Just a test

Testing Windows Live Writer.

Hope this works, it looks easy to use

Olympic Season, finally

It’s been over a month since I’ve updated and I don’t have an excuse. I just don’t have much to write about. Things are really busy at my dad’s work and my mom complains about me and blames me for her discomfort and moodiness all day long. My dad says being a fetus is a lot like being a husband.

In case you hadn’t heard, I’m about 2 pounds now, which is about 1 pound, or 100%, more than I weighed the last time I wrote in my fetus blog. Dad says I’m gaining pounds faster than the girls at his high school reunion. He skipped the reunion, but the pictures are on the internet, and I’m offended. But, all my weight is in my head. It got even bigger when Mother Erin’s co-workers threw me a shower and bought me more stuff than you would believe.

I have run out of room to roam in this womb. I am practically smothered all the time. When I move, it’s a major ordeal. I have to push everything around and it almost always leads to people poking me and my dad coming over and yelling “HI THERON” in this retarded voice. I kinda like it though. It’s a nice break from the normal ass chewings my mom gives me just for stretching my legs out. I guess she likes me, but my newness seems to be wearing off and that’s kind of sad. Oh well.

I was watching the Olympic opening ceremonies tonight and it got me thinking about how much I wish I wasn’t white. All the white people countries had the most boring clothes, were the least excited, and were just generally boring. That is, except for the Italians and Germans. They all seemed a little drunk. I can’t wait to be born so I can start drinking right away. The frustrating thing about the Olympics is that they only usually show the boring sports on TV. They will show a 15k boring ass run that takes forever instead of showing ping pong, javelin throw, pole vault, fencing, karate, badminton (probably the most fun sport to watch), or wrestling. No, instead of showing anything exciting, they will put the road walk on prime time, which is probably the gayest of all sports. If you haven’t seen the road walk event, it is just as bad as it sounds. It is worse than those little china girls they dressed up in white cowboy boots and baseball hats to cheer on the Olympians. I recognized a number of those girls from the internet, if you know what I mean.

Watch this:

Cool Road Walk Example

To answer your question, no this is not a clip from the Special Olympics. It’s from the not so special Olympics, and I could win it. Bear in mind that golf, cricket, and other less absurd competitions are not in the Olympics, but walking like an old lady at the gym will get you a free trip to China.

Bob Costas and Matt Lauer, by the way, decided to forego Olympic discussions during the Opening Ceremonies to instead educate the world on all things politically controversial. In an effort to ruin the overwhelmingly peaceful and unifying parts of the Olympics, they described every negative political event and conflict of every country as their Olympians entered the stadium. They even went silent on the countries that they were hoping to get booed, like France and Iran, just so everybody could hear. Nobody booed. I’m torn because I’m sure they brought a lot of awareness, but that’s the kind of awareness that causes knee jerk judgment to so many places that don’t deserve it and have complex issues and traditions that are not addressed. I thought it to be uncouth and disrespectful, to the extent that it overshadowed the educational value completely. But, what do I know? I can’t even breathe or road walk or eat.

I gotta go. If my dad’s work slows down, and if something in this straight jacket of a womb inspires me, I’ll be back soon. I got a lot coming up though. We move to a new house in two weeks. We are renting a Uhaul tomorrow to deliver all the furniture that won’t fit in the new house, which is not much larger than Erin’s uterus. Plus, I have about 5-6 pounds to pack on in short order.

Bye.

Suddenly I crave red meat, things crafted from leather and filled with air that I can throw, metal (whatever metal is), guitar riffs, power tools, large televisions, chicks, and violence.... I don't know what's happening to me, but I seem to have no control over it. I'm totally raging and all I can do about it is kick the holy hell out of Mother Erin's guts.
I think I want to be like Mike Rowe, the guy that hosts Dirty Jobs and narrates The Deadliest Catch and does all the Ford commercials. He plays the best "dude" on tv, if you ask me.

Not to switch the subject, but I went to the doctor today and they found out I am a boy. I am so GD sick of being called "it" that I'm just glad to have my sex identified, I didn't really care what it was. Mother Erin wanted me to be a girl and said "you're always letting me down fetus". That's why I love my father exclusively now. No just kidding, she didn't say that. All the sudden, just because she knows I'm a boy and not a hermaphrodite or alien, it hit her that I am really a baby, a human one. So what do I get? Baby talk, all day. Mother E's baby voice is worse than her Tim voice, which sounds like a 9 year old boy impersonating Santa Claus. I know Tim's voice, and it's way manlier and cooler than that.

