Apologies for light blogging and for not responding to people who leave comments but this baby stuff is time consuming. Changing diapers, feeding, swaddling, cleaning, and other chores coupled with a very irregular sleeping pattern makes devoting significant time to anything else difficult.

But I love every minute of it.

Politically Incorrect Dog is amazing at detecting poopy diapers. Sometimes, even before they happen or, rather, as they happen.

I did pretty good.

Baby girl, Six pounds, nine oz. 18.5 inches long. Perfect health. Couldn’t be happier. Mrs. is doing well. Me, I’m the most tired I’ve ever been and it’s not like a I gave birth or anything.

Updates later, after I sleep some.

Blogging may be light for the next 18 to 22 years.

Update: It will be tomorrow but busy, busy.

Should have written this sooner for the benefit of Les Jones, but when it comes to baby names my advice is to keep the names you’re pondering to yourself. When you start telling people what you’re thinking about for names, they all have a story. When we came up with names at first and would mention it to people, they would say things like (and I am not making any of this up):

If all goes as planned, in two weeks I’ll be a dad. Some random things that I have learned, noticed, or done:

Male nesting. It’s real. You don’t have the uncontrollable urge to clean. What you will have is the uncontrollable urge to build stuff. In the last two weeks, I have built a workbench, a dog house, a growth chart, and a small wooden box. This is in addition to my ordinary tinkering (built a computer, added some modifications to my Ruger 10/22, and set up a home network).

Your body knows. You start sleeping less. I suppose it’s nature’s way of getting you ready for the sleepless nights you have coming.

Since I’m having a girl, I will apparently develop (in about 15 to 16 years) the desire to want to beat the crap out of every pimply faced kid that looks at her funny. Time to start learning to control that desire now.

Apparently, everything on the planet causes SIDS. Seriously. Particularly, anything you may get secondhand has an increased risk of causing SIDS. It’s true. The result, we bought all new stuff. Sounds to me like a scam by the people who make new stuff.

Even though everything causes SIDS, no one knows what causes SIDS. It’s totally true. Ask your doctor. They’ll tell you they don’t know. But they do know that secondhand stuff causes it. It’s really strange.

You cannot get out of Babies R Us without spending at least $300.

Two common features of baby stuff: 1) It’s expensive; and 2) it’s disposable. Two hundred dollar car seat will be outgrown in only a few months.

On sex, neither you nor your partner have the desire.

Some of the details of pregnancy are better left unknown to the father. Mucus plugs? Ick!

After attending birthing class, the video was all of the miracle of birth I want to ever see. The video shows some women you don’t know. I can’t imagine watching the woman I love go through that. I’ll be there, in the room, with my wife. I will not, however, play catch or in any way get on the business end of the deal.

The part that really scares the woman is, surprisingly, not the pain but the fact she may make number 2 in front of about four people.

When the baby first starts moving in such a way as it can be felt, as soon as your wife calls you over there to feel it, it will stop. This will frustrate you and annoy your wife who won’t be able to understand why you’re not as excited as her.

Later, it’s amazing to actually see what is identifiably the impression of a foot on a woman’s abdomen.

You will see strength in the woman you love you have never seen before. It is truly inspiring.

I understand that before a baby is due, it is common for the mother-to-be to begin nesting. The Mrs. hasn’t taken this up yet. However, I have begun building things. I guess the pending addition has brought out the builder in me. I’ve taken up carpentry of all things.

I’ve never had any training and the only power tools I have are a power drill, circular saw and a Dremel. The only other thing I’d ever built before was basically a board with some cross supports that had clothespins attached. It was so I could hang the spices that I grow on it to dry. In the last couple of weeks, I built a growth chart for the baby and a workbench with an 8 feet by 3 feet table surface that could survive a nuclear blast.

Now, I am planning on building a dog house. I’m not building it because I think my dogs will really use it, after all they hang out in the air conditioned house on their my leather couch. I’m building it as practice to some day build a play house for our daughter.

