Test Pilot

When it comes time to child proof the house, I'll just borrow my nephew Will to see if things are truly secure. I should get him a pair of goggles and a hardhat just to meet OSHA standards.

The Nickname Game

Now that everyone knows we refer to the upcoming addition as "The Butterbean," it's strange to see who really likes the nickname.

My side of the family is from the great urban joy of Boston. Becky's kin live in rural Virginia. So you'd think you'd know which relatives would be horrified at us saying how the Butterbean is doing. But it's Becky's family that are complaining that we shouldn't call 'em Butterbean. Mainly cause they fear it will stick. Yet my uncles and aunts up in Boston get a complete kick that we call it Butterbean. My mom laughs when she says it. My mother-in-law doesn't even want to acknowledge the nickname.

I think it's proper for a child conceived in Virginia to have a goofy food based nickname. Although we keep explaining that in a few months, it'll be called The Butterball. Although I hope that the child doesn't suffer from buttahface.

Notes from the Underground

Bec burps more than ever before - which is a pretty high volume amount of burps.

I've determined that this isn't merely gas, but coded messages from the Butterbean. It's like a prisoner tapping out his Morse action on bars after the screws have turned out the lights. The Butterbean wants us to know something, but mostly it seems to be his dream to belch the alphabet.

Soon as I break his code, I'll reply by strawberrying out messages on Becky's belly.

Lessons from TV Dads

Father Knows Best

Jim Anderson ran what appeared to be a perfect household. He had a hot wife, a son and two daughters. These kids didn't have any major problems. They got out of his way when he had to sell insurance.

Lesson Learned from TV Dad

Bud and Kitten had major problems after the show went off the air. Princess went on to marry Sheriff Andy Taylor, but then dumped him, ran off to New York City to be a semi-platonic gal to Felix Unger. His kids didn't come off as completely stable with Jim's life lessons being anchors.

The only time Jim showed his real face is the legendary "24 Hours in Tyrantland" when he teaches the kids a harsh lesson of living in a Soviet style state. Maybe if he traumatized the kids more, they would have been as upright as him.

A son!!!!

Forget going to the doctor and using that ultrasound to determine the gender of Butterbean. We decided to use a good old fashioned old wives tale.

During Thanksgiving dinner fun, a lot of Bec's cousins came with their kids. At one point Bec picked up a little girl baby and the child was extra peaceful to her. It was pointed out that girl babies get upset when being held by women that are pregnant with girls. I guess being a jealous mean girl starts in the womb.

To get a second opinion, it was observed that the two under-1 year old boys were doing their best to avoid being near Bec. Seems it's also true that boys don't like being around women pregnant with boys. Although I'm not sure if this is the case with boys that are milquetoasts who will spend their lives being bullied by girls.

So it's pretty much settled that the kid will now be named Joseph John IV. That sounds good enough to be tacked onto a Pope.

This kinda stinks since we'd finally settled on Josie Alma if it was a girl.

But you can't argue with old wives tales!

When comics age

While waiting for my copy of Saturday Night Live Season 4 in the mail, i get to thinking how much fun it'll be when I expose Butterbean to Bill Murray, John Belushi and Garret Morris. Naturally the Butterbean will be nearly 10 to enjoy and understand such stuff. it's got to be able to comprehend the historical context. I start doing the math and realize the SNL shows will be nearly 45 years old at that point. This would make this show on par with me as a kid watching Charlie Chaplin on TV.

I hope the Butterbean doesn't think the Killer Bees move with a jerky motion.

belly button weirdness

Last night I learned that while the baby's belly button is healing, you need to keep it extra clean. For boy babies this means making sure they're tucked like a drag queen when diapered up. No need to have them pee upward.

These kids are already getting complicated.

Tips for the Butterbean #2

Life Hurts

While I'll do my best to make sure you're not tossed around like a box of china by the moving men, there's going to be a lot of bumps if you don't pay attention to your surroundings. Remember to keep one hand on the railing - it's for your own good. When you decide to start walking on two feet, make sure you have a spotter.

