Category — Random Thoughts

I think it was my suggestion to do a final load of laundry before we go for another walk that got Dan’s attention. We thought for sure that last night was going to be our little guy’s big introduction to the world. We timed over 67 contractions ranging from 3:30 min to 8 min over the course of 6 hours, making initial phone calls and text messages to the grandparents to be, letting them know we thought the arrival was imminent…only to continue to watch the contractions vary in length and slowly taper off. Finally, finding absolutely nothing interesting on TV, we went to sleep last night around 2am.

I was able to sleep through the night and have continued to have some contractions today, but again, they are all over the place in timing and intensity. We have a doctor visit at 9am tomorrow, but we’re still hoping that our little guy will be here in time for the UCLA game tonight!

A short while ago I was easily upset by all the random people telling me just how large I had gotten. I still don’t advocate telling someone they look like they are huge, but my perspective is a little different these days and I just smile and nod. These days people just ask when the due date is, or simply guess “any day now?” Tonight, a young girl of about 3 passed us on the sidewalk and told her dad “she has a big belly!”. She was just stating the obvious. I took a measurement of my belly, something I had been scared to do since pre-pregnancy and the results were shocking…41 inches!

Immediately Dan began to tell me where on his chest 41 inches would hit, or that it was like 3.5 feet tall! We laugh that I don’t just fall over forwards. So when we got home, I did a little research and found a few other things that are about 41 inches:

Another pregnant belly (not me)

A snake about 3.5 ft long

A guitar

Or ironically, a young girl, only slightly larger than the girl we passed on the sidewalk

We see the Doctor again tomorrow and hopefully she’ll be able to tell us if our boy is big, or just his mom

Well, Christine and I started our Sunday much like any other Sunday; a walk along the ocean on our way to the 3rd Street Promenade to sit and have some coffee and a muffin. After which, we decided that we should really go check out the area Catholic church as we have yet to join a parish. So we walked on over to the 9:30 mass at St. Monica’s – we were fairly sure that this was the parish that we wanted to be a part of given that it was the one that has the Catholic school. (Still deciding – and we have a lot of time to consider – on whether jr will be attending a Catholic school but at least we know that their will be a slew of other families affiliated with this church.)

The inside is very simple – soft, warm colors that are very inviting. The first thing that I noticed was that there were a lot of people here and EARLY! Completely different from the parish that we were married at back in Chicago. Before the processional, the cantor asked for all the visitors to the parish to stand and as they did, the remaining parish clapped for them. What? Cheering for them because they went to church on vacation ~ I had to smile. The next thing was that I thought I heard a guitar in the back ground. I slowly leaned over to Christine and said, ‘Something tells me that this isn’t going to be a traditional mass.’ Anyone who knows my feelings on this topic is well aware that I’m a ‘by the book’ type of Catholic mass. (I like to be able to read along to be sure that they aren’t skipping any words or putting their own spin on it.)

And then the celebration began – seriously, the celebration – it was like a freaking party just started. Drums playing, a tambourine going off, lots of swaying from the ‘audience’ and belting out the entrance hymn, an electric bass guitar playing. I was stunned – and as I leaned over to whisper to my wife, I had to grab her hand to get her to pay attention to me as she’s partying it up with everyone else! What just happened here – here’s a picture – can someone please show me where any of the disciples are playing an electric guitar? Does someone see Peter jamming out on the drums? And I don’t see any tambourine either – do you?

And then we get to the homily – the portion on the mass where the priest explains how the gospel applies to you and in your life today. And as he’s delivering it, I recognized that its actually really good. He’s message is spot on – and deep, like one of those messages that makes you really appreciate what you have and how you want to share it with everyone.

The mass moves on and everyone is really having a good time and I can tell that I’m being tested. We look over – yup, there is Arnold (The Governator) and Maria Shriver with their family. So the entire community is here and its ok for traditionalists like the Governator to enjoy and I start to realize that this is that test – Am I concerned with the packaging so much that I miss the message? Can the medium in which information is delivered change and can I accept that to really get what is important? These are those questions that really drive me crazy as it was much easier when Sunday mornings consisted of trying to remember which bar you have to go to to pick up your credit card and close your tab!

I recognize that being a father is the greatest gift that I’ve ever been given. I’ll be tested – for sure. But I’m reminded today that its the message that matters and that listening and open-mindedness are the only ways for me to grow. And its that growth that will allow me the best opportunity to provide a loving environment for my family.

But where is the guilt? You can’t leave a Catholic mass and not feel guilty – isn’t that in the rules somewhere? So with that, I decided I needed my fix and called my mother!

(Just kidding – I actually talked to my mother before I went to mass

As our due date gets ever closer, Dan and I sat down last weekend to figure out “what do we really need”. So our list looked something like: clothes, diapers, bassinet, carseat and stroller….that’s when we found out how long a list that can turn into.

Did you know that you have to have a car seat to take a baby home from the hospital? We did actually know this tidbit, thanks to birthing class and the hospital tour, and had picked out a nice one for our registry. However, upon closer inspection, we noticed that the one we picked doesn’t hold infants (I thought that was the purpose for all of them, but apparently not). No sweat, we’ll pick one that holds infants right? Well, those typically only go up to 21 pounds, then you have to buy another car seat for your toddler. Ok, fine we’ll play this game, so on to the stroller. So then we find out that the jogging stroller we want doesn’t hold an infant either, but for extra $$ you can buy an additional piece to place your infant car seat/carrier in, but there are only four compatable ones listed and the one we just picked above isn’t one of them. So we scratch the lovely car seat we just decided on, pick one that now is for infants and fits in the stroller accessory, done right? We sure hope so, this process took hours of searches, reading reviews and debating about what is best for our little guy!

It looks like before we are all said and done, we will be the proud parents of a beautiful baby boy and the proud owners of 2 car seats, 1 stroller with multiple accessories, and who knows how many other multiple purchases down the road!

Would you tell someone that they are too fat? Then why do people think it is alright to tell a pregnant woman how large she is? Over the past two weeks I have been told by complete strangers “Wow, you’re huge!”, “Are you having twins?”, “Are you sure you’re not due earlier?”, “Is the baby normal size?”, and my favorite “Looks like you’re going to pop tomorrow!”. These people have been at the airport, farmers market, or even just walking down the street. My responses have been nice so far, but I’m thinking that I should tell people that I’m not even pregnant.

If you’re reading this, you know that the due date is two months away. And yes, I’m going to get bigger. The doctor says that my belly is exactly where it should be at this stage, I’m just short.

My theory is that if you can’t walk up to a stranger on the street and tell them that they’re fat, then you shouldn’t tell anyone, pregnant or not, that they are big.

(Note: this posting was a ranting on strangers, my family and friends
have been very supportive. And when they call me big, it’s usually
because I am much bigger than the last time they saw me )