God this is stressing me out. I have so much crap to do before I get out of here. I have to find a name for myself. I have to pick colors. I have to communicate clearly to everyone that baby shirts with cute little sayings on them are just not my style. If you are thinking about buying me something, make sure you wouldn't find an adult version of it in a truck stop. Don't get me wrong though, I want and appreciate free stuff. Lots of it. Buy away, but here is my style guide, Mother Erin and Tim:


1. No shirts with dumb sayings, unless they are very witty and sarcastic, like this one. Don't be afraid to go out on a limb:

2. No camouflage. No exceptions. None. No variations, no RealTree, no other colors of camouflage. I just don't do camouflage. I have my reasons


3. I'm not gay (probably), don't make me look like I am. It's 100% okay if I am, but gay guys don't mind looking straight, so play it safe and keep the bow ties and infant sweater vests on the rack.


4. If it costs a lot, I'll look stupid for wearing it. A $50 baby shirt is wrong and I don't want any part of that. Buying Ralph Lauren baby stuff is statistically proven to increase my odds of being an asshole. Please don't turn me into an asshole.



5. It needs to be comfortable and sensible. I am not your dress up doll. I will wear a baby tuxedo for your amusement, Tim, but only once or twice. The rest of the time, I would prefer to be stylishly comfortable. There is a difference between gross comfortable and stylishly comfortable, so be cautious. I don't mean Triple XL t-shirt on a fat lady at Wal-Mart comfortable, I'm just saying you should use common sense, Erin.

I'll have more guidelines and examples of those who violate them later.

I gotta get out of here. I'm gonna go pump some iron and stare at my muscles in the mirror.

Fetuses For Obama

I know what you are thinking... you wish you knew where to go to hear a little more about the presidential race. Me too. There's plenty of born people going on and on about this subject, but there's only one opinionated, well informed, UNBORN blogger who believes in change as well.

This fetus believes in real change. I don't know if I'm a boy or girl, and I don't even know what race I am. Mother (whitey) Erin says I will be half Kimbo Slice, dad says he's fine with that. So, maybe I'll be an Oreo. Whatever.

But I know what I believe. I know that Americans continue to ride on a cloud of unfounded arrogance, based on the accomplishments of people who fought for a different freedom and worked in a completely different economy. I am going to be born into a world whose financial system is completely global. Moreover, its communication is global, and thus its culture is affected by that which all other countries do. While fairness, growth, hope, health, hunger and other very basic needs are realized around the world, every other country has the ability via the internet and TV to see Americans bicker and complain about the pettiest of things, like gas prices for our giant cars, minor unemployment issues, and a few tax dollars. They see us choose from our 200 tv channels which we charge to our credit cards, ditch our perfectly good stuff for bigger or smaller better stuff, cram our faces full with as much food as we can, and buy so much that we don't need. Meanwhile, the onlookers work for their next meal and realize that they have accepting pennies to provide us with all our unnecessary crap, and they are starting to realize they don't have to. They are demanding more from us and they're getting it. More advanced nations with greater wealth continue to work and find ways to live wisely within their means, watching us squander away our inherited well-being for the cheapest of thrills. What is worse and more annoying than watching a guy who inherited millions of dollars act like he earned it as he blows it? That is where we are and why I will be born into a completely spoiled place.

What I like about Obama is that he knows all this and he seems interested in changing it. I think he's smart enough to effectively work to show that the U.S. is growing and changing for the better. Electing him would be proof of that. There hasn't been a better time to get Americans to question our indulgence. As people are "squeezed" compared to the usual, and as we see more tv shows about people that really know what hard times are, we can't help but think that something isn't right. I think Obama can inspire people here to understand that we are addicted to superficiality and that we have to change. I may be one wrong fetus, but I think it will take somebody like Obama to divert our thoughts from the rampant capitalism that has driven us to having all the stuff we possibly can and inspire us to seek something larger and more meaningful. More than a political leader, we need a cultural and social leader. I think he will do fine with policy and everything else political, but I think he will do better with addressing our countries larger, more pressing issues of self-righteousness and entitlement. I can't say that about any other politician.

I hope his influence can start with my parents, whose house has more bedrooms than people and whose garage has a refrigerator just for beer. They talk a lot, but I'm looking for a little more action.

