New Year's Resolution

Bec asked me what's my New Year's Resolution. I thought deep and hard and decided it can only be one thing: To Remember that I have a kid. This is pretty important cause I might just drive off leaving him at the comic book store. Nobody thinks I have a kid so why wouldn't I believe the hype? I might have to get like a weird little device that beeps if I'm 100 feet away from the baby. They make those? Butterbean needs a pager.

The other resolution is to remember that my wife is pregnant. I can't expect her to fit in everything. I can't plan on taking her to places without a warning. And she gets the choice part of the sofa. The burden of sacrifices for 2008.

Almost blabbed

Dan calls up yesterday and wants to go to Hooters for the holidays. Who am I to deny him a night away from the wife and kids? We meet up in the tacky tavern. Our waitress is pouring out of her tanktop which is always a nice view. During our drinks, the waitress scrubs down the table and the bottles with an intensity only matched by Dan's stare down her tanktop.

and that's when I almost blow the secret by saying, "Do you do any nanny work?"

I panic that Dan will wonder why I'm asking about nannies.

She gives the polite laugh. And I tell her that Dan needs someone to watch his kids. He kind of backs off my request since his wife wouldn't like a Hooters waitress wiping down the girls after a chicken wing lunch.

He's still clueless which means that I'm not getting five calls a day from him demanding to know if i'm ready to have my life turned into a living hell.

thinking for two

after my painful visit to the dentist for a cleaning, they set up my next appointment for July. I had to think what time would be best for someone to watch the Butterbean while I'm getting sonic scrubbed. Figured around 3 p.m. would be best. Isn't that around the time babies sleep? Now I get to tell mom what's the first day I need her keeping an eye on the kiddie.

Something clean

My brother-in-law came over today so we could install the new dishwasher. This will mean that the Butterbean will have clean bottles and sippy cups. Shame you just can't put the kid inside it, but Whirlpool has a qualm with giving customers what they really need.

Things not to do with a baby

We went to see the Boston Bruins - Carolina Hurricanes hockey match with my brother's family. Will had a fun time at the game, but I kinda realize that I won't be taking the Butterbean to an NHL game. First off the third level seats are rather steep and with zero leg space. I kept fearing Will would tumble if his seat tossed him around. Secondly, because of the ice, the building is really cold up there. Which brings us to part 3) it's too damn expensive. $35 for our section. All that and I have to worry about the kid catching a cold? We'll talk the kid to see the Bulls when the Pawsox come around, but there's very little chance I'll be dragging him to a Hurricanes game until he can at least identify the name and number of 10 active players.

does this mean it sticks?

While leaving my folks house on Christmas night, Will waved at Becky's stomach and said, "Bye bye Butterbean."

Well i could have been this dumb

As I worry about money and Butterbean, I get news that screenwriter Eric Roth has lost all the millions he saved up for retirement thanks to Maddoff. He didn't realize his moneyman had decided to let Maddoff control his accounts. So even if I had millions tucked away, odd are high that they'd vanish in the ponzi scam.

Invest in Butterbean, I say.

Still Clueless

For those curious, after Dan, his wife and kids at dinner and hunt out for nearly 3 hours, they left without a clue that Becky was pregnant. We did put Christmas cards over the frames holding the ultrasound pics of the Butterbean. That's sneaky, but I couldn't be obvious.

After they left, mom kept asking when i was going to tell Dan. I figure I can send him an invitation when Butterbean graduates from Harvard with his PhD in Biochemistry.

Comfort of Doom

In the midst of the whole crisis about what's it going to take to take care of the Butterbean, I find a strange solace in the fact that we've got less than 4 years until the arrival of Mayan Doomsday. What's the point of worrying about that right "Kindergarten business" with a predicted event hitting before he should know how to program Fortran?

The sad thought is that right after I get the kid completely potty trained, here comes Mayan Doomsday. All that work and effort and relief and then the big freak event hits. Now I'm stressed out again.

