Month: March 2006

Elise is officially, as they say in the world of obstetrics, full term.  That means that she is 37 weeks pregnant and our child could be born healthy, minus a few ounces, at any moment.  Any time except during The Apprentice.

It’s scary that 37 weeks has passed in the blink of an eye.  It’s scary that life as I know it will suddenly change.  It’s scary that in less than a month I will be a dad.

I spent this past weekend at my parents’ house.  My mom said, “Remember, the baby will cry because it needs something.  It’s not lashing out at you.  Yet.”

I think the baby will cry because I’ll be constantly yelling, “Why wasn’t your biological disposition programmed to allow you to wipe your own butt?!?!”

I don’t like messes, interupted sleep, chaotic schedules, unorganization or feces.

I’m screwed.

“Shakira is HOT!”

Elise and I have begun nesting. We haven’t verbally acknowledged this to one another, but I’ve seen it setting in.

I’ve tested all of the smoke and carbon monoxide alarms throughout the house. I’ve refinished the Zombie Eater’s dresser and attached the refinished mirror that I personally shopped. Yesterday I bought a 110 pack of little Pampers. I’ve begun massaging my perineal so I don’t need an episiotome and I’ve found myself screaming to the cat, “No. NO! NOOOO!! DO NOT PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH!!!”

Elise has been listening to New Age music non-stop in preparation for a calm, natural newborn delivery. If I hear one more Enya song I’m going to stick a fork in my ear and I swear her “hypnobirthing” CD is narrated by Betty White. The neighborhood association has already contacted us twice due to the Nag Champa billowing from our house and the neighbors are complaining about the constant sitar playing and chanting.

Our baby’s due date is a month from today.  I know this because I looked at the calendar this morning.  I am a human who is fully capable of aggregating and analyzing complex data from a wall calendar and am also capable of sticking a booger in my eye.

April 21st.  This date marks the 170th anniversary of The Battle of San Jacinto where Texas secured its independence from Mexico.  To commemorate this battle which is considered, by many historians, as one of the most important in world history, I have decided to consider naming our first-born after one of the lesser-known heros of the Battle of San Jacinto:

Bob “G-Thang” Martin
Michael “Pistol Whip” Weinstein
Hong “Arms” Nguyen
Alberto “Hopper” Rodriquez
Stanley “The Steele” Simmons
Francine “Mean Eye” Blauvelt
Chuck Norris
Giosue “Cookie” Laurentiis
Jake “The Snake” Roberts

Everyone keeps asking, “Are you excited?  Is Elise excited?  Do you know what you’re having?  Do you have ‘everything’?  Are you ready?  Is the nursery done?  Can I borrow $20?”

Fifteen years ago I learned while training for the Preliminary Standard Aptitude Test to use the answer “C” if ever uncertain.  By the way, “C” is never to be confused with “si” thanks to Pistol Whip Weinstein and his staff of dachshunds.

I am excited.  Elise is more so excited that she’s been known to high-knee around the house naked while practicing her “Hee hee hee, whooooooo” breathing techniques.

I’m not nervous, scared or anxious.  Tens of thousands of people become parents everyday.  Elise and I are happy and healthy and if I had to put money on it, I’d bet our baby will be the same.

I don’t know if we have ‘everything’ or if we’re ready.  There’s never really a time when you’re ready because you don’t know what you’re getting ready to be ready for.  What if the kid is born with an extra armpit?  How do you ready yourself for that?  And would Three Pit Baby Bjorn be a cool name for a band or what?  This is one of those life adventures that I’ve been taking in stride.

Elise wants to try to deliver naturally (no anesthetic).  She has been employing many resources such as books, videos and consultations from other moms.  She finally bought a book on hypnobirthing.

I, myself, am having a natural childbirth in that I’ve opted to not subject myself to informatation overload and to take in the whole experience as is comes.

In my last month as a childless human I plan on embracing sleep and my rarely employed gag reflex.

I jumped out of an airplane on Saturday evening. Since then I’ve found it very hard to think of anything other than jumping out of airplanes. Oh yeah, and a baby due in a month. But back to jumping out of airplanes…

Since then I’ve been checking out websites, photos, videos and have subscribed to a great skydiving Podcast. I keep yapping at Elise about skydiving to which she responded tonight, “I bought you that tandem jump because you said you wanted to jump out of an airplane. I didn’t think you would get this excited about it! Is this your new hobby?”

It wasn’t until hearing her response that it dawned on me: This is my new hobby.

Since we found out that Elise was pregnant her dad has boasted twice that he took up a new hobby with the birth of his two children. With Eric it was cars. With Elise it was photography. I consider Steve very well versed in both subjects.

Up until now I have felt somewhat disappointed that I hadn’t yet found my new hobby. In the past six months I’ve felt like I’ve been missing out on some sort of rite of passage.

I’ve found my rite of passage.

Mom always told me I was an “air sign”.

On Saturday afternoon I was thrusted out of an airplane while traveling at 120mph and at 10,500 ft. and it was THE MOST AMAZING EXPERIENCE EVER!!!

Two days later and I still can’t put the experience and my feelings into words. I can’t stop thinking about it and my heart is still pounding as my body and mind beg for more, more, more!

I’m hooked. I want to do it again right now. Freefalling 7,000 ft. in 45-seconds – there’s nothing like it. It’s an individual rush, the flight is an enlightening and spiritual experience. It’s one of my childhood dreams that has come true: to fly.

I know it will mean so much more when I can jump alone.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of–wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew–
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (June 9, 1922 — December 11, 1941)

I was interviewed by iParenting.com in December because 1) I love to cook 2) my wife is pregnant and 3) I am a cognizant black man who prefers pink shirts and knows the pirate treasure.

Peace out.

Friends and strangers alike always offer unsolicited advice for first-time parents. A great tidbit I recently picked up from John was, “Don’t call EVERYONE while you’re on the way to the hospital to have the baby. That means EVERYONE will be there when you don’t want them there. Wait until after the baby is born and call those who you need.”

Marc called on Monday to dispense not so much advice, but more of a “how it’s going to be”:

“We was poor. And when we wuz hungry, we ate crawfish. When thuh wuz no mo crawfish, we ate fowl. When thuh wuz no mo fowl, we ate sand.”

“Yuh ate SAND?!?!”

“We ate sand…”

Hear the parent prophet here.

Setting your first born’s sonogram video to the Forrest Gump theme song is about as smart as drinking boxed wine while chopping onions and staring at a lava lamp.