Fetus out.

Big Heads Unite

The fetus world rejoiced this week as our fellow big head took the American Idol competition. They actually say the Arch-“see”-u-leta kid looks like a fetus, but wouldn’t that be a really ugly fetus? Yes. And why are his lips always so wet? I bet he makes sucking noises all the time to get the saliva to stay in his mouth and it gets on his friends nerves... maybe even worse than his dad’s hat. I heard he still breast feeds. The bad thing is that he will probably be on the Disney Channel forever, including all of my childhood years.

I haven’t seen much of my father lately and that’s been nice. Mom said his trip to Dallas was something called a “Babymoon”, but he disagreed. I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean anyway. Does he think his life is going to be so bad when I’m around that he needs to do all the fun stuff he can before I get here? I think that is what he thinks and it hurts my feelings. I just grew feelings a couple weeks ago and he already hurt them. What a jerk. See if I don’t decide to play 6 sports and participate in 14 extracarriculars in grade school just so you have to drive me from one to the next all day, every day. Your fancy beers will sit there all by themselves while I am learning gymnastics from a gay man in tights, dad.

I’ve been checking out some daycares lately, since my parents don’t care about me enough to stay home and raise me. I knew they were expensive, but wow… $900 a month??? Dad said I will have to pay him back when I’m old enough to work…. So I’ve got 5 years to get ready for that. Don’t know who buys sweat, but dad says there is a shop for that and that they would hire me.

Other news, Mother Erin and dad ordered a chair for me to rock in. It’s a glider rocker, with a glider ottoman. Dad has to put it together though, so I don’t see the gliding feature working the way it’s supposed to. This is the first large purchase they made for me, out of way more than they realize. I am totally fabulous and intend to have all that is fabulous…. Just kidding. I hate people that say things like that.

I had a Unibrous Maudite beer tonight to calm my nerves, which grew in awhile back and continue to stress me out. Don’t tell Mother Erin though… she’s a total hag when it comes to things like drinking while incubating. She won’t even let me have a cup of coffee, let alone a vodka tonic.

Ok, it’s bed time. I’m going to go listen to The Ting Tings album and read ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting To Hate Your Mom”

I think I might be a boy. Since my last doctor’s appointment, I have grown just about everything. I shit you not, I used to have just stumps for arms, and now, 1 month later, I have 10 toes, 2 feet, 2 knees, a butt, arms, elbows, hands with at least 10 fingers, and I think there’s a good chance an 11^th is coming in. And get this, my fingers bend in three different places now. For the ultrasound today, I really showed how it all works…. Curled my toes, made fists with my fingers, kicked my feet, bent my knees, rolled over, and even grabbed my umbilical cord… that’s right, I can grab stuff already. I’m hella cute. I am minus 27.5 weeks old and I can grab stuff. I am a fetus prodigy, if you will, and I look like a full grown baby already. The doctor today said, “Everything doesn’t look normal, it actually looks cuter than normal”. She was picturing me naked…. with an ultrasound machine.

BTW, if being a female means being like shallow, fake, out of money, crooked career politician Hillary Clinton and being male means I get to be like the honest, genuine, easy to relate to, inspirational, solid-on-issues-that-matter-to-me-most, people uniting Barack Obama, then I definitely want to be a male. If that’s not what it means, then I really don’t care what I am.

Just missed the tornadoes tonight. I had to sit in the small interior bathroom for awhile as the storm passed over. Dad was ticked because he wants to make an insurance claim and get a new roof.

Doesn’t seem like anybody wants to buy my parent’s house. 10+ families have come and looked at it and all thought they were too cool for this house. But, they were wrong. Jerks.

I think I have a fetus-crush on Lorena Ochoa. Something about the way she hits her short irons that really gets me kicking. Not a big fan of Paula Creamer though, she kind of has a double chin and I think she thinks she’s hot and this fetus thinks that’s annoying.

I’m going to go pour myself a tall glass of amniotic fluid and roll around the uterus for awhile.

See you later.

The Mother of the Fetus Writes Again...

Dear Precious Fetus -

You are a lucky child. I am sure you have been reading the letters your great-grandparents have written you and are getting excited to be held, snuggled, kissed, and spoiled. Did you see the last word?? Spoiled. I hope that you are feeling spoiled now sitting comfortably in my uterus, shielded from loud noises, bright lights, and hard surfaces. I am sorry though about all the Chili-Lime sunflower seeds I have been feeding you though. They are quite addictive, ask your grandmother about those later.