It's going to hurt when you hit the floor, coffeetable, doorknob, back of the chair, bottle of Old Spice or the ceiling (we could have a gravity outage). You might be rather bouncy, but you're not indestructible.

Lessons from TV Dads

My Two Dads

I never really watched this show since it came on during a period when I had a social life. What I know was that it starred the creepy corporate guy from Aliens and the trucker from BJ and the Bear minus the truck, chimp and Sheriff Lobo. We made up our own version of the plot in that years ago these two guys had a hot threesome with a stewardess on at the airport Hilton. She got knocked up, but didn't tell either of them. She ended up dying and the court decided that while one of the two guys was the real dad, the prudish family judge decided that both of them would share custody of the kid as a punishment for having too much fun in a fleabag hotel. The two guys are forced to live together and do their best to not look like they're married.

What would have made this show much more exciting if they had forced the girl to be raised by a chimp and the alien. Talk about a kid nervous about bringing boys home to meet the dads.

Is this close to the real premise? Cause if it isn't, I'll pitch it to Fox.

Dad Lessons Learned From The TV Father

Always wear a rubber when messing around with a freaky stewardess.

Truckers are cooler with Chimps than with the corporate weasel who wants to bring Aliens back to Earth.

What an expensive baby

Tiger Woods broke his endorsement deal with GM (Buick). it was worth $7 million bucks a year.

What's the reason? He wants to spend more personal time with his second baby.

I wish I could walk away from $7 million bucks to spend a few extra hours with the Butterbean. It's not like Tiger was actually working on the assembly line welding the new cars for 40 hours a week. A couple commercials that were completely geared around his schedule. And a weekend at the Pontiac golf tourney. Not like the baby couldn't come along on those events.

I'll pimp a Pontiac for $3.5 million and I'll bring along the Butterbean.

Tips for the Butterbean #1

I'm Looking Out For You

Contrary to what you believe, I'm not doing things to only make your life a living hell. There's reason and logic when I ask you to do things. Listen carefully and understand that no matter what you do, there are always dangerous consequences. I want you to be aware of the right thing to do even if it goes against your instincts and desires.

Of course if you get on my nerves, I might ignore this rule unless you remind me and guilt me into thinking I betrayed you.

Way to screw up Saturday mornings

Turns out that Fox has decided to completely abandon Saturday mornings by having 2 hours of infomercials instead of cartoons. On top of that, most of the networks run their news show instead of Kiddie fare during the early hours. How am I supposed to get a kid up on Saturday morning with the promise of Lester Holt demonstrating a new vacuum cleaner? Even Nick and Disney Channel merely rerun the same junk they show during the week. Saturday morning is no longer sacred.

I fear at 8 a.m. hearing the Butterbean knocking on the door and demanding we take him out of the house cause there's nothing good on TV. I don't want to have to tell my kid to put their pajamas back on, head down the stairs and watch TV. Daddy's got to sleep it off.

When i was a kid, there was nothing sadder than that hour when Soul Train, American Bandstand or college football arrived cause that was time to admit Saturday morning was over. The grown ups had taken over the channel and now we'd have to make an effort to do something with our unbusy days.

Perhaps by the time Butterbean is ready for TV, TV will once more be ready to entertain Butterbean.

the joy of lazy days

Today has just been a completely lazy day. We've just napped and watched TV and napped. Six months from now, this will not be possible. Unless we dump the Butterbean off at mom's house.

Chillin' at the parade

The Raleigh Christmas parade is taking place right now. Currently it's below freezing outside. The Butterbean will have to understand that the only parades that we will attend are only going to be during warm weather events. All others should be watched on TV. It'd be nice to take the Butterbean to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, but it's become so commercial.

The good part about taking little kids to parades is being able to stash things in the baby buggy that wouldn't want to carry - like a gallon of Aristocrat vodka. I've been told it's good as a babywipe.

not on the list

Bec said Julie Newmar is not a name for Butterbean. She's got issues with the Julie part. Lee Meriweather is still in the running.

