Jonesin' for a Baby

Change Over to New Site

2011-12-27T05:51:00.000-08:00

Just a reminder that I am changing over to Google Sites for this blog. I will keep both as current as possible but beginning in 2012, I will go almost exclusively to Google.

The new site is:
https://sites.google.com/site/jonesinforababy/

Reason for the Season

2011-12-27T05:44:00.001-08:00

Reason for the Season... Merry Christmas

One of my all time favorite things to watch around the Christmas season is A Charlie Brown Christmas which as childish as it is, brings me around to a time when things were simpler; the world was much smaller and more peaceful; and a time when nothing but joy and anticipation were all that mattered.

The greatness that the Peanuts comic strip and subsequent movies was to provide a voice to the laments of adults but through the simplistic and straight-forward minds of children. Children always have a way to mowing through the fluff and getting to the heart of any matter. Never before I have I been perplexed to answer the simplest of questions when they are posed by a child. So as Charlie Brown fights to understand the meaning of Christmas, we too as the audience are forced to think of what Christmas' true meaning is.

Charlie Brown confides in Linus that even with all the hoopla surrounding the holiday with all its merriment, gifts, cards, and trees; he feels depressed during the holiday season because it feels "too commercialized". I too feel the lamenting that has presented itself to Charlie Brown in that we seem to move past the special stories and lives that we are supposed to remember and instead focus on what we are getting and what we are giving others. Why don't we extend the idea of giving to others throughout the year and instead have to be forced to only remember to do so during the snowy-white days of Christmas?

When Charlie Brown expresses his grief to Lucy, she suggests that he take over as the director for the school's rendition of the nativity scene. Why not get more involved in the process and maybe the light will shine through the school play.

As Charlie Brown begins the arduous task to coordinating the other kids, he is even more perplexed in that the other kids seem to want nothing but to modernize the whole scene. This is even made worse when Charlie Brown encounters Snoopy frantically decorating his doghouse for a neighborhood decorating contest. If the problem of commercialization has gone the way of the dogs, what can he do?

Thinking that a Christmas tree can corral the rambunctious kids, he sets off to find the "perfect" Christmas tree... and well, we all know how that turned out. The decorated tree is a far cry from that "perfect" tree we are bombarded with by retailers.

When he arrives back at school he is immediately chastised by the other kids which forces him to question if he really knows what Christmas is all about. He voices his frustration to which Linus says he'll tell him what Christmas is about...

"'8And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 10And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.12And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men.'" Second chapter of the Gospels according to Luke, verses 8 through 14 (King James Version).

"...And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Charles Schultz received a lot of criticism for wanting to quote a bible verse in his Christmas Special to which, I can only hope we would all be so bold, he replied "If we don't tell the true meaning of Christmas, who will?"

Charlie Brown now realizes that Christ is the reason for the season and he, and he alone can overcome the over commercialization of the Christmas season and find the true reason to celebrate Christmas. With his new found inspiration, he takes his tree and runs off to decorate it so that it will fit in for the play.

On his way home, he stops by Snoopy's doghouse and finds that Snoopy has won first place for his decorations. He adds an ornament to his tree which causes it to flop over and he decries that he has "killed it."

The other children, having heard Linus' recitation of the true meaning of Christmas realize that they have been too hard on Charlie, quietly followed Charlie Brown from the auditorium.

Linus goes up to the little tree and gently props the drooping branch back to its upright position, ornament and all; and wraps his security blanket around the tree. After they add the remaining decorations from Snoopy's doghouse to the tree, the kids then start humming the Christmas carol, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing." When Charlie Brown sees what they have done with the tree, he cannot believe his eyes, and the kids give him a rousing "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!" before singing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" as the end credits roll.

What I wish for is for us to realize that there is much more to the Christmas season and that we need to remember to be kind to others and to respect each other's beliefs. Let us continue this warm feeling throughout the year and bring love and tidings to all we encounter throughout the year.

God Bless...

First Lessons... ABCs and 123s

2011-12-24T18:01:00.000-08:00

First Lessons... 123s and ABCs...

My sweet lil' girl, there is so much of this world that I want to share with you and yet you are not even here! I think your Mommy is more than a little tired of my trying to use the projector on her tummy for my teaching lessons but I figure I have you as a captured audience, for the time being anyways.

This world is so full of mysteries that are just waiting for the Daddy/Daughter Duo to tackle but we have the rest of your life to accomplish those goals. I am just a sidekick awaiting his hero to unlock many of the mysteries for me. While I am sure you will think that I am so full of knowledge, your Mommy thinks I'm full of something else (hehehe), please trust me that you will be teaching me just as much! What I want to teach you today for your first lesson are your 123s and ABCs.

I am sure that the concept of 123s and ABCs may be a little lofty for you to grasp at this stage or even much too much for you to comprehend later in infanthood, trust me this lesson is easy to grasp. The lesson is one of wrongs that make a right and the lessons of love...

Hey [baby girl]
One day to get it all right
Two wrong and not enough right
Three words you said in the night
Before we held the fire
High five me brother it's amazing
Her six shooter came out blazing
7 up and coke on the pavement
Ate my heart out daily baby

The one day, the only day, that I have gotten things right so far was the day that I married your mother. It is one of the only days that joy and love shined light into the darkness in which I had been living in. I do not, will not, ever allow you to wallow in the darkness that I had led myself into for a myriad of reasons. I was a lost and scared sheep who had wandered from the flock but your Mom became the shepherd that guided me back to where I was supposed to be. The Lord knows that I have done enough wrong but He has shown me that I can make things right; in creating you! You are already amazing and I know you will take this world by storm by blazing a path to what you want.

Hey I love you, hey I need you,
Hey I want you, do you need me too?
You can count on me, when you cannot see
Let me spell it out plain and simple now
When your number's called;
backs against the wall.
Pick you up when you call;
Be there when you fall

This lesson is that Daddy is here for you and I will always be here for you. I do not know how this connection we have has formed can be so strong even before you came into my arms but know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful bond forged in the strongest of metals and more beautiful that the prettiest of gems.

I am lucky to have had amazing parents, your grandparents, that allowed me to believe in myself, and that only intensified with your Mother, who has allowed me to chase my dreams. At times, I feel like a puppy in a spring sun-warmed field who is chasing everything in front of him because of the pure joy that it gives him just to be in the chase. To me, that is a thought of pure elation and love in that you have no worries of what passes you by and what you pass by is only something to passed on the way to your goal. I have been blessed with the feeling of a "safety net" so to speak in that I can chase my dreams and I will always have your Grandparents and Mommy to pick me up when I fall. I want you to fall down cause it will only help to show you that I will be there to hold your hand and push you forward. It is those falls, not your successes, that define you. The common saying is that it is how you react when you fall that defines you but I believe that it is a path of shattered attempts at dreams that ultimately shape who you are; those are experiences and experience is what you are. Destruction along your path should not be shunned but embraced as it is those experiences that challenge you to move forward.

I challenge you to stay in the chase... run at full speed, tongue wagging, cause I'm right behind you.