I do think we should thank your Great Grandmother Mimi for her most recent round of spoiling. Her love and dedication to you have resulted in a plethora of comfort objects including your very first Mimi quilt and beautiful receiving blankets. You will someday understand the furor these quilts cause within your Holiday family. You got one before you were even born.

I continue to be amazed at the emotions you have caused us all to have. And also the nausea that just won't quite go away. Be sure to save some kisses for Mimi and Grandpa. Also Granny and Pawpaw, Grandpa Sam and Connie, Pops and Grandmother to be Named, Uncle Paul and Aunt Maggie, Uncle Ol'Dirty (that could Matt or Ben)... well how long this list is might scare you. Just be prepared. I can't wait to see you again on May 9th! Be sure and smile for the ultrasound.

Love your Mother

Fetus Letterbag: PawPaw Is Cool and Smart

I like to think that I am coming into the world at just the right time and this letter I got today from PawPaw certainly supports that thought. Just a generation ago, a fetus would have a hard time getting to know his predecessors. I hear people would tell stories or maybe find a written one, but that stuff can get lost. Today, a kid can get emails like this one from PawPaw and I will have them forever. I'm learning everything about where I came from, from the people who know it best. So, I and my parents are extremely grateful.

Having known my mother for a couple months now, I totally would have thought her to have a boring background, because she is TOTALLY boring me. Some days I wish my arms were long enough to plug my ears when she is work going on and on and on.... But anyway, as luck would have it, my family background is anything but boring. The letter below explains it all.

Granny and PawPaw, please keep in touch. I am really into early childhood development and this stuff is great. The womb wi-fi internet is good for research and all, but these letters are just way more interesting. I can't thank you enough.

Sincerely,
Your -31 week old Really Great Grandchild.



Here is the letter:

Dear Baby Roberts,
I am your great-grandfather PawPaw. As senior member of the Elder clan, I look forward to telling you stories about your Elder heritage. I hope to tell you about your ancestors.
Your great great great great-grandmother danced with Jesse James, a famous outlaw. Your great great great great-grandfather hunted buffalo to supply meat to the army. Ask your daddy about buffalo. Your great great great-grandfather owned livery stables in several Oklahoma towns. He rented horses, buggies, and wagons to people who needed them to get around the country. There were no cars. Your great great-grandfather rode in a covered wagon from Oklahoma to New Mexico. I’ll tell you why one day. Oh, and by the way I, PawPaw, won World war II all by myself. Whoops, I just heard Granny laugh.
All of this will give you some idea of what is waiting when you enter this in your world, so no, you can’t stay in your mommy’s belly. You must come out and be greeted by lots of people. They will share love, kisses, hugs, and stories. You will have to tell each storyteller that his stories are the best. That is how to get along in your family.

See you in November.
Love, PawPaw

This is pretty awesome news. My parents' parents' parents, who call themselves Granny and PawPaw, wrote me a letter today. So, I am one excited and appreciative unborn child right now. Granny and Pawpaw, I dedicate this 8th week of development to you. I will start to develop elbows, teeth, and intestines this week. I don't know what those things do yet, but whenever I use those body parts, it will be in your honor.

Here is the letter:

April 2, 2008


Dear Baby Roberts,

We want to introduce ourselves to you. We are two of your great-grandparents, Granny and PawPaw. Silly names, aren’t they. We call you Baby Roberts because so far a name has not been selected for you. For that matter we don’t even know if you are a boy or a girl. But one thing we do know for sure is this. We are prepared to love you with all our hearts.
If you are like most babies, you will enter the world crying like crazy. Right now your world is warm, dark and cozy. Your mom’s heart beat keeps you safe. When you arrive on your birth day, you, your mom, and your dad will be a family and together you will always keep each other safe.
Let us tell you something, Baby. When you arrive you will be smart to hand out name tags to all your kinfolks. You will have parents(probably no tags necessary for them), grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and cousins once removed. Each will want to hold you. When you’ve had it with all
the holding, it’s time to cry. It’s guaranteed, mom and dad will come to rescue you.
You have so many surprises awaiting you, but here are two that you can work to your advantage. One day before you are even a month old, your head will stop bobbling. Honest. The world will stop bobbling, and you can find your thumb so much easier, And one day not long after the head thing, you will be lying on your bed, on your stomach, You will be drooling, and rubbing your nose on your drool-wet sheet. You will get aggravated, stiffen your arms, raise your upper body, and plop, you will turn over. Get ready. Your mom and dad will email the entire tribe and declare it a miracle. Your dad will take a 1000 pictures. Indulge him. These are just two of the wonderful surprises that await you.