Baby names

The geek from Fallout Boy and Ashlee (knife my nose) Simpson have named their son "Bronx Mowgli Wentz."

I couldn't do that to my child. Why curse a child with a neighborhood that hasn't seen a World Series victory in 8 years?

Fenway Baloo Corey has a much better ring.

where does it go?

Whenever I'm in a room for a while, I look around and ponder, "Where would the Butterbean fit in this space?" Where will I put him in the living room? I'm guessing on the coffeetable so he's able to see me and I can give him a bottle without getting out of my desk chair. of course this is dealing with the early months of the Butterbean when a baby merely lays around, sucking down milk and pooping up diapers. Once they get mobile, this room becomes a warzone.

Too early

This week started off way too early working on a Cub Cadet commercial. The 6 a.m. call times had me waking up at 4:15. I'm guessing this can be seen getting prepared for early morning feedings of Butterbean. Luckily Butterbean won't involve me cranking up a 24 ft. camper and driving out to a horse ranch north of Durham in freezing weather. Butterbean better be in a warm room within arm's reach.

Why Tell Early?

This was a non-slacker week as I spent time PAing on a Cub Cadet lawnmowers commercial. I have to make money to pay for birthing Butterbean. Otherwise I'll have to spend the next 9 months washing out bedpans.

During lunch, one of the crew asked if it was a little too early to tell people that Bec's pregnant. I explained that since people noticed how Bec was either napping or puking, my only cover story would be that she's hooked on the smack.

The truth is less scandalous, but it does ruin our chances of making a quick buck by starring on Intervention. Has there there been an episode where the subject admits she's just knocked up and not messed up on drugs?

Dementing the kids

Becky is now living in fear that I will teach Butterbean "Fish Heads," the classic Barnes & Barnes song. She can't help, but laugh with imagining how her mom will react to my child singing "Eat them up, Yum!" It will be a strange form of fun to get the kid to sing something other than the songs from High School Musical 23. You know Disney won't be stopping that madness.

Puking Baby Syndrome

I have to figure out nicer ways to prepare food so it doesn't get Becky sick to her stomach looking at it. The Beefaroni didn't quite go over so well. Maybe I should blindfold her before all meals? Although that could be misinterpreted as a romantic dinner which would kill the need for date night.

This kid is going to be a touchy eater.

ick

I'm not looking forward to hearing the words "Mucus Plug."

no cheese

Bec hinted that she'd like to have us take posed pics when her belly gets third trimester big. I'm not a big fan of those type of portraits. Smiling at a woman's belly almost comes off as cannibalistic. Or at least like you're posing for a fetish site. Plus I know the expression in my face will be interpreted as "Hurry up and get out of there!" Or "do you know what you're going to do to me?" There seems to be something extremely creepy about those pics. I don't like posing for the Driver's license photographer.

Family portraits should be done on the outside.

Plus at some point, i know I'll point out to the butterbean that the pic reminds me of a time when they were well behaved and quiet.

....and chicken?

We had lunch at the Bojangle's with Dana. While I was munching away on a cajun fried breast, she started telling us about how her kid is finally catching on to potty training. While this was extremely good news, it wasn't quite what my stomach needed to hear. I realize that for the next few years, it will be impossible to avoid any table conversations that won't touch upon bodily functions.

If only kids could be born potty trained from the womb, we'd be better off. Why can't science work for me instead of the benefit of humanity.

cold culture

Supposedly under Eskimo culture, if a pal who is traveling cross country with his pregnant wife drops by your igloo for a visit, he's entitled to borrow your non-pregnant wife to continue the trip. You're stuck dealing with the pregnant wife until he returns from the trip. I've never met an Eskimo who can explain if this is real or not. What are the chances that a Eskimo with a wife finally showing decided it was time to take that trip so he can pop by the pal with the hot wife to "swap"? Did Eskimos do their best to keep a scan out for travelers with pregnant wives so they could turn the lights out in the igloo? And what happens if you knock up your friend's wife on the second half of the trip? Do you get to swap her further down the road?

