Author: Josh

My parents drove up to visit last weekend so they could spend some time with us before the baby is born.

At some point on Saturday Dad and I found ourselves sitting out on the deck, talking about how cool it is to kill things with guns. The conversation changed abruptly when Dad said, “You should get some of that Thompson’s WaterSeal and treat your deck by spraying that stuff on it with your garden sprayer.”

I let the girls leave work at 2 this afternoon because it’s Good Friday and a Good enough excuse to let the troops get a head start on Easter. I left the office at 3 and hauled home to treat the deck.

I climbed up onto the roof of the deck and treated the top. I climbed down and began treating the underside of the roof with the garden sprayer filled with Thompson’s WaterSeal, also known on the street as TWS or, as I like to refer to it: The Wicked Sheeba. What goes up, must come down. If I had to guess, I’d say I inhaled a good half liquid ounce of aliphatic hydrocarbons and I became, as they say in the chat rooms, high as a mofo. I lost basic motor function. Moving the ladder required the use of all three of my arms and a lot of giggling. I had to look down at my feet while attempting to walk to make sure they would go where I wanted them and that meant I had to take a few steps sideways before moving forward.

Just about the time I had achieved a prophetic concious awareness and a completely waterproofed body I ran out of The Wicked Sheeba. So I did what any other junky would do. I drove to the Home Depot for more solvent. I quickly found another gallon of TWS and rushed to the self check out line so I could hurry home and try to finish the deck before the sun went down.

“Please wait for store associate” read the display after I scanned the gallon tin of TWS. “Is the customer old enough to purchase paints, paint thinners and solvents?” flashed on the screen next. An employee came over and began pulling out his employee badge to scan in at my self check out area. As he approached I looked at him with my Snoop Doggy Dogg eyes and I think I said, “Doooooooood… I’m totally like 21! Scan the man and let me fly away on the highway with angels on my arms and into blueberry sunsets.”

I don’t remember much after that but I found myself back at home with two one gallon varieties of The Wicked Sheeba, five packages of beef round steak, a tulip plant and a bottle of scotch.

My blueberry sunset left me with no daylight in which to finish treating the deck. Assuming the Zombie Eater doesn’t come tonight, I’ll need to finish the deck tomorrow. I think I’ll wear a mask.

When Spring arrives, I host the annual Godfather’s Club Meeting.  Every year I appoint my new Chairman.  The fight among the final two to become Chairman isn’t easy.

Jessica: Give Joe McDermott a listen.

Josh: I’m going to have a real hard time with things like The Wiggles, Barney and children’s music.

Jessica: You will do fine. Besides, there will be other well educated adults acting just as goofy as you are acting.  Isn’t that why you went to college… to become a responsible parent?

Josh: Yes.  And part of that training also involved yours truly drinking beer directly from the nozzle of a keg while being held upside down.

I went with Elise to her regularly scheduled OB appointment this morning.  Everything is perfect except for a bit of information that still has me thinking, “Oh shit!”

Elise is 2 cm dilated and 80% effaced.  Ordinarily my manly instincts would think that 2 cm dilated and 80% effaced are the proper control settings used to launch a torpedo from a submarine.  However, in our situtation 80% effaced means that Elise’s cervix is softening and flattening in preparation for labor.  Once it’s at 100%, well, you can probably guess.

2 cm is the diameter in which the cervix begins to open to allow for birth.  The cervix widens to 10 cm at the time of delivery.  ELISE IS NOT IN LABOR YET.  Her body is just preparing for labor.  The doctor said that if she starts having contractions to “contract away.”

I’m as excited now as I was the first time I heard the baby’s heart beat.  I’m almost as excited as when Britney and Madonna kissed at the MTV Video Music Awards three years ago.  I wasn’t prepared for the information we received this morning.  I didn’t think her cervix would start doing things until much closer to the due date.  My Couvade Syndrome kicked in upon hearing the news and my cervix has been going nuts.  I called the cat from the truck this morning and told him the news.  He said his cervix was doing backflips.  It’s a cervixapalooza.

Cervixes aside, we met the labor and delivery charge nurse at the hospital last night.  We were given a tour of the L&D ward and shown the little circumcision device at Elise’s request.  I don’t know why because we think we’re having a girl.  The nurses were great and we have full confidence in the staff to help Elise through labor.

Tonight we’re going to the hospital to meet the staff pediatricians.  Yesterday we installed the car seat in the truck.

If I can learn to refrain from using vulgarities as every other word in a sentence and keep from kicking members of the family that are shorter than 3-feet tall, we might just have a happy, healthy family.

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.