Love ,
Granny and PawPaw


How many feti are so fortunate to have 3 prior generations worth of experience guiding his/her future even before birth? I am incredibly lucky, but I do not intend on coming out of here. All the drooling, rolling over, etc. sounds like a lot of work. I have it good here, so here is where I will stay if I have any say so at all. On second thought, I am getting really anxious to meet all these people in person that clearly think I'm going to make as good a born person as I am a fetus. Plus, I met this girl/guy on eHarmony and he/she wants to meet in person, so I have to come out for that, at least for awhile.

Also, before I forget, I don't want 1,000 pictures of me. How annoying. I guess if that's what my dad is in to, then hopefully he will teach me to get used to it early. I mean, I've already had my picture taken once and it wasn't that bad.

I am extremely grateful for this letter from my great-grandparents. What's happening here with me isn't an everyday thing. A kid with this much love and guidance in his/her life is somebody destined to do incredible things and be just as amazing as my predecessors (dad excluded, he drinks too much). I am truly overwhelmed and very very thankful for having so many great people cheering me on, 7 months before they will even meet me. That is as good as it gets.

Erin is nice

Well, Happy negative Birthday to me. I should be about -32 weeks old this week, by my calculation. The parents have been totally freaking out, but I'm told that's what they tend to do. Dad has this weird thing going where he feels like if he's not as funny as the people in Juno, then he's not funny at all. Mother Erin just sleeps all the time. Just for grins, I make everything smell bad to her except for Dad's exhaust and a select few food items. She'll never tell him, but I've set it up so that the only smells that don't gross her out are the aforementioned fumes and bean burritos from Taco Bell/Bueno. I have inherited my father's juvenile sense of humor and I just love it. Someday, he'll appreciate what I am doing in here... I can only hope, because it's hilarious.

Looks like the parents are moving at some point. As soon as the house went up for sale, they got a call from a realtor and lots of hits on their website. If you are looking for a house that is not a womb, which is hard for me to picture, you should strongly consider buying this one: 10227bixby.com. If you don't want to, that's just fine... I can go to daycare from 1 week old until I'm six years old... no problem. Don't feel bad. I'll be just fine... I've told them I can take care of myself, but Dad says Mother Erin has never been much for listening, and between you and me, he's a complete idiot himself. My days will be best spent in the care of professionals.

Mother Erin, in case you didn't know, is brilliant. She reads, thinks, researches, exercises, eats, sleeps, and everything else with me in mind. Say what you will about the human race, but watch a mother like Erin care for her child, even before I am born, and you have to be impressed. I can't imagine more dedication to anything than what my mother has to me. Every single minute is dedicated to my well being, and that makes me feel good, even as a pencil-eraser-sized embryo. I know most of my life will be spent taking for granted what my parents feel at this time, but it won't be my fault. That's a hard concept to grasp for anybody. Having such tiny hands and brains, I can't grasp much at all right now. But at some point, someday, it will all make sense. I will understand, eventually, that the commitment my parents made the day they learned about me, if not long before, to give me the same chance their parents gave them, was one of my best days. And then I'll think about my grandparents and great-grandparents, and how they worked to keep this going. I could have been born so many things, in so many different families and places, with so many different situations. But the fact that I am here, amongst open minded, loving, caring, honest, truly good natured people is incredible and something that I will have no choice but to benefit from. It'll hit me that the choice was made by so many people to do the right thing, in my best interest, that led to me being the totally coolest embryo/fetus/infant/toddler/kid/teenager/adult I am. I guess my point is just that so many things could have gone wrong... so many people could have veered off and made the easy decisions, and still could. But, the people that are in my family did not and will not. And while everybody has a chance to be whatever "in spite" of their situation, I will be born into a situation where I am surrounded by family members that always have been and always will be good people, because that's what they were always taught to be. I've been researching on the internet, and I can already tell that that is so, so, so rare. I mean really rare.

