Re: The Boob 2ube

There seems too be far less moments during the day where I can actually sit down and write a blog post and not have it feel like I'm sacrificing time I could be using to have a shower or eat some food that doesn't need to be prepared one handed. My days are pretty much broken up into working, eating, hygiene, sleeping, and of course snuggling with baby Stella (and changing her diapers, spit-uped-on clothes, and making her bottles to produce more spit-up and diaper fodder. Rinse. Repeat.)

One thing I will say about it all is I've become much better acquanted with an old friend called television. I haven't watched it much in the past ten years and I must say things have changed. For example, what ever happened to the good old Iron Chef with it's poorly dubbed commentators and obscure, scary looking secret ingredients. I just walked away from the TV this evening after discovering the secret ingredient on the American Iron Chef was 'puff pastry'. I kid you not. I've got to say I'm a little disgusted with that. In my humble opinion, Iron Chef secret ingredients should either have 4 or more tentacles and contain syllables that can't be properly pronounced using English phonetics. Puff pastry doesn't cut it.

And one more thing... Who the Hell decided Drew Carey could ever begin to replace Bob Barker on the Price is Right?

Anyway, I'm done this TV rant about three thoughts ago. Now for the moment you've all been waiting for... A NEW BABY PICTURE!

When good dares go bad.

So I got myself involved in this little game yesterday hosted by Suzi of "I'll Tell you What it Shwas" fame. It's some crazy 'dares to be performed at work' ordeal that she decided to share with the world at large, and offered a small reward for participating in it. I, being in the world at large, and always in need of a small reward decided to partake in the fun-ness that is "Dumb Dares".

Card 14, dare #1 of the game had the following challenge for me: "Pretend to have a long phone conversation with someone in a foreign language."

I was all set to make a big production of it - this was going to be a fun bit of five minutes on a slow Wednesday afternoon. The folks I work with, it would seem, just aren't big enough geeks to appreciate just how big a geek I really am.

At around 3:00 this afternoon, with everyone on staff present, I made a phone call to a six digit number and proceeded to speak Greedo's lines from the infamous Han & Greedo scene, which took place in the Mos Eisly Cantina in Star Wars IV - A New Hope. I finished my call abruptly (as the scene ends) with a grin of geekish pride, hung up the phone and quitely muttered, "boring conversation anyway". I really felt I had outdone myself.

They all thought I was ordering Chinese for supper.

So I ask... Is it that I'm too much of a geek or that those I work with aren't geeky enough?

Furthermore, should I train them in the ways of The Force?

Chicken, chips, dip, and a can of beer. (and a baby)

German beer! Lowenbrau, to be precise. Tasty stuff.

Today marks my first cold med-free day in a week, and I decided to celebrate with an import and some fatty foods to build up what I lost over the past few sniffly, coughing, fever-filled, miserable days. Stupid getting sick. I've missed my parenting time. Not that I've been skipping on my share of the duties, but I've been doing it through all the coughing, sneezing and blowing of nose (and washing of hands - every time). I dunno... it just sort of took some of the fun out of it.

Not now though. :-)


I'm currently typing this with my daughter curled up on my lap, with a whimsical look on her face (undoubtedly having some sort of movement). It's midnight, I just closed at the mall tonight, and I work again at 9:00 in the morning.

Ask me if I care one bit that I'm about to change a stinky diaper and make 2 oz of formula before putting her down for the night....

(I don't)

blargh

They say gents, in general, handle having a cold much worse than ladies do. In the case of my wife and I this is absolutely true.

I'm pushing a fever of 38.5 Celsius when not hopped up on Tylenol cold, and it would seem breaking said fever is the only things these damn drugs will do for me. My throat hurts, I feel I haven't slept in a week, my head is exploding, I've got chills, and to make matters worse, I'm evidently a complainer.

A very big complainer.

Just one more thing...

On Fatherhood

I probably don't have much time to write this, as it's my shift with the baby and though she's dozing quietly at the moment, it's sure not to last very long - especially considering that I have a post in mind to write. But whatever.



Even if that's not the case though, and she continues to slumber, I'd much rather she were doing so in my arms. I love my baby girl more than anyone could have predicted. She's better than a Lego/Star Wars game designed for the original NES that comes in a package with a coupon on the back for a free can of German beer to drink while playing it.

I love her that much. Maybe even more. That's sort of what I wanted to post about. Over the past 8 months I've had so many people exclaim how this would change my life, and I always took that to mean "more work", "less sleep", and "poopy diapers". How wrong was I? There are those things, sure, but more than that there's this new passion within me that makes me not care about the fatigue or the smell.

I don't even really care that I'm typing one handed currently (frustratingly slow), as I'm cuddling my baby in my other arm. Where my life-stylephilosophy used to be "What can I do for myself without putting others out?" it's swiftly become "what can I do for my daughter? - and nobody better get in my way."


Only now do I realize this is what people were talking about. It's going to be a great 20 or so years, I'd imagine.

Happiest New Years Ever

No amount of baby books, meditating with the force, or hanging around my sister's kids could have prepared me psychologically for the following moment:



She's really truly here. After 4 hours of intense labour she came out into this world the good ol' fashioned "through mommy's bits" way. It was 8:50 PM on New Years Eve when it all happened. My little girl shares a birthday with Jacques Cartier - one of my favourite discoverers. :-)

Where I feared I might be squeamish, I was actually quite amazed at the beauty of the whole process. I watched everything - beginning to end. I wasn't able to catch her, as there was a risk of all sorts of things since she was 4 weeks early. Nevertheless I did "cut the cord" of a healthy, strong, 6 pound, 5 ounce baby.

Cutest. Baby. Ever.