, plastic fibers and absorbent chemicals laid a demon.  A thick and fowl smelling beast who's breath could kill with a word.  The diaper rattled as I removed the velcro grips.  It sprung on me like a viper and grabbed my throat.  The stench enlarged my eyes and slammed into my nostrils. Quickly I grabbed the diaper pail and the last of my manly dignity was tossed into the pail in a violent eruption.

My eyes watered as I lifted myself off the floor.  Listening for the wife...did she hear?  Did she know that I wasn't as tough as I'd lead her to believe?  Oh God, please don't let her find out.

Believing in better living through chemistry I found a bottle of Vick's Vap-o-Rub and smeared it on my face.  Then with a pair of viton gloves and a swimmer's nose clip I went back in.  Three ounces of poo will not stop me.  I'm invincible....

Yeah, right.  It would not be the only time I lost my cookies changing diapers.

Wished On My Worst Enemy

Countdown to Delivery: 28 days
Due date: 4/18/10

The colonel was quite frustrated.  It was important to make the captured man talk.  Had it not been for the press, the fools, the law makers, the man would have spilled his guts by now.

His fist slammed into the small table in anger.

Then it came to him...a sound, a feeling, a horror.  The horror.

He stood sup o fast the small table went crashing to the bare concrete floor.  Grabbing his jacket he yelled for the ever-present corporal.

"The plan!  The plan...it will work!"
"Beg your pardon, sir?"
"We need a baby!"
"Baby, sir?  We're in the desert..."
"Fool.  Get me a baby.  New baby.  Colicky.  Very young.  Do it!"
"Sir!"  and he escaped through the tent flap.

"You imbecile!" he bemoaned himself.  "Why didn't you think of this before?"

Two immense Marines shouldered him as they walked down the sandstone corridor.  The bumbling colonel trying to keep up and carrying a small basket laden with soft blankets.

"Open his cage!"
The clank of the wrought metal met with the crash of the door slamming into the wall.

"Stand him up!"
The torn and tattered man, who was all of 28 or 30, stumbled to his feet.  He leaned to the left and then right, tired.  Haggard.

"You see this!  Look at it! Do you know what it is? Do you? DO YOU?"

Abdullah spoke no English, but he understood that he was to look in the basket.  Before his eyes was a tiny child.  Boy child.  Only a month old if that.  Much like his own son.  He raised his eyes in a befuddled look at the colonel as if to ask "why this?"

"We are putting the child in the cell next to you.  He hasn't slept through the night yet.  He cries, and cries and cries.  You, my friend, YOU will tell us what we need to know!"

Within the week poor Abdullah had fashioned a small rope from his ragged clothing, and made his peace.  The baby had won.

I hope this new child sleeps through the night!  The last one didn't sleep for six months.  I have a NICE rope!

The Most Dangerous Animal

Countdown to Delivery: 29 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Remember Marlin Perkins and Wild Kingdom?  I loved that show.  It was on that show that I learned about the most dangerous animal on the planet; a mother Kodiak bear.  Since one lives in my house I can tell you all about them!

Most of the time they hibernate.  Sometimes during the day.  Often they don't even make it to the upstairs bedroom.  They just curl up on the sofa, usually with a great exhalation of air and a few wimpers.  When they are asleep they are not much trouble at all.  At least, until you wake them.

When you wake them they are always hungry.  Ravenous is the word.  A mother Kodiak bear will eat your arm off if you don't get her food VERY fast.  For the most part if you just carry food on your person all the time, and the old bear wakes up...you can feed her right them.  If you don't she could even eat your child who might be harmlessly coloring at her craft table.  Kodiaks do not use ketchup, by the way, they just eat it whole.

I walked up on the bear yesterday as I came in from work.  The snarl was quite frightening and I hid my arms from plain site.  With my back to the wall, making sure I maintained eye contact, I slid my way over to the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of Klausen Always Refrigerated Whole Dill Pickles with Low Sodium.  Reaching my hand into the jar and fending off the mad bear with a kitchen chair that I grabbed on the way in I managed to get two large pickles out of the jar.  Lately I've been buying them by the case along with Mayfield Moose Tracks Ice Cream.

Quickly I threw the pickles at the bear who snatched them out of mid air and swallowed them in one gulp.  Rapidly her anger subsided, but only for a moment.  While she was delighting herself with the pickle taste in her muzzle I cobbled up a peanut butter and honey sandwich and left it on the counter while I grabbed my only child and fled the house.  It was a narrow escape.

In a few minutes we returned to the house to find a happy mommy busily going about making dinner.

That was a close call!

One Month and Counting

Countdown to Delivery: 30 days
Due date: 4/18/10

My friend Tami at work said "wow, I can't believe 8 months have gone by so quickly!"  She's right, as this pregnancy has flown by.  I'm so glad, too.  As the first one progressed I worried myself sick.

Will the baby be sickly?
Will my wife die in labor?
Will it have three heads?
If I don't get test X done, will my child be a slobbering bone head that is a concert pianist?
Can I afford it?
Will insurance cover everything?

Fathers, especially new ones, worry a lot.  

I blame the doctors for this.  They just HAVE to tell you every scary thing they can think of.

"Ah, the daddy!  I'm glad you came to the visit.  Every father should come to at least once!"
"I've been to the last six visits so far..."
"Like I said, it is good to see you.  Now stand out in the hall, you are in my way."

"Doc, what is that gizmo?"
"Oh nothing, just the SuperProbe 1200."  She sticks it somewhere a probe like that probably shouldn't be.  The wife doesn't even flinch.

"Well?"
"Well what?"
"How is the baby....that's what."
"Sorry, can't really tell anything."
"Then what does the probe do?"
"Nothing Scott.  It is just an insurance requirement.  The jelly is free though."