My mother cried last week at a dog show when she saw a dog celebrate a victory with his handler. Ridiculous right? Yes. It was. But, being inside her and all, I can share a little insight as to what was going on. First off, hormones. Mo'Er (Mother Erin) has got so many hormones running through her right now, it's amazing. My bad on all of that... But, what got her and my father (secretly) was the purity of the whole thing. I think dogs and their owners are kind of like kids and their parents sometimes. I think parents & dog owners are alike in that they want nothing more for their kids/dogs than to see them truly happy, and nothing makes them happier than that. That whole thing is also reciprocated by the child/dog. At that dog show, in that instance, I could see from this uterus that exact thing taking place... two entities made completely happy by the other's joy. It was overwhelming then and I am overwhelmed now to think about how many people I will have in my life that will be truly happy when I smile, will totally freak out if I laugh, if I'm sick, if I am hungry, etc. The crying was silly, sure, but at the end of the day, I have a mother that is really into this fetus. So much so that when she sees some crazy lady that is as into her dog as mom is into me, she cries, because it reminds her of how much she likes me. I know I sound gay, but that's cool. My mother wants me to be gay anyhow, even though I'm probably not, statistically. Again, I won't completely appreciate you all for some time, because I won't even realize the difference you are making. But someday it'll hit me, and I'll read things like that letter from my mom and I will be in the spot mom and dad are now, thinking about their parents and the difference they made. And I will be so appreciative that they did the right thing and then I will be compelled to take what they and I have inherited and continue to grow the love, honesty, and determination that their families have instilled in their lives. It is very hard to love people, even your own kids, enough to not let your own problems or emotions get in the way. My parents are some of very few who have examples in their lives that have achieved that. It's on them not to screw it up, but I think my chances are really good.

From the Mother of the Fetus

Dear Beautiful Fetus,

It looks like you have been industrious and a tad bit feisty since you got this website running. I have to say I am proud of your creativity and hope your Dad and I will be able to give you a home where you can flourish and pursue the things you love to do. I do promise you though that it will not include having to break up beer bottle busting fights between your father and I. Your father loves beer but I have noticed that his love for beer is definitely taking a second place to getting ready for you and just hanging out with me when I don't feel like going out. You have this special way of making everything your father and I do or used to enjoy doing just not matter as much.

I dreamed about you last night. Between the all the irrational fears of having you in our life that cause me to toss and turn, there was one moment where I saw you. We had wrapped you in a blanket and you had this head of thick black hair. You wanted us to hold you. I am so anxious for once we first get to meet you and hope that I have more dreams about you until then.

I mentioned hair and just wanted to go ahead and apologize. Your hair will likely be out of control. Be assured though that both your dad and I have thoroughly researched hair product and will be prepared to help you fight it. You will not be called Mushroom Head or Pube Head. Both names that your dad and I were called in school.

We are so anxious for you to be here and are going to spend the next 8 months doing our best to get ready for you. There are so many people that already love you that are anxious to meet you as well. Take your time though.

Love -

Your Mommy

Holy shit I have had a really bad day. Incessant whining, constant pain, no appetite, terrible sleep, bad mood, emotional.... my mother is absolutely crazy and I'm not sure how much longer I can take it. If this keeps up, I'm definitely going to be premature. I feel just fine, don't get me wrong. But she doesn't realize how guilty I feel when she goes around telling everyone what a pain in the ass I am. I CAN HEAR YOU LADY. Look, I'm healthy, I'm sprouting body parts faster than I can keep up with, my heart is beating and my NCAA bracket is beating everybody else in this womb. What else do you want? Christ, I need a drink. My only saving grace is that my dad, from what I have overheard, is incredible. He drinks really good beers, makes funny jokes about mother, puts her in a good mood, lets her watch whatever she wants on his new tv, takes her to his favorite barbecue places, and dictates my blogs. Me and this guy are really going to get along.

I've been looking around on the internet a lot lately. Mother Erin's womb has wifi, thank God. I would be bored to tears otherwise, just sitting here braiding my umbilical cord and kicking things while I listen to Mother Erin do therapy with kids who clearly need a dad like the one I'm going to have. That's depressing. So, I put my headphones on and work on the ol' website instead.

Here, I took this with my wombcam:


So anyway, the internet... I've been chatting with some other feti and we have all kinds of questions.

Wait a second... oh no.... Dad had Villanova picked to beat KU in his NCAA bracket and they just lost, so dad just hit Mother Erin over the head with a beer bottle and blamed her for telling him to pick 'Nova. I told him Kansas was going to the Final Four. Maybe I'm already smarter than my parents.