Not that I would ever go on a trip and leave my Becky with the host while I head off with the wife.

Baby's make good excuses

Because of Bec's constant need to nap, we have a great excuse for not having to make any plans for the next few weeks. We can't promise we can make anything after 8 p.m. unless you have a guest room for her to pass out in. Butterbean keeps kicking her ass. I fear what it'll do at the terrible twos. I really should invest in a safety deposit box to hide the DVDs.

Pretty on the outside

While sitting in the nurse's office, I saw the bookcase had those plastic models of the female reproductive organs. I couldn't look at them. I prefer to be a very surface person when it comes to such a view. I get squeamish. It's that horrifying fear that I'm touching that with my what?

This whole "where do babies come from" thing was much better when reduced to the stork. at no point in the stork story was there any of this business about stretching body parts and bleeding. And as a father, you don't have to feel guilty about what you did to your wife. You just got to blame the stork for screwing things up.

The sofa gets smaller

During the course of our time together, laying on the sofa has always been a wonderful time. We can both fit comfortably. We're wrapped around each other. Now that butterbean is taking up space, Bec is left slightly dangling. I have to suck more into the cushions to make sure she doesn't flop over. But I sense as the months progress that position will a memory. It's a shame she didn't get an ottoman with her sofa, loveseat and single chair combo. We could have used the ottoman as extra belly support.

Guess this means we'll just have to spend more time in the "breakfast time" position.

Waiting in Fear

While stuck in the waiting room, I keep having a fearful vision of the nurse pointing at me and shouting, "Do you know what you did to this girl? Do you know!!!"

But they were much nicer. Today's visit was mostly paperwork. We had to make the first installment payment on the delivery action. Butterbean really is going to cost as much as my 60" High Def TV. That kid better plan on giving me more joy that 1080p.

I discovered that the doctor does not charge by the pound for the delivery.

Also they don't recommend me doing the delivery using the educational film about how to pop out a baby in the backseat of a patrol car. I think they don't like competition.

early nurse call

We have an 8 a.m. appointment to see the ob-gyn nurse. I guess this is to get the "things you need to do while you're pregnant" talk. There goes having becky working the scrum on my midnight rugby team. I'm going along to be the good husband. Although at this moment, I get the feeling of being sent to the principal's office. What did I do this time? I've got another 6 1/2 months of this fun on the schedule.

I hate these things. I don't think the medical profession has ever forgiven me for calling them "Hi Tech Witch Doctors." Skip showed me a film that explained to highway patrolmen how to deliver babies in the backseat of their cars. All I have to do is make sure the baby doesn't fall onto the floor. Cavepeople had babies. Why do we over-complicate a natural process?

Waking up to face the nurse....at least she won't be probing my butt on this trip. I'm going to feel so guilty even with the "compassionate husband" attitude. All this could have been prevented if I'd just given her The CarrotTop treatment.

Becky said this is the week that the child chooses its gender. I'm trying to encourage the fetus to be a boy by pointing out that as a son, he gets a cool name with a numeral. Worked for me.

Lost Excuse

They never tell you the one bad part about not smoking: you lose an escape clause.

At no point when the pressure of the pregnancy get to me am I allowed to tell Bec, "I'm going down to the corner to buy a pack of cigarettes." Which of course is code for, "See if you can find me when I split for Brazil!"

She'll know I'm trying to flee and will lock the door before my Lucky Strike lie can catch fire.

The CDs

Before I met Bec, I had a massive collection of CDs. I'm not sure how many, but it's got to be over 2,000. They pretty much dominated my old living room in Winston-Salem. When I moved in with Becky, they took over the front bedroom. Becky didn't like the piles of music so she first got these giant bags to stash them away under the guest bed and other spaces. Then she bought plastic boxes. They are now piled up to the ceiling in a corner of the room. Because they are piled that way, I rarely dig through to get a CD. It's too much of a hassle.