The doctor leaves and the Midwife comes back in.  Now the Midwife is sharp.  She has her own babies and has delivered tons of them.  Doesn't hold anything back.

"Scott, do you feel that?"  She takes her hand and makes a 3" divot in my wife's huge belly.
"No...what is it?"
"The head."
"Feels like a foot."
"Could be."
"Could be what?"
"A foot.  It is hard to tell sometimes."

The Midwife says "Did you two decide on amnio testing?"
"What are we testing for?"
"Mutancy."
"Mutancy!!!!"
"Yes, Mr. Perry.  You may want to know if your child will resemble an alien."
"Actually I don't..."
"There are some risks with the test though..."
"What risks?"
"Well the test itself could make the child a mutant."
"Then why take the test?"
"Mr. Perry, there is a one in one thousand chance your kid could have seven eyes.  We need to know that."
"Won't we know it when it is born."
"Yes, but you need to know it before hand."
"What good would that do?"
"I don't know Mr. Perry...just good to know you are having a seven eyed child."
"But if I we take the test..."
"Then you have a one in five hundred chance of having a child with seven eyes."
"But that is worse!"
"Yes, but we don't make money for not giving tests."
"So how is the baby now?"
"Good...I guess."

"Why in the hell can't anyone in this office tell me ANYTHING about this baby?"
"What do you want to know, Mr. Perry?"
"Is the baby at the right angle to come out?"
"Well, the baby will move into position on its own."
"So you don't know..."
"Well, we still need to check it."
"So....just why are we here?"
"To make sure everything is alright with Marie!"
"But you don't know if anything is alright or not..."
"Yes...but we'll know more in four weeks."
"Um...the baby will be here in four weeks."
"Your right!  Won't that be a joyous occasion?"

They charged me for the visit.

My daughter is sleeping in the other room.  I'm going to go give her a kiss on the forehead and make sure she is warm.  She may be the only daughter I get.

Ok, I don't Want a New Baby

Countdown to Delivery: 31 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Taylor is in her room sniffling and crying to mommy.  Her behind is a bit warmer than normal.

I just found her in the bathtub.  Maybe I wouldn't even have noticed except that I heard a really loud "Hey Mommy!  Look!  I'm making waves!"

The bathroom was one inch under water when I got there.  Hey, it is only the second time this week that I've had to drain the bathroom floor.  Black mold?  No, we don't worry about that when we are doing cannonballs in the tub.  Daddy will replace the walls and the floor.  "He fixes everything!"

I'm so not ready for another baby...

Hey!  I've got an idea!  I'll run away!  I'll pack up a bag and sneak out tonight while no one is looking.  Next time anyone sees me I'll be in the Florida Keys, drinking rum and writing in my journal making notes for my next book.  I'll watch the sunset!

Oh, Marie.

Shit.  I forgot about her.

Guess I better start ironing baby clothes.  My socks are wet.  Where is the rum bottle?

Baby Stuff Everywhere!

Countdown to Delivery: 32 days
Due date: 4/18/10

It looks like Babies-R-Us exploded around here.  There is baby stuff everywhere!  Some of it still wrapped up in ribbons.  Baby wash.  Baby clothes.  Baby wipes.  Heck, Marie found a baby something-or-other yesterday that we still can't figure out what it is supposed to do.

Lots of cleaning going on so I'm thinking we are getting closer to the nesting energy jolt.  Still not quite there yet.  I still can hear Darth Vader when she comes up the stairs.

We took Taylor to the hospital to have Big Sister Class.  What fun!  We learned all about babies and how to drop them on the carpet.  Ok, well that was not what we were trying to do.  Still, even an infant is VERY large in Taylor's arms.  She really wants to feed her new sister.  They even gave her a Big Sister t-shirt! 

The daddy is still running a fever and Taylor went to have her tonsils checked today.  We've got to get the plagues out of the house before the little one comes.

I'm very excited!

Welcome to the Perry Baby Blog!

Countdown to Delivery: 33 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Marie Perry is now eight months pregnant and the countdown has begun!  She's quite round and very tired.  The always hungry mommy is working today to get things read for the new arrival while the daddy Scott Perry is very sick with the flu.

This will be our second daughter, whom we've named Amanda Katherine Perry.  Big sister Taylor Michelle is very excited!

Today Marie raided the basement and garage for the baby carrier, bottles and pacifiers, baby bath tub and numerous other items.  She sanitizes them all and checks to make sure they are operating well.  Babies need a lot of support equipment...kind of like their own pit crew.

zzzooooommm!  zoom, zooom, zoooom.....

"Hi fans!  Ralph McHugget here in the pits at Road Atlanta!  The pack leader Baby Amanda is just now coming in to the pits so let's watch her top notch crew in action."
Crew chief: "Alright men, we'll need fuel!"
Fuel Team:  "Got it, Chief!  40 liters of breast milk and a pump to load it on board."
Crew Cheif:  "Check...what about tires?"
Tire Team:  "Roger that, one pair of booties in yellow and one in pink."
Crew Cheif:  "Ok, now about the car body..."
Main Crew:  "Covered!  Crib is good to go, padded, water resistant with frilly sheets.  Baby music sound generator and an assortment of pink blankets."
Crew Chief:  "Any colors beside pink?"
Main Crew:  "Negative.  The car owner demands everything in pink.  Seems the sponsor is Pepto Bismal."
Crew Chief:  "Ok.  How about electronics and communications?"
Tech Team:  "We've got baby monitors, both sound a video.  Systems all go."
Crew Chief:  "Ok...now for the oil."
Engine Team:  "Big supply of diapers from the baby shower.  Should hold us for a while."
Crew Cheif:  "Great!  Looks like we're ready!"

LOL...you are NEVER ready for a baby...