Singing A B C
You can count on me
123
You can count on me

You can count on me
When you cannot see
Let me spell it out
Plain and simple now
When your numbers called
Backs against the wall
Pick you up when you fall
Be there when you call

I do not know how to explain it to you but just the thought of you brings light and joy into my life that can only be sent from above, Hallelujah. Maybe I am becoming softer as I age but there have been times where the thought of you has brought tears to my eyes. These tears fall like raindrops and I would not dare shelter myself from them. These are tears that I never want to wipe away or hide from. I am having a daughter, I shout from the rooftop, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders but I don't even notice. No, nothing at this point matters but you.

Singing
A B C
Add it up, add it up now darling
1 2 3
Run, Run when you're calling
Hey, A B C
Add it up, add it up now darling
1 2 3

I will be here, always and forever. I will tackle your fears and punch the monsters in the mouth as they present themselves. I see my role as the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz and you, my dear, are my Dorothy and I will protect and guide you along this wonderful brick path of life.

Let's run through the field together... Happily wagging our tails and tongues, not paying attention to anything but that which is before us!

Video of the baby's room.

2011-12-20T18:25:00.000-08:00

Site migration

2011-12-18T16:52:00.000-08:00

All... I am migrating over to Google Sites for my blog and other things. I am hoping that Shannon will begin her own blog which will be featured there along with videos and pictures that are soon to come.

Please visit the site and plan to follow this blog there. For a while, I will maintain both sites but by the first of the year, I plan to exclusively use Google.

Website:
https://sites.google.com/site/jonesinforababy/

All I Want for Christmas

2011-12-18T16:49:00.000-08:00

All I Want For Christmas...

I don't want a lot for Christmas

There's just one thing I need

I don't care about presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

All I want for Christmas is you.

These lyrics mean more to me this year than ever before. Never before have I wished for anything more than having you in my arms this Christmas. As you will find in the coming years, Christmas is a special time of the year; full of merriment and joy. The days will seem shorter but the love in our hearts seems to grow in proportion to the number of Christmas lights that dot the neighborhoods. You will never want for anything as I can promise I will provide for all your needs. There's only one thing that makes this time of year special and I can promise that we will provide that to you. That one thing is the gift of loved ones to spend this time with.

I won't ask for much this Christmas
I won't even wish for snow
I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeer click
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby ( GIRL ) all I want for Christmas is you

While family will surely tug at your heart both in delight and sorrow, remember there can never be a replacement for what they provide. Family struggles as famously depicted in the best of Christmas movies and I can only hope that our times together will provide you with years worth of movie-like memories that you can cherish. Loved ones are provided not only in family but also friends and neighbors. Little one, you will know love from so many people that we will surely have to put all the extra in a piggy bank for you to later cash in. For me, those loved ones also include your “brothers and sister” doggies...

All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
And everyone is singing
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need
Won't you please bring my baby to me
This Christmas season though is tearing at my heart. For one, I can do nothing but think of you and how much this Christmas seems empty without you here. On the other hand, my heart is being torn from my chest in watching your sister doggie, Eve, losing her battle with Cushing's Disease. For as long as we've had Eve, I've done nothing but want for you and her to spend your days together. As you will learn, Eve has meant as much to me as the air we breathe but that pales in comparison to what we'll have together. One wish I have for you is that you will experience unwavering love which is what Eve has given your Mother and I. Your mother believes that Eve is just preparing to leave as a gesture of her love to me so that I will have more room in my heart for you. While I do believe that this is partially true, it is also a fallacy that I don't have a large enough heart for you and many others. Don't listen to your Mother or anyone else who says that Daddy doesn't have a heart. I keep my emotions bottled up and hidden to most but if you get to meet your sister, she will surely tell you that she has experienced anything but the most that love can provide. So little one, there is only one thing I want for Christmas. The one thing that will bring me family and that thing is waiting for you to see. I wish for my babies to meet to share their love. Before my puppy-girl answers her call from above.

Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Oh I just want her for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas is
You

Something's wrong with my package....

2011-12-15T13:12:00.000-08:00

Something’s wrong with my package…

I believe we’ve been misinterpreting Santa’s “Ho, Ho, Ho” this whole time and instead he’s unleashing his anguish and/or fury upon retailers in the form of “No, no, no”.

Never once during my childhood did I receive anything from Santa that I had to wrassle free from the grips of insane packaging. Maybe there was something written in the bylaws or contained within the collective bargaining agreement between those ~~cold midgets~~… errr, I mean elves and Santa that stated something to the effect “we will not subject children of this world to the endless frustrations, to wit: packaging, that come between them and their toys.” We have so much to learn from those from the great white north.

It’s time that I face the so called music (cue the “da da daaaaa” music) and admit that a package or several really, have gotten the best of me.

While continuing to prepare the little one’s room last night, Shannon and I (really one me) decided to remove the toys from the boxes in which they came. All started with the great intent to keep the rabble and mess to a minimum but when I finally tore into the first box (an infant activity squishy ball thingy?) I realized I was in over my head.

First of all, it’s a damn squishy ball thingy so why does it need to be secured inside its box like it contained the secret nuclear launch codes? Seriously, four of those little twist ties that have been twisted into place by some rouge machine set on the Rubik’s cube algorithm for parent failure. At first, being the kind and patient soon-to-be father that I am, I set about undoing the twist ties but when I could not get my fingers into the impossibly small area between the ball and the package (insert obscenely juvenile joke here), I did what any father would do and set upon unleashing hellish fury upon said packing.

This Box Received Minor Damages

One look at Shannon’s face, a mix between awe at the raw power at which I tore open the packaging (like that of strongmen tearing phone books in half) and the horror that my patience had been worn so thin this early on, and I realized that I had been bested. The retailers must have some hidden camera inside these packages so that, not unlike those TSA screeners, they get to laugh at you when they get to peek behind your façade. I am not one who succumbs to defeat and after the dust settled… Adam: 1 and Baby Toy Packaging: 0.

Now I can only hope that Shannon does not swaddle our baby in a similar fashion or else I’m destined for a future of a lot of uncomfortable explaining to do.

Colombian Drug...

2011-10-05T13:32:00.000-07:00

Yawn, slurp, yawn, slurp… That’s usually how my days start out as I stumble into the office with a cup of coffee in my hand and wiping sleep from my eyes. I think that getting just too few hours of sleep has become a national obsession and too often we are proud of making it on so few hours, but not today. I am dragging like a turtle’s tail in quicksand and no matter the concoction I pour into my system; it’s not doing me any good. Am I doomed to suffer this same fate in a few short months?

The number one complaint I hear from those already burdened with little ones is that I am destined for little to no sleep for the first few months. Does this mean my life is about to turn upside down? In a sense yes!

It seems like only yesterday that I was able to sustain myself over long periods of nocturnal bliss be it in celebrating the week’s end at the bars or simply staying up late with friends discussing the eternal non-sensical solutions to life’s difficult problems. So how is it that I have spiraled so far from that ability to thrive off of underwhelming sleep? Marriage.