Any way, here’s a website with some dog houses people made. Pay special attention to the one that has a patio and an air conditioner. I’m not going that far with it but the lengths some folks go to for their pets is amazing.

I guess it is the male form of nesting.

Via Gizmodo, I discovered Why Cry. It apparently can determine why your baby is crying. Pretty neat if it works. $100 price tag. Anyone heard of this thing?

Last night, the Mrs. had TiVoed Rainbow Fish, an HBO Family children’s cartoon about fish in the sea. She’s already perusing programs and recording things she think will entertain and educate our soon to arrive daughter.

Rainbow Fish strives to teach things and is basically your typical moral lesson in thirty minutes of bright colored animation. In one scene about one of the characters writing an article for the school newspaper that was completely untrue, the teacher reprimanding the student reporter said (paraphrased):

The press is a powerful tool. In the wrong hands, it can be deadly.

That’s a pretty good message for kids.

Readers know that the Mrs. is pregnant. Seven weeks to go. For a while now, baby has been pretty active. She’s doing somersaults, cartwheels, and generally moving around a lot. In fact, you can on occasion see movement through the Mrs.’ shirt. It’s quite phenomenal. Or so I’m told.

See, I rarely see it or feel it. I have this magical ability. Every time Mrs. Uncle says come feel, she’s kicking like crazy and I approach and place my hand on Mrs. Uncle’s belly, baby stops. Maybe she’s bashful or something. I don’t know.

As disappointing to me as this is, it absolutely frustrates the Mrs. She’ll ask if I felt something and I have to tell her that I didn’t. I’ve talked to a lot of fathers who report experiencing the same problem.

On the odd occasion she keeps moving, it’s pretty amazing. Also, we’re starting to get to the point where we can feel body parts (though we can’t identify which parts they are – but we’re told if it’s soft then it’s a butt). It’s pretty amazing when I can feel her.

We were told during the ultrasound that she was a girl. We asked how certain they were that it would be a girl and the doctor said she wouldn’t have told us she was a girl unless she was absolutely certain. Now, we have friends who are telling us that their respective doctors gave them percentages (i.e., we’re 98% certain it’s a girl). We didn’t get any percentages and were just told it’s a girl. The Mrs. now has this uneasy feeling that she may be a boy. That’s not a problem, other than the fact that we bought a ton of stuff in girlie colors.

Also, we recently took a bunch of classes on different subjects, like breathing and relaxation; breastfeeding; infant CPR; and a general birthing class. The majority of these classes seem to be tailored to women who are going to do natural childbirth. I wonder what percentage of women actually do natural childbirth, particularly since I think the Mrs. will be of the give me an epidural in the parking lot variety of pregnancies (though she swears she’ll wait as long as she can).

I have no intention of playing catch. I won’t be on the business end during labor. I’ll be there but, having watched childbirth during one of our classes, it doesn’t look like something I want to see. It’s one thing to see it happen to a stranger on video, it’s another the see the love of your life going through that. And I think I’d probably pass out. I’m squeamish.

After watching the video of the birth, I found some things rather odd. When the baby pops out (and after the head makes it, it does just pop right out), the doc just kinda tosses the baby up on mom’s belly. Apparently, the warmth comforts the baby and they try to do that as quickly as possible. In the video, the doc just tossed the baby right up there like he was slinging a hay bale, which caused mom and the nurses to reach for baby pretty quickly (after all, baby is, uhm, lubricated and may slip off).

Another thing is that you get to see 3D representations of how the various body parts and organs move around and change. Yeah, I had high school health classes and understood what was happening, but it makes it more understandable to see a 3D image of how a placenta fits, how the baby positions, and how mom’s organs move around (no wonder she has to pee all the time).

And people swear babies get hiccups. I don’t see how, since babies don’t actually breathe, per se. But we’ve had a couple of times where she was thumping in a definite rhythmic pattern that could have been hiccups. It’s pretty neat.

