Site migration

All... I am migrating over to Google Sites for my blog and other things.  I am hoping that Shannon will begin her own blog which will be featured there along with videos and pictures that are soon to come.

Please visit the site and plan to follow this blog there.  For a while, I will maintain both sites but by the first of the year, I plan to exclusively use Google.

Website:
https://sites.google.com/site/jonesinforababy/

All I Want for Christmas

All I Want For Christmas...

I don't want a lot for Christmas

There's just one thing I need

I don't care about presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

All I want for Christmas is you.

These lyrics mean more to me this year than ever before. Never before have I wished for anything more than having you in my arms this Christmas. As you will find in the coming years, Christmas is a special time of the year; full of merriment and joy. The days will seem shorter but the love in our hearts seems to grow in proportion to the number of Christmas lights that dot the neighborhoods. You will never want for anything as I can promise I will provide for all your needs. There's only one thing that makes this time of year special and I can promise that we will provide that to you. That one thing is the gift of loved ones to spend this time with.

I won't ask for much this Christmas
I won't even wish for snow
I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeer click
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby ( GIRL ) all I want for Christmas is you

While family will surely tug at your heart both in delight and sorrow, remember there can never be a replacement for what they provide. Family struggles as famously depicted in the best of Christmas movies and I can only hope that our times together will provide you with years worth of movie-like memories that you can cherish. Loved ones are provided not only in family but also friends and neighbors. Little one, you will know love from so many people that we will surely have to put all the extra in a piggy bank for you to later cash in. For me, those loved ones also include your “brothers and sister” doggies...

All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
And everyone is singing
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need
Won't you please bring my baby to me
This Christmas season though is tearing at my heart. For one, I can do nothing but think of you and how much this Christmas seems empty without you here. On the other hand, my heart is being torn from my chest in watching your sister doggie, Eve, losing her battle with Cushing's Disease. For as long as we've had Eve, I've done nothing but want for you and her to spend your days together. As you will learn, Eve has meant as much to me as the air we breathe but that pales in comparison to what we'll have together. One wish I have for you is that you will experience unwavering love which is what Eve has given your Mother and I. Your mother believes that Eve is just preparing to leave as a gesture of her love to me so that I will have more room in my heart for you. While I do believe that this is partially true, it is also a fallacy that I don't have a large enough heart for you and many others. Don't listen to your Mother or anyone else who says that Daddy doesn't have a heart. I keep my emotions bottled up and hidden to most but if you get to meet your sister, she will surely tell you that she has experienced anything but the most that love can provide. So little one, there is only one thing I want for Christmas. The one thing that will bring me family and that thing is waiting for you to see. I wish for my babies to meet to share their love. Before my puppy-girl answers her call from above.

Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Oh I just want her for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas is
You

Something's wrong with my package....

Something’s wrong with my package…

I believe we’ve been misinterpreting Santa’s “Ho, Ho, Ho” this whole time and instead he’s unleashing his anguish and/or fury upon retailers in the form of “No, no, no”. 

Never once during my childhood did I receive anything from Santa that I had to wrassle free from the grips of insane packaging.  Maybe there was something written in the bylaws or contained within the collective bargaining agreement between those cold midgets… errr, I mean elves and Santa that stated something to the effect “we will not subject children of this world to the endless frustrations, to wit: packaging, that come between them and their toys.”  We have so much to learn from those from the great white north.

It’s time that I face the so called music (cue the “da da daaaaa” music) and admit that a package or several really, have gotten the best of me.

While continuing to prepare the little one’s room last night, Shannon and I (really one me) decided to remove the toys from the boxes in which they came.  All started with the great intent to keep the rabble and mess to a minimum but when I finally tore into the first box (an infant activity squishy ball thingy?) I realized I was in over my head.

First of all, it’s a damn squishy ball thingy so why does it need to be secured inside its box like it contained the secret nuclear launch codes?  Seriously, four of those little twist ties that have been twisted into place by some rouge machine set on the Rubik’s cube algorithm for parent failure.  At first, being the kind and patient soon-to-be father that I am, I set about undoing the twist ties but when I could not get my fingers into the impossibly small area between the ball and the package (insert obscenely juvenile joke here), I did what any father would do and set upon unleashing hellish fury upon said packing.

This Box Received Minor Damages

One look at Shannon’s face, a mix between awe at the raw power at which I tore open the packaging (like that of strongmen tearing phone books in half) and the horror that my patience had been worn so thin this early on, and I realized that I had been bested.  The retailers must have some hidden camera inside these packages so that, not unlike those TSA screeners, they get to laugh at you when they get to peek behind your façade.  I am not one who succumbs to defeat and after the dust settled… Adam: 1 and Baby Toy Packaging: 0.

Now I can only hope that Shannon does not swaddle our baby in a similar fashion or else I’m destined for a future of a lot of uncomfortable explaining to do.

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