Junior is now cutting two front teeth. Strangely, she hasn’t seemed to notice and doesn’t seem fussy about it at all. We figure in a few days she can have her own rack of ribs.

Mike expressed disappointment that I don’t blog about family life so much anymore. He’s no doubt referring to my humorous escapades like the time I painted my house with porn starlets or did battle with the Light Nazi. The truth is that, though I have many whimsical observations about life and stuff swirling around in the noggin, I just ain’t feeling the funny. In fact (consider this an upcoming preview), I’m working on One Nation under David Alan Coe, which may involve drinking and karaoke, and SayUncle vs. Lunch. The last original humor piece I wrote of any substantial length or effort was in December. And not many prior to that for a while.

I guess the realization that the US is headed down a pretty rocky road right now in terms of both international and domestic issues, coupled with the arrival of my daughter have got me a bit worried. Also, things at the office are hectic and, as such, I spend more time at the office than I (or the Mrs.) would like.

Aside from such observations, you, dear reader, may have noticed that my blogging lately is more of the linking variety and not the thinking variety. Just haven’t felt it. I should comment on Social Security (but I don’t care), the SOTU (still don’t care), the war (I care but have little to offer), and [insert your pet issue here]. I’ve also brought on some co-bloggers to aid in the content. They haven’t been pulling their weight, though [finger wagging!].

Despite not having much to say, I feel obligated to keep blogging. And I do. I still like it but can’t devote as much time to it as I have before. I still feel the need to draw what little attention I can to certain things, hence the linking to random gun and property rights issues.

So, there’s your state of the blog address. Any questions?

Holding myself out as a small L libertarian means that I do see the need for some services to be provided by the government. After all, I pay for them. My list isn’t very large. I expect:

Navigable roads

To not be invaded

If my house catches fire, I expect someone to come put it out

My home to not be located next to a bomb factory

If an intruder invades my home, I expect the police to show up, remove the body, and recommend a good method for removing blood from the carpet; or a good cleaning service

You know, the little things. But there are also other services that I specifically pay government and quasi-government agencies for as I use them. One of those services is water. Good ol’ H₂O. I like having water. In an effort to cut costs, the local utility in Blount County has decided to stop fluoridating the water supply. They say it’s for other reasons but word on the street is it’s about money. I can’t imagine it costs that much. Some folks oppose fluoridated water stating that it is medicating the water. Seems odd to me.

Today, Junior went to the pediatrician to get shots. This already horrifying experience was made even more so by the doc telling the Mrs. that Junior needs to take a fluoride supplement since the county no longer fluoridates the water. She has to take these supplements for eight years. Yes, for eight years. Unbelievable.

10 – When the in-laws have the baby for the night, your plans include getting lucky. And by getting lucky, you mean getting to bed early and sleeping in.

9 – At least weekly, there is some new gizmo that shows up in your house. You typically don’t remember buying it or what it’s for.

8 – You buy five gallon tubs of OxiClean.

7 – You can use new excuses on your wife like: How many times can I be expected to go into Toys R Us and not buy an XBox? or Yeah, you and I have a rifle but the kid needs one too!

6 – Your pitch for talking your wife into sex includes the phrases I know you’re tired but I’ll get up with the baby tonight and C’mon, it won’t take long.

5 – All other children are measured in relation to your child. As such, all other children are ugly.

4 – No time to finish lists

3 –

2 –

1 –

what this is:

/ l;;xccx 4bf,rr6d,trct6y5gycggccrg6rcggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcddd.vf xocccccccccccccccccccccxlko= jDWA/ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Or rather does it lead to the end of libertarianism? Eric, who has been on a roll lately, writes:

I’m sure I’m just being paranoid, but it seems to me that once you have a kid, you lose independence in a major way, and I do not refer to the loss of time spent taking care of the kid or earning the extra money it takes to raise a kid. I mean that suddenly, you’re supposed to be worried about what the other kids and their parents are doing, what the damned school is doing or not doing. Whether your kid is going to be drugged with Ritalin because he can’t sit still and pay attention to a moronic (and bored) teacher who can’t spell, add, subtract or teach, but who instead wants to yell at your kid about “gun violence,” tell him his country was founded by bigots who slaughtered and enslaved the world, and make him take classes in things like “anger management.”

As a new father, I do worry about the day Junior comes home and tells me her teacher said something stupid, political, offensive, or just plain wrong. I don’t worry that I’ll suddenly become an anti-gun extremist but I’ll be even more cautious about my firearms, household cleaners, tools, cooking utensils, electrical outlets, five gallon buckets, bathtubs, and the other miscellany around my house that could do her harm.

