In honor of Larhonda Griselda Gamaliel Dinnius Martell Uther Symington

One of the biggest tasks parents-to-be have is figuring out what to name their incoming poop machine.

            Luckily, Melissa and I got the biggest step out of the way when the doctor told us our “it” was going to be a “girl”. He didn’t bother to give any advice on how a 54-year old father should deal with his 17-year old daughter, but I noticed he had some beer coupons in his desk. Right under the ear plugs.

In any case, it’s really nice to know it’s a girl. I wasn’t really looking forward to my 50’s or 60’s anyway. And now I have the chance to plan on having a pre-teen, tween-aged and teenaged girl during those years. So I have a running start!



A 54-year old father's nightmare



More importantly, now that we know she’s going to be a she, we can come up with proper name. There’s nothing more embarrassing than settling on the name Jessica Marie, only to have a son pop out. I mean, it would be terrible for him to get beat up all those years at school with a silly name like that. Totally uncalled for.



            So, it’s a girl. Good start. The next thing is coming up with a name that is dignified, sensible and not open to getting her beat up at school. Granted, you can always go the safe route and choose Tracy. Or Alex. Or Addison. They can go both ways. But we choose to live closer to the edge.

You also have to make sure the name you pick doesn’t lead to questionable initials: Henrietta Ophelia Readling – HOR – or Barrimore Angelique Readling – BAR, for example.  Or, my favorite, Larinda Yvonne Readling – LYR.

            See! It takes a lot more thought than you realize.

            To that end, I now find myself scouring anything and everything for good names. You listen to names on TV and the radio. You pull names off the fronts of magazines. I find myself reading waitresses nametags for ideas. Yeah, I always did that anyway, but only because it was good excuse to stare at breasts. Now, I’m actually paying attention.

            Then, of course, there is the help you get from outside. Two women at work decided I could name her Mary Susan. Or Susan Mary. Susan and Mary said they didn’t really care which way it went.

Alex brought over a book with 30,000 names in it. And we can’t thank her enough. No, really. We can’t. It’s 6 inches thick and weighs 17 pounds. What’s even better is the fact all those names have meanings. For example, did you know Kallirroe means “beautiful stream” and that the name Delphin is born from a 4^th century saint who was bishop of Bourdeaux, or that Pepper is a named derived from the name “of a pungent spice”? Very helpful, to say the least.

            My mother has sent in her suggestions via email: Henrietta was one. So was Penelope. And Maura and Laurel.



What an Oua'Neisha might look like (at least according to Google Image Search)



            Mumsy and my sister even donated some special family heirlooms, which could help us decide on a name. First, a little history: For years, my mother would scour the Births section of the newspaper (both in Jupiter and Orlando), looking for, um, unique names. Ahem, unique, names like (and I’m just choosing randomly here) Consolatrix, Harbhajan, Oua’Neisha and Rickxon. There are also very helpful comments in these books. Such as: Hardat (this kid is hardat work) and Haybat (how his father calls his mother).

             Anyway, they put together not one, but two, 50-plus page lists (compiled by Mother Dearest, edited and published by Sister Darling), which have been donated to Melissa and I. They are titled Sally’s Name Your Chillin Book and are very helpful, as is most everything my mother does for me. Part of writing a blog is the unrivaled ability to suck up to your parents, thereby ensuring better Christmas presents. Sorry, Sarah.

             Needless to say, with all this help, we should have a baby name in no time at all. That doesn’t mean there’s an announcement upcoming, or anything like that, I’m just saying if you catch me staring at the chest of some college girl who happens to be bringing me food, lay off, I’m just researching baby names.





Seriously!! All she's missing is a name tag!



And The Verdict Is...

Baby High Five

We're into Week 17, which meant another trip to the ultrasound doctor and THAT meant another chance to see baby up close. I'm seriously considering buying an ultrasound machine for home, just because it makes for such cool TV.

The baby is 4 inches from crown to rump, 8 inches overall and weighs a whopping 8 ounces. For all you vegetarians out there, the book described it as the size of a turnip. I'm not a big turnip guy, so we're going with medium-sized tomato. In any case, the baby is big enough now that they can do a bunch of measurements. After hearing that the legs made up half the body, I immediately started researching basketball schoalrships at Duke. Apparently, everything will even out, however, and I will end up paying for college after all. Anyway, all the measurements were normal. Head is good, heart has four chambers (we got to see the blood move in and out), there's a top lip, two ears (one on each side, which was good hear. No pun intended), a nose, stomach on the correct side, gall bladder, two kidneys, ten fingers, ten toes and a perfect little spine. Oh!! And a vagina.

This will help you out NONE. The way it was described to me was "Imagine your baby is sitting on a toilet and you're in the bowl, looking up. That's what this view is." There are apparently three lines which show up pretty well in this shot that say my 50's will be ruined by a teenaged girl.