How can I protect the Butterbean from Mayan Doomsday? How much duct tape, sun block and bottled water does he need? What the hell is supposed to happen that time in Dec. 21, 2012? Will this be tied into a Cubs World Series victory parade? Should I buy furniture that has no interest until Dec. 25, 2012?

The Doom feeling

During Christmas dinner at my folks place, my sister-in-law starts going on a rant about how much it cost to deliver my nephew Will and how much baby formula costs. And I'm sitting there entire time feeling that this was somehow a terrible mistake. That I'm in no position to raise a kid. The sister-in-law asks Becky when we're going to buy a bigger house and register for baby gifts. A bigger house?

I found myself not quite doing math, but just that horrifying moment where I realize that my slacker lifestyle has made me worse off than a Franciscan monk. Those guys probably have 401Ks. At least they haven't burnt their salaries being dedicated followers of today's now fashions. What do I have? I haven't held a job that will qualify me to earn more than what it costs for daycare. And since Google killed the Butterbean fund, this is no longer an option outside of entertaining the masses for free. (By the way: The curse of the Butterbean has already taken effect. Instead of getting cash bonuses, Google serfs are being given the company's new cellphone for Christmas. A buggy phone is so much better than cash.)

Sure it costs a bit of money to have a kid. How the hell do poor people have kids that grow up to become captains of industry or at least NFL cornerbacks? Maybe I need to focus on doing a TV show called Joe and his 20 kids. The trick being that I just use CGI effects to make copies of the Butterbean. Or keep claiming that the other 19 babies are just off camera? Seeing how they're babies, they can almost all look the same for the early episodes. It's only later that I'd have to work some make up magic and give Butterbean a variety of looks using fake mustaches, beards and hippie wigs.

Maybe it pisses me off to hear my sister-in-law whine about how much a baby costs when a) she just had my brother buy a McMansion and b) she's knocked up again.

I have decided that in the next few weeks I must get a draft done of "The Boss's Son" - my script about a mobster's only son. This sort of freakish stuff seems to sell since it has a hitman dressed as a priest. This will be the new Butterbean fund.

Silent Night

This seems to be the last Christmas that's adult oriented. Come next year, the Butterbean will dominate the day even if he's barely 6 months old. The good part is he won't be old enough to have a clue about what's going on. We won't have to be tricky and hide the gifts until Christmas morning. He'll have that "this is neat, what is it?" look on his face. And he'll be happy getting a pair of slacks as a gift as long as they're wrapped.

Even with the Butterbean trapped on the inside, we'll be feeling his effect this year. I can smell quite a few baby items popping up with our names attached. I won't be getting that wii or 70 inch 1080p TV this year. People will think it's cute to give me diapers. Which is cool since we'll need them.

Dan, his wife and kids are due over tonight which will be interesting to see if he can guess that Bec's pregnant. i'm not giving him a clue. I just don't need to hear about it all night long. Now I must double safety check the house since I don't know if his youngest is out of her tossing stage. Dan threatened to bring the family dog along. I told him no.

Google hates the Butterbean

This was Google's reply to my Adsense appeal: "Thanks for providing us with additional information. However, after
thoroughly reviewing your account data and taking your feedback into
consideration, we've re-confirmed that your account poses a significant
risk to our advertisers. For this reason, we're unable to reinstate your
account. Thank you for your understanding."

Google swears their slogan is "Don't Be Evil," but they have destroyed the Butterbean fund by banning me from Adsense without giving me any facts like any other Evil corporation or a bank that took Bailout Billions. I do hope they understand that the last internet giant that dared to tangle with me with their faceless behemoth ways was Yahoo when they killed my account without warning or reason. How has Yahoo been doing? Google be prepared for your stock to sell for $12 a pop, too. The Butterbean will put an end to your private jumbo jet ways!

hope for taste

Becky said that Butterbean made her feel sick when I attempted to see what "The Hills After Party" was about on MTV. It was worse than imagined. I feel good knowing the Butterbean will be repulsed by Spencer and Heidi when he gets on the outside. These people should only exist to be mocked by Joel McHale on the Soup.