One more ultra sound to go. It’ll be neat even though we’re told that this time (since she’s so big now) that it may be hard to make things out. Looking forward to it!

Oh, I haven’t quite panicked about being a dad yet, but it’s coming.

My sister sent me a tube of this stuff. She swears by it.

I’ll find out in about 4 months.

When I first moved from my parents’ house after college, it took one pick up truck. I had no furniture and minimal belongings. Moving was easy. I got furniture from someone who had bought new couches and bought everything else I needed over the course of several months.

The second time I moved required two pick up trucks and a couple of friends because I accumulated more stuff (namely, the aforementioned couches).

The third time I moved, I rented a small UHAUL as I got even more stuff.

The fourth time, I rented small UHAUL again as I apparently didn’t accumulate significant amounts of stuff.

The fifth time was rather interesting. I’d finished my Masters degree and got a decent-paying public accounting job. I decided that the couches and other furniture (you know, cinder blocks with boards laying across them) that had served me well had to go. It was time to buy nice stuff for my bitchin’ new bachelor pad that I bought. As such, moving required only two pickup trucks. I abandoned my furniture on the curb of the place I was leaving for trash pickup day. Ah, new beginnings.

The sixth was when the Mrs. moved in with me. We only moved her stuff. Another UHAUL (she had more stuff than me).

The seventh move was the first time I hired professional movers. Me and the Mrs. went from my formerly rockin’ bachelor condo to a house in suburbia. I hired them because me and the Mrs. purchased a 60 inch big screen and I wasn’t going to move it. I’m not insured. Me and the Mrs. used Two Men and a Truck and our stuff filled about 3/4th of that truck.

One and a half years later, we bought a bigger place and again hired Two Men and a Truck. This time, we required two trucks and four men. Actually, that’s what we required. What we got was two men and a truck making two trips. We more than doubled our stuff in 1.5 years. Unbelievable.

Lessons learned:

When you arrive at your new pad, assemble your bed first. When you decide you’re exhausted and want to sleep, it sucks to realize your bed hasn’t been put together.

You need to warn your pets. Politically Incorrect Dog is inconsolable. He is still moping about the house. He appears to be suffering some sort of anxiety or depression. It’s not his first move and we took him to the new house at least twice a week while it was being built. He must have left something in the yard that we forgot. He is really pathetic.

Hiring movers is money well spent.

If you buy a bigger residence, you will fill it up. Learn to throw stuff away.

Some friends came over for dinner the other night and brought their five-month-old son. This proved as a test run for the dogs with respect to their interaction with babies. They both have a lot of exposure to small children but minimal exposure to babies. They both play well with children. Since Politically Incorrect Dog was a pup, we’d subject him to all sorts of dry runs for behavior. We’d grab his tail, ears, jowls, whiskers, feet and take various food items/toys from his mouth. He never once was aggressive while we did this, which is the goal. We’d praise him for reacting positively to these pokes and prods. We do these things so that we can get him accustomed to not overreacting and acting aggressively when these things are done to him by kids. That way, when a child grabs something, he will not bite.

Our efforts have been successful. Politically Incorrect Dog was very interested in the baby. He sniffed quite a bit and didn’t want to be too far away from the action. At the same time, we also don’t want him getting too excited or playful and jumping. He’d approach the baby and gently sniff or gently rest his head on the child’s tummy and we’d praise him. Once, the child reached up and grabbed a big handful of whiskers and started tugging. Politically Incorrect Dog was the model of good behavior. He sat patiently while enduring this pretty unpleasant experience and never once snapped or pulled away. In fact, he seemed excited about the experience in general.

As an added bonus, Politically Incorrect Dog can detect poopy diapers in about two seconds.

Politically Correct Dog gently sniffed a few times and was uninterested in the baby after that. They have no idea what’s coming. So, we’re also preparing them for that.