Of course now that the kid is on the way, we have to make space. No baby wants to live in dad's record room. I'm going to take them up to the father-in-law's place since he's got space that I can turn into the vault. But Bec's hinting I should sell them on Craigslist or ebay. I can use the money to buy an HDTV. Our friend Brandy is doing this.

I can't. First off a majority of the collection is from the BMG record club. I used to hustle the crap out of the 12 for 1 deal. So right off the bat they're worthless to collectors. Also what's the point in wasting that much time having to go to the post office to send somebody their dollar disc? I don't want to have to deal with mailing all that crap.

Plus what if my kid has good taste. i'm going to save him thousands of dollars in buying music. Or avoid me getting nailed for his music downloading.He can use the old man's cds to have a really great iPod.

I can't unload my CDs. I spent 23 years collecting them through various ways. They were my first children. And who the hell would want my complete Undertones collection?

#2

I feel kinda sad knowing that watching the Boston Redsox win the World Series is in jeopardy of moving down "happiest day of my life" list.

ah the costs

So the OB-GYN office called to let us know that before our first visit next week, Becky should call to talk about our insurance benefits.

Hopefully our policy covers the heavy work.

Butterbeans for Butterbean!

Decided that tonight for dinner, I'm cooking up Butterbeans. We'll see if they agree with Butterbean.

Bec can't stand the taste of toothpaste. it gets her sick. Now I have to find something that she can scrub with. Why do kids cause so many problems?

them baby names

if the kid is a boy, he'll get the Joe IV name. But we figured a good nickname for him is Gaston - since we're guessing that's where he was conceived.

Clearing the front room

So over the next few weeks we have to clean out the front bedroom to get it ready for baby furniture stuff. It's strange that I'm moving my toys out for the kid's toys. No need to tease the youngster with my still in the plastic collector's items. What's he going to do with my Bob Crane doll?

What's in a nickname?

Bec's relatives are frightened that I've taken to calling the upcoming baby "Butterbean."

"Don't say that it. It's going to stick," her aunt told me.

They don't understand that in a few months, he'll be Butterball.

Stealing Thunder

My youngest brother calls up this afternoon. He asks if Bec and I are around. I say sure thinking that he's in the area and wants to drop by to celebrate the pregnancy in person. Nope.

His wife (also named Rebecca) is pregnant with their second child. It's due in July. He is nervous about telling our folks for fear that somehow he'll lessen our news. I inform him that such things are impossible since my child is the family Scion. His kid will be the second child so it'll just get hand me downs.

It wasn't that unexpected since they just bought a huge place with extra bedrooms. His wife does want the large family.

But now I know we're going to have to give a baby shower present in the middle of getting one. Smells like the perfect time to re-gift.

Kids and Parties

We went out to a Halloween party that was getting fun, but Butterbean wore out Bec before midnight. So we left early. Who knew that 7 months to go, the Butterbean is already making demands.

Can you hire a fetus sitter?

Crisis Averted

My mother-in-law has returned with my wife. Such a relief knowing I won't have to get phone calls from Dr. Phil wanting the exclusive coverage.

Maternity Shopping

The Mother-in-law arrived at 10:30 a.m. with Beck's aunt Cack and her cousin. They're taking her shopping for maternity clothes. She's not even showing. What's wrong with her wearing my oversized t-shirts and sweat pants for the next 7 months?

A few hours after they leave, the cellphone rings. Bec's mom has lost her at the mall. My wife is missing and I don't even have the last name Peterson. Will Matt Lauer believe me that I have nothing to do with my wife being lost at the mall by my mother-in-law. They better find her or I'm going to be in big trouble with my mom.

New Phobia?

While making breakfast, Becky calls me into the kitchen. She can't scramble the eggs. She's bonded with yokes. So now it is up to me to take the fork to them while her back is to the stove.