Yes, the darling little princess is going to be a girl, which is kind of good because the only baby names Melissa and I have ever discussed have been girl's names. Ever. And it would have been embarassing to run around with a boy named Gabriella. Not that we're naming it that, but you get the idea.

The best news is now Melissa knows what color to paint the baby's room when we get a house with a baby's room in it. And she can start buying girls clothes. Thank God! Our long national nightmare of her not being able to shop is over!!

It was also good news because the Habitat for Humanity office is full of pink stuff for their Women Builds and my boss and co-worker, Peggy, immediately appropriated some of that for my office. So, I now have pink curtains and a "Girl Power, Girls Build" shirt which fit the big overstuffed teddy bear Margot got me a few weeks ago and currently holds down my printer.


Girl Bear!!



Curtains!!!





The other good news is Melissa's morning sickness seems to have passed and she's into the "fun" part of pregnancy. You know, the part where you're not too big to fit through a door, but still able to eat whatever you want because you're pregnant. Last night she discovered Baby Girl likes Yoo-Hoo. She drank one of the drink boxes and the baby immediately started kicking around. Which she loved! I don't think anyone has ever had as much Yoo-Hoo in one day as Melissa did today.




Another cool deal was Melissa felt the baby move for the first time yesterday while we were at the doctor. The tech had the ultrasound on her (baby on TV) and said "THAT was a good one." Melissa asked if that was the baby kicking and the woman said "Yes. And it was a strong one." The coolest thing was I got to watch it on the screen. So, when she felt her first kick, I got to see it. It was more like a whole body spasm, but it was still fun to watch.

The Cost of Children

It has been brought to my attention that babies are expensive. We have some really good plans to dress it in paper towel diapers (extra thick in the winter) and feed it table scraps, but everyone keeps saying it's going to require money to pull this off.

Well, I never really had any idea how expensive until I got an email from Janice. In this delightful electronic missive, I opened the PowerPoint presentation, listened to the wonderful music and set to learnin' about babies and dollars.

According to the various slides, it will cost us $160,140 to raise a baby from birth through its 18th birthday when, technically, we will be able to boot it off to some college and go back to our jetsetting lifestyle. Look out Miami Beach, here we come! In 2029...

Then again, I think we all know that baby raisin' doesn't stop at age 18. It also means that $160K doesn't even include college, which most people seem to think will cost another $160,000. That means the first 18 years are cake, it's the next four that really kill you.

Janice's little slide show isn't meant to be a horror movie. It actually works to comfort the expectant parent by breaking down the cost per day. It ends up being $24.24 per day to raise a child. For those of you who aren't good at math, that's $1.01 per hour. PER HOUR! Including the hours you're sleeping. I know parking meters that are cheaper.

I think the author of the presentation realized his mistake of trying to make people think that $1.01/hour is a reasonable rate to raise a child because it immediately switched to cute pictures of kids doing things kids do. Smiling, drooling, swinging, crawling, drooling, wobbling across floors, slipping drool, eating terribly messy foods, etc.

The whole goal, in my opinion, is to shock the living hell out of you by hitting you with the $160,140 number, then spending the next 10 minutes softening that blow with cute pictures of tiny toes. That way, by the end, you forget the original number - $160,140 - and they can still get away with, we-told-you-so.

I tried to put the PowerPoint on here, but it doesn't want to go. Sorry, you're going to have to come up with your own cute baby pictures. Or you can go here - http://www.itstime.com/priceofchildren.htm - and see a version of the presentation, without the cute pictures, but with cute clip art. Some of which even moves!

In any case, here is the text:

The Price of Children

The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140 for a middle income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition.

But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into:

$8,896.66 a year,

$741.38 a month, or

$171.08 a week.

That's a mere $24.24 a day!

Just over a dollar an hour.

Still, you might think the best financial advice is: don't have children if you want to be 'rich.' Actually, it is just the opposite. What do you get for your $160,140?

Naming rights. First, middle and last!

Glimpses of God every day.

Giggles under the covers every night.

More love than your heart can hold.

Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.

Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.

A hand to hold, usually covered with jelly or chocolate.

A partner for blowing bubbles and flying kites.

Someone to laugh yourself silly with — no matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed that day.

For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to:

finger-paint,

carve pumpkins,

play hide-and-seek,

catch lightning bugs, and

never stop believing in Santa Claus.

You have an excuse to:

keep reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh

watching Saturday morning cartoons,

going to Disney movies, and

wishing on stars

You get to:

frame rainbows, hearts and flowers under refrigerator magnets

collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas, hand prints set in clay on Mother's Day and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.

For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck. You get to be a hero just for:

retrieving a Frisbee off the garage roof,

taking the training wheels off a bike,

removing a splinter,

filling a wading pool,

getting the cat out of a tree,

coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and

coaching a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream regardless.

You get a front row seat to history to witness the:

first step,

first word,

first bra,

first date, and

first time behind the wheel.

You get to be immortal. You get another branch added to your family tree, and — if you're lucky— a long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren and great grandchildren. You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice, communications and human sexuality that no college can match.

In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there under God. You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them forever and love them without limits,

So, one day they will — like you — love without counting the cost. That is quite a deal for the price!!!!!!!

Love & enjoy your children & grandchildren!!!!!!!

 

 

Thank you, Janice!

Things To Think About (I Hope They Don't Keep You Awake)

There are several things I think you should consider before becoming a parent.

Like, for example, you have to make sure you’re financially responsible. You don’t want to bring a child into the world and have to clothe it in banana leaves and wipe its butt with grass clippings because you don’t have enough money to buy diapers and we already talked about not recycling poo for food.

Just make sure there is enough money to support you, your wife and, of course, the whole reason this blog exists, the baby. Oh! And to keep the Jack Daniels Distillery in business. That’s an important one.

To that end, I sold the boat and made enough to pay it off, along with a credit card. Point, Mike!! I figure it’s trading a boat for a baby. Fair enough. Though I don’t know how that kid is going to carry me into 12 inches of water as I stalk a 30-inch snook. But that’s a different blog entry, I think.

We’ve also done several other things to make sure we can afford Gerber baby food, as opposed to Flavorite or whatever Circle K is peddling these days. But most are illegal and I can’t talk about them on a public blog. If pimping is illegal, they’re ALL illegal.

I think you should be healthy when you decide to become responsible for another human being for the next 18 years. Okay, 20 years. 25? 30, right? All right, 37 and counting. Thank you Mommy and Daddy!

Mike's Big Sacrifice

In the spirit of overall health, I took what is perhaps the biggest jump of all. I bought LOW SODIUM bacon. Not only did I buy it. I ate the whole package. And, no, not at once, that would defeat the purpose. I spread it out over a number of days (2) so my taste buds didn’t really know what was going on.

It’s a big step though.

Editor’s note: I’m being forced to watch the University of Miami open up their season against FAMU on ESPN 360, which is only a real thing because the internet says so. Which is ironic since the internet is the only place I can get that “station”. That has nothing to do with babies, but it pisses me off, so I thought I’d let you know.

Another thing you need to know: Having sex doggy style means you’re having a boy.

This Makes Boys

This is not an announcement, a pronouncement, a denouncement or any other kind of nouncement. It is a scientific fact (according to the stupid internet, which invents channels for you to watch football on). I wouldn’t believe it but, if any guys read this, it might help your cause the next time your girl wants to have a baby. Just sayin’.

We won’t find out if we’re having a boy or a girl for a few more weeks, so you’ll have to keep guessing how it happened.

Finally, this is a perfect example of why I feel I am fit to be a father. And topical, too. And timely.

My boss, Margot, and I took a tour of the old Frances Langford/Evinrude estate today. Edenlawn Plantation. If you get the chance to go….sure, why not? I did.

Along the way, we found a fruit tree that the guide said was a starfruit tree. I know a starfruit and those testicle-looking things hanging from it wasn’t starfruit. So she picked it up and brought it back to the office.

As we were trying to figure out what it was (thank you, Google Images) I cut it in half and was playing with the insides. It was hard to cut and obviously not ripe. But I pulled the seed out, sniffed it real close to my nose, played with the fruit part, etc. General inspection. Not like the kind Paris Hilton is gonna get when she goes to prison.

Margot was reading the internet and said “Well, taste it. See what it tastes like.”

I’ve grown up in Florida and lived here long enough to know nothing goes in your mouth unless you know exactly what it is. Or who it is, in some cases but, again, another blog entry, I think. I also knew she was half-kidding.

She kept reading, while I kept sniffing and prodding it.

“It’s an ackee,” she said, reading the web page. “Ackee was first introduced to Jamaica and later to Haiti, Cuba, Bali, Barbados and others. It was later introduced to Florida in the United States.”

More: “The dried seeds, fruit bark and leaves are used medicinally,”

Ackee....poison.

I sniffed and prodded some more. She read on: “The fruit is used to produce soap in some parts of Africa. It is also used as a fish poison and is POISONOUS TO HUMANS UNTIL FULLY RIPE.”

I immediately washed my hands. And my nose.

The point of that story is, if I will purposely pass up the opportunity to taste a brand new, foreign fruit, despite the urging of an authority figure, I’m certainly mature and wise enough to bring a child from pooping and peeing mess to serviceable member of society.

Thank you, Jamaica! (And Snoop Dogg).