We set up the nursery and displayed some of the toys. The hard part is informing the dogs that those toys aren’t their toys. We let them sniff the toys and give them praise. When they try to pick one up, we gently take it from them and praise them when they let go. We are being very careful not to give unpleasant corrections when they show interest in baby stuff as this could make them uncomfortable around baby stuff.

Also, after little Ms. Uncle is born, I will make a few trips home with blankets and clothing that baby has used. I’ll let the dogs sniff the items and praise them so that they associate the scent with something pleasant. When baby finally comes home, the dogs will be introduced to her in the front yard, which they view as neutral territory. Since in our front yard, there aren’t territory issues for them to deal with they should welcome the new addition into our pack.

We are also acclimating our daughter to the dogs. See, we don’t want our daughter to be awakened by the sound of dogs barking. So, we give the dogs the speak command a few times a day. Little Mrs. Uncle already has ears and can hear certain loud sounds that occur outside the womb. If we get her accustomed to the dogs’ barks and our voices, these hopefully won’t scare her after she’s born.

Les discusses G-Rated versions of X-Rated sayings. I, too, have a potty mouth. This does remind me of this manager I had when in public accounting. He went to great lengths to inform people that he didn’t cuss and that he didn’t appreciate cussing around him. The problem with this was the fact that he did the G-Rated cussing. When something happened, he’d say Gosh darn it or refer to someone as a son of a biscuit. And my personal favorites were freak and fudge. I did a lot of freaking and fudging up, apparently

I realized that I was going to be a short timer in public accounting. So, one day after the manager let loose with a full-blown, Yosemite Sam, non-cussing rant regarding a particular client problem, I said Those bastards. He proceeded to give me the lecture about cussing, how he didn’t do it and how he didn’t appreciate me cussing. I responded thusly: Why the holier-than-thou attitude? You mean what I say. I just sound a lot less fucking stupid saying it.

I don’t think he got it. Oh, I don’t advise doing this in your own career. As I said, I knew I was a short timer.

If you’re going to cuss, do it right.

About three weeks ago, the Mrs. started feeling our daughter (whoa! feels strange typing that phrase) move around inside of her (she’s pregnant, ya know). She thought this was the neatest thing in the world. The frustration for her was that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel the movement. It frustrated me too. She’d get a bit annoyed because I’d lose interest.

Then about two weeks ago, I felt the first little flutter. It felt like little fingers on the other side gently tapping. Also, the little Unclette is very active now when the wife sleeps. The Mrs. goes to bed earlier than I do. I can come in at night while she sleeps and feel her moving around. Words can’t really describe how it feels.

Today was beautiful. 75 degrees and sunny. I drove home from the office with the top down on the car. Then it occurs to me. Those days will soon be over. I have child coming. I can’t very well strap her car seat into the back seat of a two door car and the fact that if my car flipped no one inside would live. I guess I need some sort of SUV.

I’ll need a daddy mobile. I can’t bring myself to drive a van. I thought this was why the Mrs. got an SUV. I’m thinking one of those four door 2004 F150s. Being a guy, if I don’t have a convertible, a hot rod or a motorcycle, then I have to have a truck. It’s a rule. Look it up.

After all, SUVs aren’t trucks. A man knows a station wagon when he sees one.

Of having children. Thanks, B.

As regular readers know, me and the Mrs. are having a girl. We’re very excited. Yesterday, the Mrs. brought up something we have to address at some point. As we’re sitting at lunch, the Mrs. asks me what I thought we should call private parts in front of our child. I, jokingly, said . . . well, think of the most offensive word for it you can and it’s not quite the word I used but is reasonably close (Hint: may or may not rhyme with latch). I was joking, of course. The Mrs. didn’t find that joke funny.

I know a guy who had a severe speech impediment that required therapy up through high school. The doctor’s opinion was that it was caused because his parents baby-talked to him for too long. Here was a 15 year-old kid who called cows moo-moos. I am not making that up. He also struggled with Rs and Ls; he had that whole Fudd thing going. It’s twue. I wouldn’t puw youw weg.

