Colombian Drug...

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...

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?

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...

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

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

‘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.

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

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

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

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.