Anyway, I'll finish this later, I have to break up a fight. I'll throw some intermittent nausea at Mother Erin. That should work.

Gotta go, bye.

Erin is pregnant

My alleged father wrote this. He's the one I hope to be the most like when I am born. He likes me more than my mother.
-The fetus

When Erin took the second test last Wednesday, it started to sink in a little more. Each day since, things have gotten more and more real. Erin is going to be the mother of children, just like Bobby Ried's mom. And from what she swears, I am going to be a father of children (hopefully just a child). Erin made her initial visit to the doctor yesterday, where professionals confirmed she is indeed knocked up. It was real to me before, but that made it official. Today, somehow, we already received a bill (a big one) from her baby clinic in the mail, which made this pregnancy instantly tangible. One can only hope the doctors and nurses at this clinic will be as expedient as the folks in Accounts Receivable. I have to think if they knew our history and how small an issue we call a doctor over, the baby clinic would consider turning us down. I will pay the bill, but that will just make me feel entitled to get Erin to call or visit them over every minor issue.

Everything already seems different and I feel surprisingly ready to become the guy I have spent the last couple years making fun of. I have watched a number of guys disappear into the world of parenthood. Parents are truly different species from non-parents. If nothing else, all of the motivators that drive their decisions are completely different, so much so that I often can't even figure out how to communicate with them. They are rarely funny, seldom available, and don't even think I'm funny anymore, which seems impossible. They say things like "that's terrible" and "oh my god" in response to the same jokes they used to love. While I don't plan on being that guy, I also don't plan on doing anything other than what seems right. I'll be as lame as necessary, but only if I feel it's right. I'm not looking to make parenting decisions based on what other people do. In other words, I don't want act like a parent based on what I have seen other parents do. That goes especially for the parents I saw at the mall yesterday. They were terrible parents and their children were terrible too.

For now, Erin and I are trying to focus on what we can control in the present. Erin has really been a champion of baby product research. Perhaps more than her first child, Erin is excited about her first glider rocker, crib, car seat, stroller, bottle, and whatever a moby wrap is. We have even already gone to Babies R Us, an evil evil place if you ask me. It did, however, help me realize where my focus should be. While Erin is taking vitamins and eating or whatever, I obviously need to be saving money. In a matter of minutes, Erin said "we are getting one of these" in reference to several thousand dollars worth of particle board and plastic.

Thus, my first question to the dads I know has been "How much do kids cost?". All answers have started with a laugh, quickly followed by the words "a lot". In fact, I don't think we can afford it. In our current state, if nothing else, money or lack thereof will certainly play a role in our decisions, which is exactly what I would like to avoid if at all possible. We have decided to sell our house and try to put ourselves in a situation where we can live on one income. I don't want to be that stereotypical set of parents that is stretched thin ALL the time. I heard somebody call those people "SITCOM"s the other day, which stands for Single Income Two Children Oppressive Mortgage. I think that's avoidable, but we are going to have to make some serious changes. I'm going to have to re-acquire an appreciation for Bud Light, Branson vacations, boxed lunches, and a number of other things I planned on being "past". I don't think I am so naieve to think that money won't ever be an object. But, I just hope that we can live as much within or below our means as possible.

I don't think our motivation is so much to have enough money for diapers and funny halloween costumes. It just seems like stress from money issues is the hardest thing to deal with for most people, myself included. If we can rid ourselves of luxuries for now and eliminate that stress, then it will be well worth it. We want to make sure decisions regarding our kids are only in consideration of what is best for the kid, and money is no more an object than it has to be. What I'm getting at is that I hope Erin can stay at home as long as she feels like that is what is best. Surely that is a good place to start.

My only hope is that we do everything as well as we can, and that that is good enough. I have never been as nervous about anything as I am about screwing all of this up. That probably sounds dramatic. But I truly know nothing about parenting and right now, it feels like I know little about even being a grown up. I have just a few months to go from being a guy not responsible enough to put up his own laundry to being completely responsible for a new person.

I have a lot of thoughts and questions that I hope I will have the guts and energy to write about. I don't necessarily expect anyone to care, per say. I just want to attempt to express my thoughts and maybe process some things with the help of others that I might not do as well if I just kept it all to myself. Also, I'm easily embarrassed and tend to re-read things like this and immediately delete it. That's a result of inherited shyness and if I expect my child to get over that, I need to as well.