You see, I believe I married a creature that can only be partly explained if you understand the story of Rip Van Winkle. As I understand it, whilst most little girls played with Barbie and other dolls, Shannon was mystified with the story of Mr. Van Winkle. You see, Shannon is not a night creature nor is she really a daytime creature as she falls somewhere in between. She is of the mindset that her best hours involve those precious few hours when she is awake versus normal waking hours for the dead. After ten years of bliss with her, I believe I have picked up her propensity for lengthy nighttime paradise which has sent me on my downward spiral.

As of late, I have been getting up early in preparation for the early callings of the little one to either feed, change, or soothe back to sleep. Ok, the only callings that are awakening me now are the callings, or baying, of our three dogs as they whine to go outside. This pit stop during my sleep cycle is only one reason why the bags under my eyes are packed for a lengthy retreat.

These early mornings are not my only undoing; no it is the afternoons that wear on me like a suit of heavy lead. After lunch, I am only able to pour myself back into my chair to await the closing bell like that of a prize fighter waiting on the 10^th round bell to ring. So what I am to do?

Obviously, extra sleep is an option but then you run into that slippery slope of when you are getting just enough sleep or the dreadful and oftentimes worse option of oversleeping. So that option may only work when I can set a relatively predictable schedule which I hear with children is impossible. Another option would be for me not to get up so early to “excuse” the dogs outside but I believe my flooring would be none too happy and neither would Shannon.

Bah I say. I think I’ll just stock up on that magical drug from Columbia and tackle this problem like any junky. Two cups of coffee in the morning and I am only just beginning to feel that wonderful euphoric feeling and feining for more. Is there a program at Betty Ford to solve my addiction?

Into the closet...

2011-10-04T09:48:00.000-07:00

I have had the first run-in with something that I do not necessarily like about the baby. What did he just say, you might ask but it’s okay it is nothing to do with our future bundle of joy herself but what she wears and her apparent lack of sympathy to her parents’ frustration of her closet’s inability to provide decent organization.

This weekend, we decided that we must do something with the clear lack of organization the nursery’s closet has in store for us. Thanks to the builders and the previous owners, all we were left with for a closet system were two highly placed shelves and one lengthy closet bar for hanging clothing. If I am supposed to read into the obscenely large amount of clothing that Shannon has decided to purchase for our girl, then I must be able to foresee that the single closet bar would quickly become as useless as a boat in any of the current Texas lakes.

So in order to avoid the eventual extinction of any foreseeable organization within the nursery, Shannon and I moseyed on down to the local hardware store (Home Depot for those that care) to purchase the means in which to fix our quandary. This adventure started off with good intentions but as things are, they quickly dissolved into lengthy discussions involving much head scratching and outright confusion.

You see, we thought that developing an organizational diagram in our heads would surely suffice as a model for what we would need. It was seemly obvious that our little girl would only have a limited need for shelving, drawers, and other such devices. Quickly we soon figured that our plan was destined to failure once we gazed upon the hundreds of options in closet organization.

I never would have guessed that there would be such an abundance of shelving sizes, options, and what not that it would necessitate me writing a dissertation on “space management issues and concepts in the modern American home closet.” We in our hour of hopelessness and utter despair must have looked as confused to the staff as turtles to a rodeo and as such we were peppered non-stop with questions on if we needed help or even transportation to the local mental care facility. While I did consider their last request as an option out of my pickle, I ultimately decided not to accept such an offer as it would have left Shannon stranded and all alone at a time of great adversity (appealing though that is… Haha).

After an hour of picking out the various features we would probably not use and loading our cart to an unsafe level, Shannon discovered a prepackaged box for small closet organization. This kit consisted of the mounting brackets, shelving, and other odds and ends needed to complete the transformation. We decided that since we will not be purchasing a dresser to put into the nursery that a four drawer system that hooks into the closet system would be the best decision to add as an addition to the closet system. With our purchase complete and my wallet drained, we headed back home for the installation.

Never would I have guessed that a relatively straight forward boxed system entail an entire afternoon of frustration and heavy cursing such as I encountered. Luckily, I have read that our baby girl, up to that point, could not hear such frustrations and would only hear the innards of her momma. Unless, her first words involve a diatribe about the closet’s mother and the unnatural way it was conceived, I can only assume that my rants went unheard by little forming ears.

Mistake number one in this whole ordeal was that I decided that we needed to keep the permanently installed closet shelves to hold anything of substantial weight and also to prevent me from completely dismantling drywall and the like as I tried to gently coax the shelf from its mooring. As such, Shannon and I had the parameters under which we were supposed to work within.

After hours of dissatisfaction and disappointment, we were finally able to step back and view the monstrosity that we created. What we did find out was that there is no rationale behind the various sizes and lengths of baby clothing articles and therefore my preconceived notion that all of her clothing would hang nicely in order went out the window.

I can only hope that what we did will ensure successful organization without any additional help but only time will tell. Baby girl, I do hope you’ll appreciate all that we have done for you thus far… if not, your Grandparents will surely be receiving you for an extended visit! (Okay not really…)

Pictures of the real closet are forthcoming.

Begging... for discipline?

2011-09-30T12:31:00.000-07:00

To say that I’m at least a bit concerned on how I plan to raise our daughter would be an understatement at the very least. With the multitude of books, magazines, and so-called experts out there, just who are you supposed to believe? I am taking nothing for granted nor am I willing to entertain the possibility that I even remotely know what I’m getting into when she does come rolling out of that hospital. So what do I do? Well, that’s simple; I go with what I know.

Those that have kept up with the blog thus far, I am fairly certain you can ascertain that I am a huge dog lover and love my pets as though they were my “real” children. Although I’m fairly certain that these “children” will never incur the debt that our soon-to-be two legged child! As the dog handler that I am, I will put my dog training skills to the test as my measuring stick (assuming that the dogs don’t run off to play fetch with said stick) on how to raise our daughter.

I raised two of our three pups from puppyhood to semi-well behaved adulthood. Each had their own special “issue” which I had to find a way to curtail but in the grand scheme of things, none of those issues were any real concern. Well, there was that issue of Ziggy (our black lab and the youngest) who decided that our loveseat looked tasty. One would think that after pulling off and chewing up the skirting around the bottom of the couch, he’d have figured out it tasted nothing like chicken or whatever other ingredients are found in dog food these days. Oh no, he decided that the cushions must have been the hen house and went on an exploratory mission to find out how many licks it took to get to the center of a tootsie, err, I mean center of the cushion. He obviously found out but to this day, he has yet to share that tidbit of information with his dad, even with prodding. So I guess there may be some validity to the notion that the youngest of the brood is often the worst, although I disagree since I am obviously the best child my parents ever produced. I can only assume that any destructive nature our child will assume will be met with loving eyes as we have already experienced such terror.

Eve, the eldest of our clan, has begun to have potty issues. Well, I guess it’s not so much an issue for her as she does her business (#1) whenever it pleases her. This is in line with most old folks and can easily explain the soaring profits of the Depends Company but the issue is that she’s been trained to go outside. Being the loving parents that we are, we are willing to overlook the issue of our floors seemingly becoming the great outdoors because she is, after all, getting on in years. I just hope that when my parents (both of which I would certainly use the term elderly with… Hahaha) come to visit, they don’t pick up the same habit which will certainly be greeted with much wrath on my part.

Lastly, Oscar, the middle child and the runt of the brood, is a known risk to fingers, hands, and calves as was evident in the fact that he decided that one of my mother’s friends’ calf looked like prime steak ready for the dinner table. After screams and a multitude of inappropriate words for children were uttered, we figured out that he just didn’t like this friend due solely for her attempts to jab at his father, an avid Texas A&M supporter and former student, as she is a Baylor alum.

Therefore, if I can put up with these behavioral problems surely nothing can or will surprise me when our bundle of joy presents herself in January, right?. What I am worried about is becoming firmly entrenched around her little finger as I am with my pups.

This morning is a great example as Eve has decided the last few days to utilize her puppy powers of cuteness, big brown eyes, and cute wagglely tail to get what she wants from me. As I attempt to put my socks and shoes on, she wiggles her way in between me and those items using her powers as a ploy to either A) get me to stay home and spend my days rubbing her ears, B) get me to give her treats before I leave the house, or C) all of the above plus a walk to walk off those unnecessary calories. How am I supposed to say no to such obvious daddy worship? Well, I can’t which is obvious by the growing bellies of our pups and I relinquish all control to them. Am I headed for disaster?

What say you diligent followers?

Meant to be...

2011-09-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

Today, I’m going to embark upon a journey to offer my baby girl tidbits of advice that has helped me throughout my trials and tribulations. I’m only hoping to help guide her path in this world and assist her in avoiding the many pitfalls that can snuff out dreams like the last bits of daylight at the ends of the world. These pitfalls were there for a reason, unbeknownst to me at the time, in order for me to gather the courage to move forward towards my ultimate destiny.

May be it didn’t turn out like I planned, but I’m sure glad it did…

Don’t bemoan those circumstances you will surely encounter along your path cause they were meant to steer you back upon the path that was chosen for you. Many don’t believe in fate but it is a true force of nature and you are destined for big things. The paths you take, you do have a choice in, and fate only helps guide you towards your ultimate destiny. As I get older, I have come to realize this more and more. Your Mom and I were destined for each other as she is no doubt my soul mate; fate brought us together.

I don’t know how I got here; it’s crazy to think that one little thing could have changed all of it.

During my last years in the Army, I was trying to decide what path I would take; would I stay in or should I pack my bags and seek “freedom” that only I thought was out there. Fate had already begun working her plan and I didn’t even know it. Your mom and I met while I was home on leave after having spent time in the Middle East. I was not looking for any relationships but I found the last one I would ever have. I have never questioned what love was after that meeting. The self-destructive nature that is my ultimate evil, was there lurking just waiting for the opportunity to rear itself in an attempt to circumvent fate.

All the fights and the tears and the heartache, I thought I’d never get through.

When I finally came home for good, I lost sight of what I had and ultimately ran your Mom off because I was too selfish to realize what I had. Luckily, fate isn’t a fickle creature and brought us back together a short time later. That short period we were separated was the best thing for us as I was forced to grow up and realize what I had in front of my face. I have never lost sight of that again. That was by far, the worst time in my life, one I would never want to experience again, and something I needed to experience to bring me to this.

And the moment I almost gave up, all lead me here to you.

This is only one example of the strife’s I have faced. Your snares will be different but no less monumental to you. You will wonder what you are doing, whether it is worth the effort, whether you can sustain, or if you will even make it through. The answer is yes, you will come out the other side stronger for it. If I hadn’t had gone through what I thought was the darkest of days, I wouldn’t be coming to the brightest day… the day you are born.

I didn’t understand it way back when, but sitting here right now it all makes perfect sense.

Each day the sun rises brings with it hazards that will test your mettle and your passions. Don’t back down from the fight, I will always be here to prop you back up if you fall. I will offer a guiding hand and a shoulder upon which to cry. I will always stand with you. You are a piece of me, the best of what I am and none of the worst, and as such you can climb any mountain no matter how high.

When you feel you are going to break, know nothing is a mistake.

Doctor, Doctor

2011-09-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

Today was another day of juggling schedules in order to accommodate the doctor’s “schedule”. Which I must say does not always vibe with my schedule nor is it always convenient! Okay, what am I complaining about?

We’ve moved to another doctor’s office that is much more accommodating and, imagine this, does not make us wait an hour for simple things like drawing blood or other “routine” items. Needless to say, that after several appointments of waiting endlessly, we decided to move to another doctor. That move was probably the best thing we could have done in the process thus far.

We now are whisked away to the back to see the doctor with little delay and the staff is tremendous. Today, we didn’t get to see the doctor but instead saw the physician’s assistant and boy o’ boy were we surprised at how wonderful she was.

Originally we were seated in a room that did not contain a sonogram machine, which worried us as we’d brought along a movie studio to document each baby hiccup, movement, and burp. After several minutes of worriment we were taken to the next room which to our relief had the sonogram machine for us to get to see her in all her glory.

The appointment was a routine check-up and we only got a brief sonogram, no 3D or 4D this time, to check in on the baby. All went well and she’s developing as expected.

Well, I guess we’ll and she’ll have to wait for her spotlight moment until the next appointment in a few weeks.

The season for change

2011-09-24T11:25:00.000-07:00

‘Tis the season for change; be it personal change or changes soon to come. Things seem to be setting themselves back on the right path as we fall back into the autumn months. Those of us in Texas are finally being released from the grips of fire and brimstone so that we now can enjoy life outside the confines of an air conditioned building or the throws of sweat soaked clothing.

Normally, the much anticipated foliage color changes are the highlights of any fall outing but you see, that experience is already over here in Texas as a few months ago the change occurred due not to cooler weather but instead dangerous drought, raging wildfires, and excessive heat.

As the season changes so does everything around us. Around the country, small towns blossom to life on Friday nights and Saturday afternoons as crowds hurry to football games and to fall festivals. While spring is often thought of the time for things to blossom and grow, I disagree and believe that fall is that magical time of the year. Things simply slow down, people become merrier, and life seems to renew itself. To me there is nothing more magical than a cool, crisp fall day when you can toss a football around with your friends or roast marshmallows over a fire with loved ones. Sure the days get shorter as nightfall seems to envelope the world shortly after lunch but my happiness only appears to grow during this time.

Shannon is an all too perfect example of change as she morphs into an ever-growing baby vessel. It seems not too long ago that she was only just beginning to show the signs and symptoms of pregnancy (yes, I said symptoms as pregnancy seems not too far removed from carrying a parasitic being that would normally be treated with medication or some such medical procedure). This is a change that I have readily accepted with open arms and anticipate each change with my own bated breath. Now in our 6^th month of pregnancy, there is no doubting that Shannon is pregnant as evidenced by the basketball that has wound up in her stomach (and I thought she didn’t even like basketball). And with those changes, fall has become an even more fascinating time to me and one I will remember for the rest of my days.

Changes are so fraught with turmoil that instead of being celebrated, they are often loathed like visits from the in-laws or the NCAA’s football BCS system. Though change is often times good, it does not always happen without strife.

As our parenthood adventure nears, the thoughts of change that will surely affect us seem insurmountable at times. No longer will Shannon and I be able to go to wherever the wind blows us as we will surely have to lug the little one with us. The freedom that comes with being child-free is at once breathtaking all the while it leaves you empty. The days of spending Saturdays mindlessly watching football will be curtailed as fatherly duties will come first whether that may be dance recitals or afternoon tea parties. This fact does not escape me and my selfishness towards doing what I want will instead be dictated by what she (Hannah or Charlotte) wants. Not only have I signed off on the changes in my plans but I have fully embraced and welcome them as not a bother but as a new adventure. Only this new adventure will feature a new heroine with her daddy as her sidekick.

‘Tis the season for change and you either accept it or go willingly or you get swallowed up in it as it will no doubt stop for no one.

Too much of a good thing.

2011-09-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

There is no doubt that Shannon and I are becoming more and more prepared each day for end of this arduous race toward parenthood. This race has tested each of us in our own way and as one would expect, we’ve run the race in very different ways (although if anyone has seen Shannon’s running style, I think you’d agree that such flailing arms and discombobulated legs moving in such a disconjointed way does not qualify as running).

Shannon’s approach has been much more methodical and well prepared. As she says, “She’s been waiting on this day her whole life” and she has wanted nothing more than to have a family. She has not only read every conceivable book out there but could probably fill several volumes herself with all that she knows. She is going to be the perfect Mom as long as the kids don’t ask for running tips or advice.

I myself, on the other hand, have not prepared as well. When the initial stages of family planning started, I eagerly jumped on board. To that end, my family ideals consisted of several of the “four-legged” babies running around the house and no diapers to change. This is not to say that I was wholly unprepared for the eventual but I needed extra time to grow up myself. I think I’ve finally reached that stage in my life and it’s off to the next venture. And well, I guess I can check that off the board and begin to start really preparing myself for the meaning of fatherhood.

I do think I’ve got a good grasp on how to handle impending fatherhood, I mean I’ve spent hours watching Ozzie and Harriet and Leave it to Beaver and things haven’t changed that much since then, right? Ok, ok… I get it, I need more preparation than those two could ever give me but there’s something nice about the nostalgia of that time. The way family time wasn’t forced and time just seemed like it operated much slower. As I see it, family is very important until things get out of control. Let me explain.

The saying is that children are a blessing but let me give you the competing view as I saw it just last week. Anything can be good as long as it is done in moderation but anything in excess can be just the opposite.

While out shopping last weekend, I saw my undoing or the kryptonite to the future of my health. What did we see, you ask? Well, how about a set of triplets being pushed around in some contraption formerly known as a stroller. This monstrosity of a stroller was akin to a city bus and, I kid you not, it had a steering wheel for a handle! At first glance, I thought this was simply a device kindly added by store employees to gather up all the slack jawed and glassy eyed husbands to transport them to their vehicles after a woeful day of being drug around the various children’s stores only to be tasked with handing over the plastic in their wallets.

I believe that I heard a woman shriek as the stroller passed by but I later learned or was told by Shannon that the shriek escaped my lips. I am not a doctor but I do contend that it is physically impossible to make such gasps when the lower mandible is resting between your feet. I immediately fell to my knees and prayed to the Holy One (also known as the Stork who delivers babies to your doorstep) that upon his visit to our house that no such harm will be done. I am half tempted to paint my door with lamb’s blood so that “the evil” will pass by our house and proceed down the block to some other poor soul.

Shannon assures me that no such harm will befall me but in case it does, you have my blessing to put me down like a lame mule! J

Fashion Police

2011-09-06T12:04:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I decided that I’d be a good soon-to-be father and attend a “Shannon baby shopping outing.”

As we arrived at our shopping destination, I swear I felt that the earth tremble and shake only then to realize that it was my knees that simply were buckling beneath me. Suddenly, my wallet felt of lead and refused to leave the car for fear of being taken advantage of by a pouting pregnant lady and a store full of over exuberant sales people. I am in firm belief that those smiles are not a warm welcoming smile meant to alleviate any fears I have at becoming a father but rather the smile of the Cheshire cat who welcomes a delicious mouse into his lair. Finally, I was able to coax my wallet from my vehicle and placed it in a relatively safe place, my back pocket although I did still feel like an Alice in Wonderland instead of Adam in Blunderland.

So in I waltzed trying my dangedest to be oblivious to the dangers that were only an overly cheery smile away to protect my beloved from the harms that awaited her. In reality, I think it was the ball and chain shackling my heart to hers that ultimately forced my hesitant feet to press on with the mission. Now, I will say that while I was hesitant, at best, I was excited for all the monstrosities to fashion that awaited me.

I don’t know that if my wanting of a boy affected my aversion to feminine clothing or not but I kept finding myself wandering off to the little boy section for memory’s sake. It may be simply that I have yet to grow out of the little boy stage and therefore I was only projecting myself upon the clothing I viewed but I do pine for the days when I can get a awesome outfit for our bumbling baby boy to which I can try to match for family photos that I’m sure Shannon only tolerate.

This is not to say that I don’t find that little girl outfits delightful, it’s just hard to stop your thought process in midstream and I believe that Shannon is having a hard time believing that I’m excited.

Now a note to baby clothing designers, make girl clothing with something other than ladybugs, princesses, flowers, or other ‘cutesy’ things and let’s get some dog items in there! We have looked high and low only to find a few pieces with any sort of dog connection, which for those that know me is very important.

I do seem to recall that I was told that baby clothing was relatively inexpensive but I assure you that this is not the case as I spent more in one outing than I have spent on myself in the last year! So if you don’t hear from me for a while it’s because I’m having to work three jobs to support the future clothing expenses I’m sure I need to anticipate in the future.

Kicking around baby issues

2011-09-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

While most parents try to absolve their children of any inherited faults, I find it highly irresponsible not to punish those bastions of lost sleep their intentionally produced transgressions. What transgressions you ask? Well, the kicking of their parents for one.

Our little fetal parasite has seen fit to begin kicking her parents at every opportunity as to say that she mightily disagrees with most things that we say or do. An example may help clarify the issue at hand.

Just last week, Shannon and I were having a lengthy discussion about child-rearing procedures and we came to that delicate issue of potty training. Shannon seemed to believe that potty training should be conducted in such a manner as to seek highly favorable results as evidenced in the hordes of baby books she has acquired. My stance was that we should afford our child the opportunity to learn from her sister and brothers. As such, I began to measure the door for a suitable doggy/baby door so that the little one would be easily allowed access to the backyard. At the very mention of this stupendous (Shannon said the idea sounded the same as stupendous only without the ‘endous’ and replaced with ‘id’… This gives you ‘stupid’ for those of my knuckle-dragging friends) idea, the baby gave Shannon a sharp kick to her groin! Now, I say… I will not stand for such insubordination from a being only measuring approximately one pound! But, she decided not only to make her point known but to repeatedly announce her displeasure with repeated kicks.

I was then subjected to those kicks too as Shannon immediately shoved my hands around her belly. I would not be surprised to find that our baby may develop into a world renowned soccer player based solely upon the force upon which she exerted her displeasure into Shannon’s nether regions. Needless to say, I “felt” the message loud and clear that our baby will not be subjected to outside potty training. I will admit that feeling that first ‘bump’ against Shannon’s belly was one feeling that I will never forget and I can’t wait to feel more such movements.

Another discovery I found this week places me not only in the expectant fatherhood area but in the exuberant father realm as well.

As Shannon and I turned the page and began her 21^st week of pregnancy, we had another doctor’s appointment where our hope was that we would finally find out the sex of the baby. Unless you are the knuckle-dragging type discussed earlier, you should by now have realized my overuse of the pronoun ‘she’ to help you determine that a discovery was made.

We have in fact found out that we are officially having a beautiful baby girl. While the use of ‘beautiful’ is often used by parents when describing their own children, sometimes we, the friends/family, of those parents are forced to use the same term when gazing upon a ‘beautiful’ wildebeest (not so attractive baby) all the while gritting our teeth. Ok, ok… I am exaggerating a bit as I have yet to come across a baby resembling a wildebeest outside of the movie “The Lion King”.

I can proudly proclaim that ours is in fact beautiful because we were able to see her clearly through the wonderful advances in technology. She is gorgeous and according to the doctor, long legged and skinny, which means she only got one of my traits. No, not the long leggedness but skinny… Oh, wait (looking down)… never mind.

With her propensity to kick and her gift of long legs, I do foresee quite the future for her. Does this also mean that my future holds an exorbitant amount of money spent since most ladies, even little ones, require an abundance of clothing and shoes? Two women in the house against me without any backup save for two male puppies? Oh Lord, give me the strength to produce a boy the next time around! LOL

Operation Control Impulses

2011-08-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

Again, control your thoughts you dirty readers. I am not speaking of any of 'those' impulses!

Certainly one of the rights of passage for one to ensure that the proverbial ‘corner has been turned’ from child-like behaviors to adulthood is that pesky issue of impulse control.

This society is facing a minor crisis in that we as Americans find it almost impossible to control our impulses. Be it the late-night infomercial spending sprees, the scandalous adulterous behavior found in conjunction with various online websites, or simply not able to control yourself from buying that oh so tempting candy bar while in line at the grocery store.

This has become such an issue that it has become a recognized mental disorder amongst the wacky world of psychologists and others who proclaim various treatments… for the low price of 4 monthly installments of $39.95.

So why on earth is impulse control an issue for an expectant father, you may ask? Well let me explain the recent outing my normally frugal wife and I experience last weekend.

With my recent promotion at work, I now get to experience the pleasure of working ‘shift’ hours and thus have changed my normally scheduled weekends to that of Sunday and Monday being my days off. So naturally, the only coordinated time off we have currently is that of blessed non-working Sabbath, Sunday for those using layman’s terms.

As such, we decided to delight ourselves with a Sunday movie at one of the local malls. As a side note, we saw the movie The Help and I would highly recommend it to others. After finishing the movie, Shannon decides to drop the ‘bomb’ on me by asking if we could stop by one of the national baby box-stores. Much to my dismay, I was unable to resist the pouty-lipped pregnant one and fight as I may; I ultimately turned the steering wheel in that direction although I do admit that there was an electronics store in the vicinity.

Now mind you that we have already registered for every conceivable gadget known to baby but I guess the ‘baby vehicle’ wanted to see if there was anything we possibly could have overlooked although I ensured her that we had registered for all we needed plus the partridge in a pear tree but she was undeterred. Luckily I am in a profession in which ‘glazed’ is a popular term cause that is exactly what happened to my eyes as we strode in to the store.

While she was basking the glory that is everything baby, I was bound to find the nearest exit or anything resembling masculinity to reclaim what I must have lost years ago. As we finished with our perceived window-shopping trip, we (although she is to really receive the credit for the find) stumbled upon one of those scarce deals that parents love to find and make it all but impossible to ignore.

What we found was a stroller designed to compete with the one we had originally envisioned for the wee one. The original stroller we pined for was the Baby Jogger City Mini due to its various features of convenience and usability. What we found was that Britax, known for their outstanding safety ratings, had devised a new stroller to steer people, like me, away from our wants into their new B-Agile stroller.

This stroller is the chicken’s cluck, the rooster’s crow, or the mother-to-be’s smile in that it has all the bells and whistles and is certain to make this man happy.

What made this an issue of impulse control was that there was never any intention on purchasing a stroller in the near future but instead to wait until the time got closer for baby birthing. So instead of me only being a willing participant to a window shopping spree turned into an issue of me relinquishing control of the plastic contained within my wallet.

Now I must admit the deal we got was pretty spectacular in that we not only got the stroller but also a baby car seat and extra base for $200 less than what we would have paid to get the stroller we had originally intended. I like most other domesticated male members of society still don’t quite understand the logic of spending X amount of dollars in order to save Y amount.

So I put to you other men out there, what impulses have you been wrangled into because of parenthood? Let it also be noted that I never did make it to the electronics store.

Dogs in Toyland

2011-08-20T08:59:00.000-07:00

So as I ponder about toys for our soon-to-be ankle biter, I am forced to realize that any toys we may get will have to pull double duty. One will be the obvious time spent as a baby’s toy and well, the other… as a dog chew toy.

I realized just how much this was true when one of Shannon’s friends came over to spend the night with her four children in tow. As with most children, they did not readily want to accept that our house is a house that does not currently cater to their “kind” and no amount of reasoning would get them to accept that no toys were needed to have fun in our home. I mean, doesn’t everyone enjoy spending some good quality time reading a book, talking about the arduous day at work, and other mind stimulating activities?

Obviously the answer was a resounding NO! So being good future parents, we gave them some dog toys to play with. After explaining the wonderful benefits of such things as rawhides, pig’s ears, and other tasty morsels the children’s teeth brushing habits will no longer be the same. I doubt their Mother will be buying such devices as I got quite the scolding for giving them such things.

So with grooming devices nixed from the list of things to play with, I gave them the next best thing, dog toys.

Our house is loaded down with a plethora of these toys such as the completely ‘un’stuffed fox, lamb, and some other creature that only God would recognize since it is missing most of its hair, face, and other bodily protrusions. These toys were taken too, well like a kid in a candy store and probably saw more action in that one day/night than they had in the previous years.

What is of interest is how eerily similar the children and dogs played with the same toy (sometimes played with together for more enjoyment). For example, the ‘un’stuffed fox found itself in the deadly grips of two little ones who commenced to yanking and pulling and otherwise playing tug-a-war with the poor creature. I thought somewhere in the Geneva Convention such torture, also known as the “rack”, had been banned and surely no one has used such a device since the Inquisition Days (so maybe they are reading but just not the right kinds of books). It goes without saying that the fox gave up some good secrets during such torture but none of that information proved useful to the children who quickly abandoned it for other toys.

This same technique is used by the dogs surely to gain valuable knowledge on where the other dog’s treats are hidden with the same likely effect.

Next up was the fetch ball which turned into a dangerous game of catch inside the house. Several broken items later, we figured out that this was probably not the wisest of decisions and retired the 2011 Jones House Homerun Derby for good.

When all other sources of fun were dismissed, we introduced them to the exciting world known as the “backyard”. The kids seemed to enjoy this and thankfully (lucky for us) the Texas heat zapped them of any unnecessary energy leaving the adults to return to sanity.

How to prepare for the unexpected?

2011-08-18T10:48:00.000-07:00

Can one ever really prepare for the life-changing event of having children? I know there’s really no way to prepare for the “suck” to use an old Army adage (not that I’m saying having kids will suck but let’s face reality that it ain’t gonna be a stroll through the park nor is my Fall football watching ritual ever going to be the same) But I do believe that you can set yourself on the correct path by doing a fairly common thing…

That one thing (congers up the thought of Curly from City Slickers) is becoming the "Dogfather”. Cue the theatrical and Italian music. By the Dogfather, I simply mean becoming a parent to those loveable four-legged creatures that, not unlike children, can become the bane of our existence.

This fall, Shannon and I will have been ‘parents’ to our beloved beagle, Eve, for 9 years (or 63 dog years, if you’re counting) and this summer we’ve had our mini-dachshund, Oscar, for 5.5 years and our lab, Ziggy, for 4 years.

While I can’t say that owning dogs is comparable to owning (maybe raising would be a better term to use but there’s always that upside of indentured servitude also known as child labor) children; it is at the very least similar in the duties it entails.

First, dogs (or at least ours) are known to literally cry out loud for their meals. When I get home each day, they recognize that time as the time when they normally get fed (forget that my schedule recently changed so they now DEMAND to be fed when I get home versus their old ‘normal’ time an hour later). While I would normally prefer to come home to dogs that only wish for their father’s time and attention; no instead, I get dogs who could care less that I’m home only that I ‘bring’ dinner home with me. So I believe I’m up for a crying baby wishing only to be fed… although I’m sort of off the hook for the first while since I can’t ‘physically’ feed the baby myself (thank you Lord for evolution).

Secondly, our dogs do not seem to wish to abide by normal protocol of sleeping through the entire night. No, instead Shannon and I rotate nights that we have to get up with the dogs, in the middle of the night mind you, to let them go out and go potty… or in Eve’s case to eat bugs or anything else that had the misfortune of falling in our backyard. Therefore, the middle of the night wake-ups will already part of our normal routine. I wonder if we can’t potty train the baby to poop outside with the dogs which would kill two birds with one stone (must check the dog training book for tips).

Thirdly, our dogs fight for our attention. Okay, in reality it’s only Ziggy who fights for my sole attention as he has the frustrating and annoying habit of licking any exposed limb to death if, God-forbid, you love on any of the other dogs (this I believe will benefit me when the baby decides to drool all over since I don’t think there’s too much difference in spittle). He has taken to moping if his Daddy doesn’t want to play with him (child pouting and dog pouting, again not much difference although one is cuter… the dog J) but in the end I always relent to his actions.

Lastly, is the feeling of powerlessness when they are hurt and can’t tell you what’s wrong. This, Shannon and I had experience our fair share of and is the worst thing to deal with. I can’t even begin to think how much it’s going to hurt when our lil’ one is hurting/sick and we are powerless to do anything about it without the excellent care of a physician. Maybe our Veterinarian can give us some good recommendations?

Seriously though, how do you parents deal with this? I’m in the profession of helping people and my mentality is to go into an issue and attack the problem to get a resolution but how can I do anything if I don’t know what to do? Hopefully, I’ll pick up parenting with relative ease or if not, my family and friends will get many ‘a frantic phone call to help me decide what to do.

So does having doggies prepare this future father for the upcoming journey? You bet!

Waiting... Waiting... and More Waiting

2011-08-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

This week marks 19 weeks since we created life, which still amazes me and makes me appreciate life for what it is that much more. It also marks one of the slowest journeys I have traveled… Let me explain. From almost the date of conception, we have known about our bundle of joy and with that knowledge all the joys and pains that come with expectant fatherhood.

We have already gone through several sets of names, cribs, shopping trips, other possible and suitable father figures and yet we are still only shy of half way. It’s not that I’m complaining about the process because I would fully expect such trials and tribulations but surely most other soon-to-be fathers don’t begin this process till much further along. And, I am not known for my patience and so patience is not a virtue to me; no, it’s a waste of time!

With that, Shannon started ‘showing’ fairly early which then placed us in the predicament of having to tell everyone how far along, when the baby was due, and the process of how the baby was conceived (no not like that but instead the medical procedures that were necessary through the specialists… I still contend that I really didn’t make the baby but instead she and the nurse did).

Although she started showing early, she really didn’t look any different to me other than she may have eaten a monster burrito instead of her dainty ‘woman’ food J.

Then last night happened. She walked in the door and BAM it, for the first time, struck me that she was REALLY pregnant and it was quite evident. She looked absolutely adorable (brownie points for the day) in her black and white dress but man-o-man was she showing!

I must admit the truth in that I never really believed all the hype over how pregnant women ‘glow’ when pregnant but last night I finally saw the ‘light’.

I am eagerly awaiting the day when I can start to feel the kicking and other baby movements.

Tech Fail - Tech Sucks Life from Man

2011-08-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Technology, you wonderful gift to today’s society in the form of constant frustration, headaches, and for giving us the exact reason we need to jump from the cliff but those are just reasons to start this blog. While I have marveled in how far you’ve gone (grown) over the years, I am also still amazed at just have far you’ve regressed too.

In a world where my cell phone can complete more tasks than the average human can (although I suspect many a’ child can outperform the vast majority of adults) why is it that we can’t have fail proof technology?

For example, last week while I slept peacefully and dreamt of days of old (days prior to hunny-do lists, any work responsibility, and when my priorities were juvenile at best), I was awoken by an unhappy pregnant lady (that’d be my wife and not some “Goldilocks” who wanted to test the porridge) because of an over-active smoke alarm.

The smoke alarm must have needed some additional attention and coddling this night because it set itself out to be annoying in the way that only smoke alarms can, by constantly chirping. This chirping, not unlike crying babies (so I’ve heard), may very well be the most horrible sound in the world at that exact hour when sleep finally finds you. So as I stumbled from my bed (half dazed due to copious amounts of Tylenol PM to drown out the snoring from three annoying dogs and perhaps one pregnant lady) I proceeded to climb a ladder, which I must ensure that I explain to my wife how dangerous this act is and therefore I must be rewarded for such a brave act, and tear the little beast from the ceiling. Although I don’t think I can complete these same steps with a baby but I guess we’ll see when that test arrives this winter. I think I must heed the advice I’ve seen somewhere about testing smoke detectors and changing batteries to avoid such situations.

As a side note, why does technology seem to fail when you need it to work the most? Luckily, this piece of “technology” didn’t fail at a time when it was most needed (fire or when I cook and proceed to burn everything) but seriously why must fail at the most inopportune times?

Then, for those who sit idly by and await my every word and posting, my laptop craps out on me this weekend which only helped cause the delays in which postings get posted (how many times can I use “post” in this post?).

Seriously, why do we spend so much money on technology when it only seems to last for a few short years and is constantly bypassed by the latest and greatest? This weekend, I found myself staring into that black hole abyss also known as the Blue Screen of Death that is so dreaded by mankind who’ve become so dependent on technology to fill every void in our lives. I find that the computer repairs needed would surpass the price of a new computer so I guess I’m forced to move on and as with many other things, change is difficult to accept.

Life must go on although without my beloved computer…

On this episode of CRIBS....

2011-08-10T06:51:00.000-07:00

While I may be somewhat of a handyman (at least in my mind’s eye) although Shannon see’s my skills as somewhat lacking in both being handy or in any perceived skills; I pride myself on my ability to put together difficult puzzles without looking at the instructions nor seeking any wisdom or advice from others. What I mean is that who, as a child, didn’t try to force that round peg into the square hole? While most would have been unsuccessful in that venture, I on the other hand excelled at breaking (literally) down the puzzle to ensure the piece that I believed fit did in fact fit.

Surely, Noah wouldn’t have believed that building his Ark inside his home would be a good idea thus he built his outside where space isn’t a premium but why would I follow such wise advice?

Well, in one of my first acts of pending (doom) fatherhood, I decided to put together the crib for Baby Jones by myself. While I must admit that I am rather proud (dusts off shoulders for further congratulations) of my accomplishment to put together the crib without any help or instruction, I do have to admit that I may have been bested by those pesky things called door jambs.

You see, in my exuberance to put together this first true sign of fatherhood, I decided to build the crib where it was most comfortable for me to do so. This of course would be the front room (man cave, time-out room… call it what you will) which in terms of proximity to the baby’s room would be equivalent to Noah building his Ark in the Arctic Circle. So there I am, in all my splendor, slaving away whilst doing such tasks that only can/should be accomplished by such a skilled builder as myself until (cue climatic music) doom struck.

Doom in this case would be when I realize that while the front room may have been comfortable for me to construct such a masterpiece, it also has the luxury of having French doors. So the initial move of the crib proved to be easy. Then I get back to the Baby’s room and realize that the French did not decide to venture any further in my house than that front room thereby leaving me with only American doors elsewhere. And who says the French are adventurous?

Therefore, I was left with the dilemma of either A) leaving the crib where I dropped it, in the dining room or B) dismantling my masterpiece so that it would make it into the baby's room. I did give idea A some serious thought as I think I read somewhere that most baby’s are required to eat so what better place for them to be than in the dining room? But that idea was quickly dismissed by Shannon and I guess pregnant ladies get a fair shot at vetoing most of my “brilliant ideas”.

Therefore I was left with only one option and that was to dismantle what I spent hours slaving over. Luckily, in my master-builder’s eye, I figured I only had to dismantle a portion of the door… errr, I mean crib in order to get it to fit within the confines of a standard-sized door. The crib is now where it was meant to be until Shannon decides that it would look better on the other side of the room…. No wait, over there… no, I think I liked it better back where it was, etc.

Now the next task is figuring out what furniture stays and what furniture goes…

Rain Delay

2011-08-03T09:53:00.000-07:00

No not really any rain up in our neck of the woods but due to my training schedule,the blog will be updated tonight as time permits.

Painting 101 for Dummies (or Daddies)

2011-08-02T10:44:00.000-07:00

Like most good things in this world, all of which must come to an end at some point. Whether it be that huge chicken fried steak from Babes Chicken in Roanoke, that wonderful afternoon nap at work (ummm, for those who read this, that work with me, forget you read that one) or that lovely feelin' of that liquidy stuff that falls from the sky (can't remember the name of that stuff since we have been without it for a while).

The office, or plane or dog fight (which can be taken literally or figuratively) room as dubbed by many a' visitor, has seen it's time and must now fade into oblivion. Fear not for it shall forever remain in our hearts and memories. Alas the season of baby beckons and with it a signaling for change.

Shannon and I have almost (I say almost cause I couldn't care in the least what color we choose so in reality Shannon is the only 'almost' in this equation) decided upon a color in which to paint the walls. We have however decided upon a mural which will grace those soon-to-be painted walls which will either delight us as a family or forever haunt the dreams of our bundle of joy. Which one can only be later decided upon years and years of therapy that are sure to come to rid the baby of any 'Jones' sense of humor or the like which has been the bane of so many spouses who unwittingly marry into the family.

The color is going to be some hue of the color you see here. Speaking of hues, I have an angrily drafted email for whomever decided to grace the home improvement stores with a bazillion different 'hues' of the same dang color. Surely it must have been a woman, who after tirelessly pestering her husband to 'move the couch just a tad that way... no a tad that way... no, I think I liked it better over here' decided to express her evility (not a word but go with me people) by lightening and darkening the same color over and over only to achieve minor differences that are completely lost upon this obviously color blind man!

In addition to the color change, what would a baby's room be without some touch of creativity strewn about the walls? In this case, we've decided upon a tree mural from which the cradle may rock but with a small dose of superglue, I've ensure that no boughs will be breaking so CPS can't be called to the house for us to explain why the baby tumbled (cradle and all) from the tree tops. I would be remiss if I did not note to you that in addition to the mural, we will be adding real (albeit small) bird houses to hang from the tree limbs and somewhere in there I'll sneak in a few characters from the Peanuts comic strip (like you'd expect them not to show up in the room?).

So, the only real question now is when I'll begin the 'season of change' and forever banish the planes from the baby's room.

I was just STROLL(er)ing along....

2011-08-01T09:41:00.000-07:00

Strolling is supposed to be a leisurely activity, is it not? So why then is the decision on which one we should get, have to be such a monumental and arduous task?

A stroller is not simply just a device to get baby from point A to point B but has instead turned into a status symbol for some and for others a considerable safety issue of which first "set of wheels" the baby gets.

Over the weekend, the Rib (Adam gave up his rib for the creation of women, therefor Shannon equates to Rib) and I spent quite a bit of time shopping for our baby's first set of wheels and have come away neither wiser nor on firm footing on which direction to go. We have tested several out (meaning I have just about beaten the sales reps to death with questions and lain holy terror upon the "test" models) and found several that we like and many more that we dislike. While we were waiting for the sales manager to approve our line of credit for the latest driving trend... we decided to hold off and continue our research online.

From that research, I have deduced that each stroller is either "the best stroller I have ever purchased and has been 'blessed from the Almighty" or by the time I read the next review in line "the absolute worst stroller out there, don't waste your money cause surely only the Devil could have designed this death contraption".

So what does an expectant father do?

I did like most cost-sensitive fathers do and I ordered a line of different size cardboard boxes with what surely is infant safe packing peanuts. It may be thought of as unsafe at first but we'll surely recognize the ease in which it would be to simply ship our child off to the doting grandparents versus having to pack up the car with both slobbering baby and dogs in tow.

Seriously, what to do? So I'm just going to play with the ones we seem to like the most and make a "informed" decision with cost and size (folded size to fit in our matchbox sized cars) as the majority holders of said decision. I believe we have narrowed down to two choices and a coin may be the deciding factor between the two.

So if one morning, you find an unexpected package on your front door... please don't be alarmed if there are breathing holes punched in it (cause what kind of father would I be if I didn't even do that)... Just unwrap the package and return the child in the self addressed return envelope!

Any advice or suggestions are welcomed... although not always heeded!