I'm happy the Butterbean has a little sense of taste.

It's a name

We went up to visit Becky's relatives in Virginia. They're excited at the news of the impending Butterbean although Becky's grandmother warned me to stop calling him Butterbean. Most of the folks were taken back that I wanted to know the Butterbean's gender instead of wanting to be surprised. I think just having a kid is surprise enough when you're my age (and I know my friends will be in show at the mini-me).

I really should get a Onesie made with "Mini-Me In Training" written on it.

clean bean

as a Christmas present we bought a new dishwasher. The old one has been around for nearly 20 years and hasn't exactly been a major cleaner lately. The new one was on a good sale price plus a coupon on top. This way the Butterbean will have clean bottles when it matters.

keep it high

we put up the Christmas tree this evening. It's a fake tree. we'll keep it for when the Butterbean arrives so he can learn the important lesson that man can manipulate plastics to make something that looks natural, but doesn't require watering so you don't have to keep hearing me yell about needles on the carpet because you didn't look to see how much water is in it.

also this is probably the last year that we can put breakable ornaments on lower branches. Got to let the kid think something wouldn't shatter to the touch. Although we don't have that many glass ornaments. Most of them are plastic and resemble athletes. He will probably be the only kid in his class with memories of Shaq hanging off the tree.

being too darn cute

on the Christmas cards being sent out to my side of the family, they're all signed "Merry Christmas from Joe, Becky and the Butterbean."

arm down

I realize that I'm making an effort to keep my right hand down when I'm just standing around to prepare for when i have to worry about Butterbean grabbing any low hanging part of my body

Why I'm not in med school.

I call mom to let her know that the appointment went well. She tells me about how when she was pregnant with Russ (I was about 3), we'd all go to the hospital. While mom was with the doctor, dad would keep me outside. After a few visits, I demanded to come inside the hospital because I wanted to play with the baby. I thought that during the check ups that the doctor took the baby out of mom and checked it out. At the end of the appointment, they'd push the baby back inside since it wasn't ready to be on the outside full time.

This probably explains why I was never considered a serious contender for med school.

Beep and Beats

The trip to the OBGYN didn't have any horrifying moments. There was no urgent news nor pop quiz.

I sat in the waiting room while Becky was weighed and measured. The flat screen was showing a goofy CNN medical channel with Sanjay Guppta as the host. The big ad they kept running was for a birth control ring. What was the point of advertising that to me? Why not also throw in a new pattern for arranging deck chairs on the Titanic?

The wait for the doctor was pretty damn long inside the examination room. I came up with the worst idea for a website "How Hot is my Pancreas?" Becky's hormones have gone into overdrive. I want to ask the doctor if there's an "Don't Bite Joe's Head Off" pills that he can prescribe. And they're free if they come in a generic.

He breaks out a strange little tape recorder looking thing and lets me somewhat hear the Butterbean's heartbeat. All sounds normal. Although I can already tell the kid is more driven and intense from the pace.

Afterwards we make another appointment. The lady asks if we want a boy or a girl. and I basically say it's going to be a boy. She says that gender is up to the kid. Which I respond, "My dad laid down the law as a kid and he's getting it from me." We laugh. But I've decided that a girl is too much. I don't want to have to worry about accessorizing the kid.

Fear of hospitals

Tomorrow we have another OB-GYN doctor visit. I get to sit there and nervously act like I'm supposed to know anything about this baby business. Mom tells me that the army wouldn't even check you for being pregnant until you were about four months along. Guess they had too many incidents of women swallowing volleyballs.

I don't mind going cause it does make me look responsible. But I fear they're going to throw a pop quiz at me. How much torn cloth and hot water do you need when the baby arrives? At least modern diapers are easier to put on than cloth ones with pins. Did they ever come up with a stapler for diapers? That would be like kind easier. You could use glue to put cushions on either side of the baby's hips and then after the diaper goes on "cachunk cachunk" and the diaper is attached. You might need pliers when it's time to change 'em.