Yup, he’s a killer.

The Mrs. decided that this holiday season the Uncle family would do the family picture thing for Christmas cards. Her plan was to have a picture taken of me, her, Junior, Politically Correct Dog, and Politically Incorrect Dog. Since we can’t very well all head to Sears for such a wondrous occasion (large dogs at the mall during the holidays is apparently frowned upon), the plan was to have the in-laws come over and man the digital camera while the Uncle family stood around in uncomfortable clothes and tried to look happy (and comfortable) in front of the Christmas tree. So, here are the players

SayUncle: Despite the fact that I don’t do drugs, I suffer from the same ailment that afflicts comedian Jim Brewer. I look stoned in pictures. If you take 100 pictures of me, I will look stoned in 80 of them. I don’t know if I squint or if the flash makes my eyes lose focus but, as the Mrs. will attest, I look stoned in almost all of our pictures. I also am generally averse to wearing sweaters. I find them uncomfortable, scratchy, they fit too tightly, and restrict my movement. Being the holidays, I was required to wear a holiday sweater. I also can’t do the fake-smile-on-command thing. In order to smile, I have to think of something funny, be told a joke, or actually see something funny to make me smile.

Junior: She’s perfect. However, getting a five month old to smile on command is quite difficult, though less difficult than getting SayUncle to smile.

The Mrs.: She’s perfect too. She can smile on command (a quite beautiful one too). She can do this even while yelling at me.

The in-laws: One of the in-laws has the technical ability to operate our digital camera. One of the in-laws has the ability to make Junior smile on command. Unfortunately, it’s the same person with both of these abilities.

Politically Incorrect Dog: when treats are involved, he does all of his tricks at once. You pull out a treat and he will immediately sit, speak, shake and eventually become so flustered trying to do everything he knows that he’ll become a shaky, excited mass of fur and tongue.

Politically Correct Dog: when in a high-stress situation, he turns into submissive dog. He’ll generally just lie down on the ground on his back and avert his eyes from, well, everything. He’s kind of a pussy.

My initial thought on this whole adventure was that the Army Corps of Engineers couldn’t pull off getting a smiling baby, two dogs posing, and a non-stoned looking SayUncle together in one picture. The in-laws arrive and it’s on.

The first major task was getting junior to smile. At first, this was attempted by one of the in-laws jumping up and down, making odd sounds, and clapping. The problem was that, though it got Junior to smile, it made me and the Mrs. laugh as well. Not good for pictures.

The second major task was getting the dogs to sit and stay. Ordinarily, this is not a problem. However, the picture taking session lasted over an hour. You can’t expect a dog to sit and stay that long. It is also a problem for the dogs when the in-laws are caterwauling, clapping, and jumping up and down. This tends to excite the dogs. As mentioned before, Politically Correct Dog just laid down and rolled over. Also not good for pictures.

None of this worked. Eventually, Junior grew weary of the sound effects. The dogs got a little excited, then bored, then appeared to give up on life and sat there looking around. Time for other plans. We decide that the in-laws holding treats in the air for the dogs to get the dogs to sit would be a good idea. Also, instead of constant sound effects for Junior, it turns out that she smiles uncontrollably when you bounce her around. The new plan is that, with the in laws holding treats, I will bounce Junior in the air and, after the camera operator tells me she’s smiling, pull her close and pose. After about 20 minutes of bouncing and 52 snapshots, my arm hurts. Time for a break. We transfer the pictures to the computer and all the pics where the baby is smiling and dogs are behaving feature me looking quite stoned.

We try again. So, to be clear, here’s the situation:

The Mrs. is smiling patiently and dealing with my inability to look not stoned and my inability to smile. I am bouncing Junior in the air with a sore arm while trying to fake smile. I am also trying to time stopping her bounce and moving her into position for the camera click before she stops smiling. I’m doing this while thinking of that scene in PCU where the guy, who is stoned, asks Can you blow me where the Pampers is? I still laugh at that. One of the in-laws is holding a treat aloft to keep the dogs’ attention. Politically Correct Dog is trying to roll over on his back and act submissive for his treat. Politically Incorrect Dog is sitting, shaking, speaking, and doing every trick he knows to get the treat. The other in-law is trying to time the picture-taking so that we’re all doing what we’re supposed to be doing at the time the picture is taken.