And I hate some degree of baby talk. Any bodily function or part that is referred to by repeating the same syllable just sounds childish. An adult shouldn’t have to say tee-tee, pee-pee, poo-poo, or ka-ka. So, we want to avoid the whole baby talk thing.

Conversely, vagina, defecate, and urinate are all a bit too sterile. They don’t make us future parents comfortable.

It is odd that if we were having a boy, I would have thousands of names for penis (which I won’t list here). Of course, finding a clean sounding name may be a bit tough. As a guy, I also have thousands of names for breasts. None of which I will ever use to refer to my daughter’s breasts.

So, we’re stumped. I figure we got about two years before it comes up. We got some thinking to do. Any suggestions are welcome.

There’s an old fable in public accounting that goes something like this:

Accountants dress like their clients. If your client wears a suit, you do to. Care should also be taken not to out-dress your clients. An accounting firm partner and staff went to present a bid to a potential client. The members of the firm wore suits and ties. They arrive at the client’s location and the personnel are all wearing jeans and T-shirts. The presentation goes well and the firm gets the job.

The members of the firm show up for the engagement when work begins. Recalling that they felt overdressed for the presentation, they tone their attire down and wear business casual clothing. They show up and, to their surprise, the client’s personnel are all wearing business suits and professional attire.

Dumbfounded about the dress code, the partner approaches a member of the client’s management and inquires about the dress code:

“When we presented, you were wearing jeans. Now we show up for the work and you’re wearing suits. What gives?”

The client responds:

“When you presented to us, we were buying something. Today, we’re selling something.”

When confronted with bullies, should you teach your kids to retaliate? I think so. So does Ted.

I am not making this up:

When I was about six, there was a neighborhood bully who had some severe emotional problems. He was about nine and weighed considerably more than me. He’d snap if a game didn’t go his way or he didn’t get what he wanted. I was never taught to be a fighter. He beat me up several times and I’d go cry to Mom. One day mom said that if I fought back, the kid would stop. Actually, it’s my mom. Who am I kidding? What she said was if I he kicked my ass again, she’d kick my ass again when I got home. Ah, I love my mom.

One day it happened. The ice cream truck didn’t stop (seriously, I’m not making that up). Psycho kid then took out his rage on the nearest thing. It happened to be me. He punched me in the stomach several times and kicked me some. It stopped. I went running home.

I recalled what mom said about getting two ass-kickings in one day. Not a good thing. I got to my porch and pondered. I stopped crying. I grabbed a Tonka truck (the old metal kind that are probably deemed unsafe for kids today due to some arbitrary federal regulation) and went back into the street.

I walked up to the bully and pummeled him relentlessly with the Tonka truck. He later required stitches. He never went nuts on me again. In fact, he and the other kids in the neighborhood never picked on me again. Justice was served.

I found out later that maybe I took it too far. Mom wanted me to fight back and kick his ass. Not necessarily assault him with a Tonka truck. I went a bit overboard but based on my parental guidance thought I made the right decision. Regardless, she was still proud.

That’s one of the many reasons why I love my mom and her wisdom.

Score! The Uncle household recently obtained the School House Rocks video. Only problem, it’s on VHS. To my knowledge, it’s not available on DVD.

Conjunction Junction, what’s your function?

One common misconception that most people believe is that they are underpaid for what they do. Even me, but at least I can prove it. Regardless, this truth is relevant in so many ways. I had an employee who, about one year and a half ago, came into my office with their game-face on and informed me that they could make $12K more per year by leaving and working at XYZ Company. They demanded a raise. I, in the nicest way I could, instructed them that if they could get that kind of raise elsewhere, then they should take it because it’s not happening here. I know what I can pay someone else for the job. They’re still here.