Seeing it in order

One of the weirdness elements of the 21st Century is getting an entire TV series on DVD. When I was a kid, we didn't have a clue how many Gilligan's Island episodes there were. we just kept thinking the TV station might have missed one. So we'd keep watching the Back to Back Gilligan's on WLVI 56. We also didn't have a clue how few episodes they made of most Saturday morning shows. Now these kids can go on the internet and get all this information. They can even print out a checklist. Of course all this truth ruins he imagination since you can't lie about seeing "lost episodes" to dopey pals who thinks there was a Speed Buggy episode with Hong Kong Phooey.

Have I turned Butterbean into my fictional TV watching pal? Not that I'll force him to be a TV baby. The kid has to get the jokes before I force him to watch 'em. Although with my luck he's going to turn into a snob declaring he can't watch anything that isn't Blu-ray. "Standard Def hurts my eyes, Daddy."

Watching the kid

Babysitting on Friday night turned out to be pretty easy. The 5 year old kid fixated on playing with the magnetic letters on my fridge. Once he established his routine for the evening, he stuck with it. He didn't poke in drawers or run around screaming. He was much easier to watch than Dan's kids. He didn't seem to mind that his folks were gone as long as he had letters to explore. He's a spelling maniac. He even wrote "Now Available on VHS and DVD for the first time." He like the credits on DVDs.

Ray Regis would have enjoyed knowing that there was a little kid who liked to stare at the screen during the credit roll.

It's a family tradition

I've decided that Butterbean will be raised with Festivus in the house. The Butterbean will understand that the holiday season isn't over until he can pin his old man.

A Horrible Fate

While shopping at BJs, I see this little kid poking around the display of baseball caps. I imagine how much fun it'll be taking the Butterbean to the Durham Bulls games to see the Pawsox. Always good to tell the kid, "Remember when we saw that Redsox player" when the front row seats were cheaper. But then I'm struck with the horrible fear - what if Butterbean likes the Yankees. I'd rather have that kid come home saying, "Dad, Karl Rove has some great ideas and he really knows how to give a reach around" than a request for pinstripes for Christmas. I'll have to do my best to make him not even know the Yankees exist this way he can't even rebel by rooting against his old man's team. I could solve this by naming him Yastrzemski Pedroia Corey. He'd have to cheer for his namesake. I could never name a child Johnny Damon or Roger Clemens.

One less "Gimme" Hotspot

I just got the news that mall favorite KB Toys is calling it quits. This was the one place I used to wander off to at the mall whenever the folks were looking at loser stuff like clothes and clothes and more clothes. Where is a parent going to look for their missing kids when there's no toystore in the mall? Where am I supposed to disappear to when the wife is looking at clothes? As record, book and video stores flee the mall, it's just one big clothing store. Even Hot Topic and Urban Outfitters are more about clothes that cool stuff.

I hope my kid doesn't run off to Hot Topic. That place breeds losers more than Larry's Pocket Protector Galleria.

Test Run

This Friday we have to watch a pal's kid while she's off at an office Christmas dinner. This means today I'm cleaning up and "securing" the downstairs. The kid is autistic so I have to be extra careful since I won't have the automatic response when saying, "Careful! Or Don't Touch That!" Best just to not have stuff around that doesn't need touching. With any luck, he'll spend most of the visit moving the alphabet magnets around the fridge door.

The hairy bump

CNN just reported that a "pregnant" woman was busted for attempting to smuggle a monkey into the country disguised as her baby bump. Now I'm worried that this is all just a front so that Becky can get into the high dollar world of monkey smuggling with me as her clueless patsy.

Will I be stuck at customs declaring that the furry beast really is my child? Oh the shame.

You can't predict 'em

While contemplating what it'll be like when the Butterbean makes the great escape, it's easy to daydream about the Sears catalog kid. But I can't allow myself to predetermine the attitude of the Butterbean. For all I know, the kid will be a brat from the start. Or a nice little kid with big eyes and a nervous hand. When you predict too much, you just get disappointed. I think also you get annoyed when they won't follow your program instead of you adapting the plan to the game on the field. This isn't football where you chart out your first 20 plays.

couldn't tell him

Dan called today and in the middle of the talk about what his kids are doing, he goes, "when are you going to have little Joes?" I couldn't tell him the news. Instead I said, "You'll know when you know." When in doubt, it's not lying to go zen.