Twenty later minutes and we score success. Total time: 1.5 hours. Total pictures taken: Well over 100. And it didn’t require the Army Corps of Engineers. People better appreciate these Christmas cards.

Junior started eating veggies recently (or rather veggies mixed with water and put in a blender and ground to paste). Here’s the aftermath. I think these were peas:

She seems to like them. She also started fruit a couple of days ago and seems to really like that.

A good right hook, however, may do it:

Following the news that a sex offender had moved into the town, parents are looking to adopt a new child education program called radKIDS, that attempts to teach children what to do if they are assaulted by adults.

The “rad” in radKIDS stands for resisting aggression defensively. According to radKIDS founder and former police officer Stephen Daley, his program gives children what other programs such as DARE don’t — empowerment.

“We teach children that no one has the right to hurt them because they are special, and that is the beginning of empowerment,” said Daley to the crowd of 35 teachers, parents and police officers during the Sunday afternoon presentation.

According to Daley, through radKIDS training children become empowered, learning to replace the fear, confusion and panic of dangerous situations with confidence, personal safety skills, and self-esteem.

The program, which combines tips on everything from fire safety and warding off bullies with a healthy dose of child self-defense moves, may soon see its way into York schools if Suzanne Heyland, a local parent, has her way.

First, it’s my job to protect my child. I realize that and I will do everything I can to do so. However, I won’t need the touchy-feely, tree-hugging, self-esteem, empowerment crap. The self defense stuff, safety skills and knowledge of how to react in dangerous situations is a must and trumps that hippie crap any day. All the self-esteem in the world won’t stop a criminal. Knowledge of how to escape and fight, however, will.

Well, sort of solid. Last night, Junior got her first taste of solid food. By solid, I mean one part rice cereal to five parts formula. As I said, sort of solid. More like liquid with the occasional chunk in it. The Mrs. was feeding her while I was videotaping the momentous occasion. The first bite, Junior looked quite confused. She moved her mouth a bit, realized it was OK and swallowed. Then, she grinned from ear to ear. She was obviously happy to discover that there is more than one type of food on the planet (she had only had formula for the last 13 weeks).

Me and the wife then switched (I got to feed while she taped it). Whereas she ordinarily eats between four and six ounces of formula, she only had about eight bites of cereal then washed it down with a sip or two of formula. Not much in terms of volume but I guess the different consistency filled her up.

A good time was had by all. Now, we’re counting down two more weeks until the introduction of baby food. We’ll be changing the consistency of the formula/cereal mixture between now and then to increase the food’s solidity.

Now, I’ve never been what you might call a prolific blogger at best, but it’s possible you’ve noticed I haven’t posted anything in a while. Well…the good news is: We have a new baby!

Yep, little “Boudreaux” was born last week. He’s been keeping me and Evangeline awful busy and sleepy.

Anyway, back to your regular programming.

Tennessee won last night, 42-17. The new, two freshmen quarterback combo was pretty impressive. Man, Brent Schaeffer can fly. He’s got legs, baby, he’s everywhere. Ainge is more methodical and quite impressive. No word from Jim Bob Cooter, though.

Update: Newest fan

That’s how long Junior slept last night. All the way through the night. 10:00 to 7:00. Her first time sleeping through the night. Excellent.

Sitting on the couch playing with junior the other night with a little stuffed dragon looking thing. Took the toy dragon and started making growling sounds (why I think I know what a dragon growl sounds like is beyond me). When I made the growl, suddenly politically incorrect dog comes running to the couch, jumps on the couch. He then puts his ears back, tucks his tail and rolls over on his back. He was being totally submissive because he thought I was growling, I guess. Weird.

I mean it hurt me. Junior got her shots today. She was a 9 week old trooper. They stuck the needle in and she didn’t flinch. The nurse pressed the plunger down to inject the medicine, and junior started screaming the worst scream I have ever heard in my life. It was heart wrenching. And, worse, it was followed by two more vaccinations. Pretty traumatic experience for her, me, and mom.

I picked her up after to console her. Then the wife had to get some holding time in. It was awful for us both but the baby seemed to forget it pretty quick. I know that it’s for her own good but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

I learned something about me today. If I ever had any doubt about my willingness to do violence to protect her, it’s gone now. If someone caused her that much pain and it wasn’t for her good health, I’d definitely use any means necessary to stop them.

At five weeks old, my little girl outgrew her first outfit today. I was trying to put her in a gown and was about to break out the shoehorn when the Mrs. says She may have outgrown that. Then she checks the tag, which says up to eight pounds. My daughter now weighs almost nine.