Am I a coldhearted bastard? No. This person has only a GED and no other particularly marketable skills. Kids today need to prepare themselves for this reality. My parents’ generation, for example, could get jobs right out of high school and be reasonably successful. My parents did. That’s not the case today. It wasn’t the case for me. If your only marketable skill is that you can lift heavy things, you’re career is time-limited and low-paying.

I’m not an accountant because I wanted to be one as a child. And most of you aren’t what you wanted to be as children either. I, for example, wanted to be a ninja. Sadly, this job is hard to get. I’m not Japanese enough, the agency told me. It’s a pity. They have really good dental and the uniform allowance is fantastic. I spent a lot of time perfecting my ability to disappear in a cloud of smoke for nothing. I’m an accountant because it’s marketable, opens up to other industries through wide exposure, and I’m good at it.

Kids today need marketable skills. There are plenty of fields that are quite marketable. The problem is these fields aren’t particularly fun or are particularly difficult. I’m thinking of law, accounting, engineering, software development, medicine, etc. There are also fields that provide great satisfaction to people but are low paying (teachers, nurses, policeman come to mind). These are all noble endeavors but may not pay the bills.

There is also the danger of overdoing it in one particularly unpopular field. I know a guy with a PhD in physics who manages a Subway restaurant. I know a person with a Masters in biochemistry who is in sales. Also, the Simpson’s had a joke about PhD’s at the bookstore. Bart walked up to the service counter and said a professorship opened up at the local college their faces lit up. Then he instructed them he was joking. If the people I mentioned above could get jobs in their field, they would likely be paid fairly well. Problem is that it’s just tough to get jobs in those fields.

There is a balance. Finding something you enjoy, are good at, and that pays decently isn’t that tough. I enjoy what I do but if you’d asked back when I was going to be a ninja if I ever thought I’d be an accountant, I’d have responded with a resounding No way, Jose. However, marketability is something to consider in this day and age.

Last night, me and the Mrs. conducted a practice run. We babysat our niece and nephews. Prior the picking them up, we purchased some Super Dough, which is like Play Doh except that if you leave it out, it hardens and can be sanded and painted. We were going to let them each make something and allow it to harden. Then, the next time they came over, we’d paint them.

The kids (age 3ish) quickly realized that if we allowed it to harden then there would be no Play Doh to play with in the future. Instead, they demanded that after they were done playing, we place it back in the container so we could all play with it at future date. They didn’t understand that we could go back to the store and buy some more.

We complied buy should have just bought the cheaper Play Doh instead.

And she says Hi!

Fixing to leave to find out if we’re having a little boy or little girl. No blog for you, until this afternoon.

Congrats to Andrew on his pending army! One week from today, me and the Mrs. find out if Junior is actually going to be a junior or a young ms.

Indigo tells us that people 30 and over should very likely be dead. This reminds me of a conversation between my sister and my dad:

Sister: We know so much more about child development and food that kids today are smarter.

Dad: You mean to tell me those idiots with the shit in their face, their hats pointing to the side, and the pants that hang down to their knees are smart?

So far:

Crib – $300
Dresser – $599
Armoire – $799
Glider – $300
Stroller – $199

And we got a lot to go.

While at Babies R Us, we discovered that in Tennessee a child less than age nine or less than 80 pounds must be in a car seat. To me, that seems a bit excessive.

Me and the Mrs. have been getting as gifts lots of baby clothes. These clothes are decorated with things such as dinosaurs, boats, baseball stuff, Pooh, and a variety of other cutesy stuff. Some things on these clothes are designed so parents can illustrate their hobbies on their child (such as the baseball stuff). I am rather disappointed that I can’t find a Sigarms, Glock or AR15 onesie.

Another thing I’d like to see are adult sizes. We got a flannel onesie that covers from toe to neck (it even has a hood). It looks darn comfortable and I’d personally like to have one (that fits a six foot one inch tall guy) to lounge around the house in on cold nights.