The Gimmes

Used to be whenever I went into a store, I pushed my cart around, snagged my stuff and left without noticing anyone. Now I can't help but stare at kids in the carts. Mainly seeing how the mom's make sure the kids don't turn it into a jungle gym on wheels. Also to see how they keep the kids from grabbing stuff off the shelves. I think the key is to hit the cough syrup display first.

In this world of Fox News warnings about amber alerts, I kinda feel creepy observing them. I want to shout out "my wife's expecting," but that might be something a creepy stranger with candy would say. Perhaps the best way to keep the kid from grabbing object is to infuse them with "snob appeal." Allow junior to think, "I wouldn't touch that with your hand." Also shopping at BJs seems to be good since there's no way a kid can grab anything that's wrapped in bulk.

Hiding the news from Dan

For several years now, my pal Dan has been constantly going on about when will Becky and I have kids. He's got two girls and wants to inflict his insane homelife on me. His daughter (and my goddaughter) Sara is a police siren when I have to babysit her.Dan keeps swearing my kids will be worse than his. He's going to come over with popcorn and watch the mayhem around my house. But I insist that my kids in order to truly rebel will be goal oriented, focused and organized. Nothing will drive me nuts more than seeing a clean floor in my kid's room.

About a year ago, I told Dan to quit asking "when are going to have kids?" cause it was pissing Becky off. Dan hasn't asked in the last year. I know he'll be unstoppable when he gets word that we've got Butterbean on the way. He'll call at all hours and insist my life is going to turn into a living hell. He has to share all those warm thoughts. So I've decided to not tell him until way late in the process. We haven't seen him in a while so he won't notice the bump. Mom and Dad have been sworn to not tell him when he calls.

Now you're probably thinking that he'll find out about Butterbean from this webblog - but nope. His computer is broken. He always has to call me to get phone numbers and addresses of the schools he subs at. It'll be interesting to see if we have to host him and his kids on Christmas. Maybe I'll have Becky hide behind the fridge to prevent him getting a clue.

Now it's become a gender landslide

Carmen, Becky's hairstylist, told her that we're going to have a boy. This is a woman who has an understanding of Bec's hair so naturally she's got to have a clue what's going on inside her.

Becky also had a dream last night that she gave birth. It was an easy delivery and the Butterbean turned out to be a boy with plenty of hair. Fast and everything goes right labor is the better part of the dream for me. Don't want to spend the next few years hearing her talk about a 36 hour labor. I want that kid to drop like a Kanye West album.

Another Bad Baby name

Actor Jonny Lee Miller and his wife, model Michele Hicks named their baby Buster Timothy Miller.

Buster? Buster? That's a nickname. Even Buster Keaton's real first name was Joe. He was part of the Fellowship of Joes. Even Buster's son who is known as Buster Keaton Jr. is really named Joe. If you wanted to name the kid after Buster Keaton, you should put Joseph on the birth certificate.

You do know what's really named Buster? A really bad film starring Phil Collins. What child wants to know that their name was used by Mr. SuuuSuuuuSussudio?

Remember a simple rule to naming a kid - when you call out their name; will a neighbor's dog will come running for dinner? Time to pick another name.

let it pour

I've volunteered to give blood next weekend because I need to understand the feeling of my life slowly being drained out of me. Although I'm the one who gets the juice and cookie after the ordeal.

Damn kids!

why can't the Butterbean let mom eat her breakfast in peace? Such a picky eater already.

10 Movies I will have to hide from Butterbean

1. Salo
2. Last Tango in Paris
3. The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover
4. Caligula
5. Story of O (in Blu-ray)
6. The Wild Bunch
7. Smiley Face
8. Super 8 1/2
9. The Emanuelle collection
10. The Act of Seeing with One's Own Eyes

These DVDs will have to be tucked away in a locked box on a top shelf.

Lessons for the Butterbean

There's no excuse for bad behavior.

It's a sad truth that you need to have manners when around others no matter what the situation - at least in situations which someone can call the cops on you. Don't act up at the airport. Think of the French and how they can be cursing you and your grandmother for 15 minutes, yet they sound like they're singing you a love song. When you must complain, make it sound like a compliment.

Goggle Adsense killed the Butterbean fund.

I'm not sure why, but Google Adsense sent me this:

While going through our records recently, we found that your AdSense
account has posed a significant risk to our AdWords advertisers. Since
keeping your account in our publisher network may financially damage
our advertisers in the future, we've decided to disable your account.

I'm appealing this since the Butterbean account was up to $22. That's a pack of diapers.

icky things

I end up reading this article about how Clay Aiken changes his baby's diapers. This kinda freaked me out. This guy is willing to deal with the smell of dirty diapers, but had to use a turkeybaster to knock up his female friend. People are weird.

You Know Your In the South...

When it comes to painting the baby's room, people mention the paint scheme should reflect which NASCAR driver you want the kid to root for.

Three Things

There are three things I have to remember with Becky being pregnant

1. Juice Her Up - she always needs to have a cup of juice when she leaves the house.

2. Keep the Tub Extra Clean - she likes to soak instead of shower.

3. Don't Make Plans Past 8 p.m. - her bedtime varies between 7 p.m. and 11 p.m. depending on how the Butterbean whips her butt during the day.

Long as I remember these three things, I'll be set for the next week. Cause like NASCAR, the rules change depending on the track and the star driver that might want to break them.

A great quote

I went to a memorial service for Dwayne Walls, my college journalism coach. A speaker quoted Dwayne as saying:

One boy can do the work of one boy
Two boys can do the work of half a boy
Three boys are useless

I'm not sure if he originated the saying, but I'm attributing it to Dwayne. Being from a family of three boys, I can say that he was onto something.

Practice makes perfect

When nobody is around, I catch myself working on my "Don't Touch That" voice. I want to be able to almost have it down so that the moment i breathe in, the Butterbean will put his hands in his pockets. What is the right "huff" key?

Fine Dining

Becky refuses to eat a McRib so that Butterbean can enjoy the wonder that is McRib.

What are the odds that McDonald's will still be serving the McRib when Butterbean is ready to eat solid foods? They took it away for years. They could do it again.

How can she refuse the genius that is the McRib? This is Butterbean's best chance to receive nourishment from the wonder pork and its miracle sauce. How will Butterbean know how much he is loved without a taste of McRib?

Maybe I can hide a McRib inside an orange slice and sneak it into Becky's stomach?

Who Do You Have to....

So I started looking into wolfpacks to raise Butterbean. I figure if it's good enough for Lucan, why not let wild animals raise my kid. It's always a good conversation topper after all those private school misfits mouth off about their Snotsburry Day School to discuss being raised by wolves.

Who knew you would have to fill out so much paperwork for an unborn kid. And then they still want to do an interview with the baby before they admit them to the program. Plus they want a non-refundable deposit. I smell a scam. Might be cheaper to have Butterbean raised by possums.

Stooges

At what age should a child be exposed to the Three Stooges? How long will I have to hide the DVDs of Moe, Larry and Curly in the vault?

I don't recall seeing them until I was about 7. Growing up on bases in West Germany didn't help since Armed Forces TV seemed to want to keep the violence down. Every week they showed Born Free. I remember they ran the clip show film with Charlie McCarthy inbetween sliced up Stooge adventures. Think they also ran some of the later feature films in the afternoon. This was confusing since I had no idea of the relationship between Curly and Curly Joe DeRita. This was at a time before the internet so we had no way to figure out the timeline.

Kids view themselves as indestructible enough without seeing the Stooges survive violent mayhem. Perhaps the Butterbean will wait until he's at least 25 to see the genius of Moe.

Why don't you ever see Born Free on TV anymore?