Funny story: A few nights ago, she starts crying for her 3 in the morning feeding. I get up, grab her and notice she’s had an accident that soaked through her clothes. I then take off her clothes and diaper, pick out a new little gown, and dress her back up. I get her bottle ready and start feeding her. A few minutes later, I feel warm. Then I notice I’m wet. She peed on me. I started cussing the diapers under my breath. By the way, one thing you learn as a parent is that urine is sterile. I go get some more clothes and another diaper. I remove her clothes and realize that in my 3 in the morning stupor I forgot to put a diaper on her. Just a gown. It could have been much worse.

I miss sleep.

Is it odd that the song Welcome to this World by Primus calms my daughter when she’s fussy? Thought so.

The happiest day of your life is when you witness the birth of your child. All the fear you had washes away and a sense of calm coupled with responsibility overpowers over you. It’s indescribable.

The second happiest day of your life is when you can pawn her off on the grandparents for an evening so you and the Mrs. can go have dinner with adults.

Screw you guys, I’m outta here.

Those child development people tell me, at this stage in her life (3 weeks), that my daughter has spent her time learning the features of the caregivers (i.e., she’s looking at us and has a grasp of what me and her mom look like). Why, then, does she try to suckle the couch?

Actual voice-mail message left on my service today from the wife:

Hey Hon, just calling to let you know that we had our first successful booger extraction today.

And this morning my little girl’s umbilical stump came off. No more sponge baths, which she hates.

The Mrs. has complained, in the past, that Politically Incorrect Dog (my dog) gets all the air-time. With that, here’s a pic of Politically Correct Dog (the wife’s dog) doing what he does (well, other than eating. He’s getting a little pudgy):

Well, I just realized I hadn’t posted anything in a while. The wife and I spent the weekend attacking The List of Things to Do before the Baby Comes. I’ve still got to get some cigars. We’ve been taking a class on labor and delivery and stuff; tonight we had a tour of the Birth Center at the hospital. Our instructor was showing us how the rooms have a phone, TV, VCR, etc. I raised my hand and asked, “What about wireless Internet?” As my wife rolled her eyes, one of the other Dads-to-be said, “Yeah, I was going to ask about that.” More eye-rolling.

Hey, they told us to bring something to play relaxing music. The laptop holds lots of Enya, and I figure why not use those extra CPU cycles to blog about the Miracle of Life?

My daughter, who is 13 days old, may be the youngest blogger ever. I decided to turn her loose on the keyboard and see what happens. Using mostly her feet, here’s what she had to say:

v vnnbjhtg mjk;lnl’
kjhfstf bn nmb bn n,l m;’ m, m;’
.; .m; nl,

Ain’t that cute and insightful?

You would think that when you have a newborn baby, you have one baby. This is not true. Sure, you have a baby but that generally consists only of the head and torso area. Those two areas comprise the baby. But the baby comes with four other entities attached. Two of these entities are mostly harmless and two are downright malevolent.

The two mostly harmless entities are the legs. I say harmless because, even though they act totally independent of the rest of the baby, they don’t actively engage in activities the baby doesn’t want them to. The legs just sort of hang out, literally and figuratively. They don’t do much.

The arms, however, are apparently evil. They are rather like that Bruce Campbell scene where his hand is trying to kill him. They do things that are quite contrary to what the head and torso portion of the baby want to do. See, I know for a fact that the baby wants the pacifier because when I put it in her mouth she latches on and goes to town. Then, suddenly, here comes this hand from nowhere and knocks it from her mouth. This makes her cry. I know she didn’t mean to do it but her hand, acting on it’s own will apparently, is merciless. This happens quite often.

Update: The legs, I have found, serve the nefarious purpose of keeping all items with pant legs off of the baby.

Doctor: [Explaining the procedure known as an episiotomy to me and the Mrs.]

Me: That don’t sound like it’s appeasing any damn body.

The Mrs.: Just keep your mouth shut.

All the stuff Dr. Phil told my wife is a bunch of crap. You don’t introduce the baby to your life, the baby shows up and turns yours upside down. It’s been a hectic week here at casa de SayUncle. Feedings every 3 to 4 hours, interrupted sleep, diaper changes, household chores, ad infinitum make for a tired yours truly and his wife.

Right now, the Mrs. and baby are snoozing, I’m blogging having just finished a glass of bourbon on the back porch with my new ever-present friend: the baby monitor. Things seem normal again and quiet. It won’t last.

It’s worth every minute of it.

it paid off: