Monday, November 9, 2009
My child is now a number...
Yep. Ricky got his social security card today. Now he's a number just like the rest of us. And he can start paying taxes. I wonder when the free credit card offers are going to start rolling in.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Being Dad
Well, I finally have some time to update this thing. This is officially my first post as "dad" beyond the announcement of Ricky's arrival.
I guess I've had some time here and there to post, but seriously, when you've got an infant, your schedule is no longer yours. When he sleeps, we either sleep, or eat dinner, or just relax. Although we're actually getting a reasonably decent amount of sleep (all things considered), that "relaxing" thing is huge... I've bypassed a couple of opportunities to go for a bike ride just because I've been so tired. And that's okay.
Anyway, his full name is Richard Walter Fargo... Richard after my dad and Grampa, Walter after Alli's Grandpa, Fargo, well, borrowing from Corey, "Because that's what the state says."
The day of Ricky's birth started early. Very early. Saturday the 24th started off just as any Saturday. I woke up, went for a bike ride, and just sort of kicked back like we normally do. We went grocery shopping. I made tacos for dinner. At about 11:30, I decided to turn in, and go read in bed for a while. I killed the lights at 12:30, and Alli came in a couple of minutes later. No sooner had I started to drift off, does she say "It's starting!" Nothing like a baby to wake you up... and he wasn't even here yet!!!
So we called the doctor, called our folks, and got ready for the contractions to get more regular. At 3:30 in the morning on Sunday the 25th, we headed to the hospital. At this point, I had been awake for going on 21 hours... And the fun was just starting.
I'm not going ot bore you (or gore you, as the case may be) with the details of labor... Let's just say that it ain't pretty. And the epidural is a godsend. Long and short, at 5:16 pm on Sunday, October 25, after 17 hours, little Ricky arrived. And he was perfect. Alert, looking around the room, not screaming too much, perfect. And within 15 minutes of being born, he had his first blowout. What's a blowout? Corey, I'm sure can answer this. Rob, I'm sure will find this funny. A blowout is when he takes a crap so big that it blows out the diaper, and soils anything and everything in his immediate vicinity. Okay, so not that big, but the diaper and the shirt he's wearing. And the stuff in the bassinett. And it's this nasty black stuff that looks like pine tar. You know, like you use to make sure you've got a grip on a wooden baseball bat. Fortunately, it doesn't smell - otherwise, I probably would have lost it.
So anyway, I stayed at the hospital that night with Alli. I didn't go to sleep until probably 1 in the morning. 42+ sleepless hours. Let the fun begin. I did sleep at home on Monday... well, what you can call sleep. I guess I spent a lot of the evening saying "Holy crap... I'm now in charge of the well being of another human life."
You need a license to drive a car. A license to carry a concealed firearm. A certification to SCUBA dive. But when it comes to the baby, you're in the hospital with a nurse at your beck and call, and when you go home, they make sure you have a car seat, and say "Here's your kid! Good luck!" I still maintain that there should be some sort of prequalification for child rearing. Yes, that's a judgment call and I'm making it. "Well who are you to judge?" Well, I'm first to admit that I wouldn't qualify for that license.
Things I learned about labor and delivery:
1. Take everything they taught you in the childbirthing classes, and forget it. End of story. Toss it all out the window. Because it doesn't go the way they show you in the videos.
Fast forward to Tuesday, and we're home. The first two nights were brutal. We tried to go to sleep when he did at 9:30, knowing that we would probably be up every two hours to feed. That would have been nice, but he got up at 11:30... and 12:30... and 1:30.... and 2:30... you get the point... Needless to say, grandma's visit was very welcome, and we took some much needed naps. The next night wasn't much better, and much like my brother-in-law, Mike, I was ready to send him back. My frustration was getting the better of me, and I was letting the expletives fly almost as loudly as he was crying. Finally, by night 3, we got this crazy idea... stay up with him until that midnight feeding, then go to bed. Wake up at about 4, feed, and go back to bed until 7:30 or 8 (and in a couple of instances after that, 9!). It worked. I'll be damned.
Saturday, Auntie Annie, Uncle Mike, Cousin Joey, Granny Kurler, and Grampa Rick came over. Ricky was on his best behavior, making us look like we knew what we were doing. Sunday, I watched football and NASCAR with the boy.
It's tough to describe what you do with a kid... He's needy. Feed, change, sleep, repeat. I really can't help with the "feed" part - suffice it to say, I am ill-equipped. But I can change a diaper in under a minute. And something that you don't think about - watch out for the little fire hose. Yes, I've been sprayed. Yes, he's pooped on me mid-diaper change. Yes, it's gross. I guess it's a fact of life though.
So what have I learned in these two weeks?
1. Infants don't do much. But they can be mesmerizing to watch.
2. Poop isn't funny anymore.
3. Baby farts are funny - especially when they hear it and get that "What was that?" look on their face.
4. Baby farts stink. Some of Ricky's could clear a room. I'm so proud of him!
5. Screw the environment... you couldn't PAY me to use cloth diapers.
6. If he's asleep and breathing comfortably, there probably isn't anything wrong. Leave him be.
7. You can (sort of) function on three hours of sleep or less.
8. If he's screaming bloody murder, he's either hungry, has poop in his diaper, or is just fussy. He's fine.
9. Forget swaddling in a blanket... Pick up some of those cheater swaddles - wrap him up tight and they velcro closed!!!
10. Yes, my kid is probably cuter than yours. But hey, I'm biased.
Oh yeah... How much do diapers cost? I had calculated it at about $6 a day based on 34 cents per diaper, plus 6 cents (give or take) on wipes. Based on 12 a day, that's close to $2,200 a year. Sure, this goes down in year two - I hope - but it's a bit of a shocker initially. The real pisser (ha ha) is that in a lot of cases, that diaper has a lifespan of 30 seconds. You think he's done, and then guess what - Ha! Surprise, Dad!!!
Tonight Grandma is going to watch him for a couple of hours and Alli and I are going to go out to dinner. We'll see how this goes.
I guess I've had some time here and there to post, but seriously, when you've got an infant, your schedule is no longer yours. When he sleeps, we either sleep, or eat dinner, or just relax. Although we're actually getting a reasonably decent amount of sleep (all things considered), that "relaxing" thing is huge... I've bypassed a couple of opportunities to go for a bike ride just because I've been so tired. And that's okay.
Anyway, his full name is Richard Walter Fargo... Richard after my dad and Grampa, Walter after Alli's Grandpa, Fargo, well, borrowing from Corey, "Because that's what the state says."
The day of Ricky's birth started early. Very early. Saturday the 24th started off just as any Saturday. I woke up, went for a bike ride, and just sort of kicked back like we normally do. We went grocery shopping. I made tacos for dinner. At about 11:30, I decided to turn in, and go read in bed for a while. I killed the lights at 12:30, and Alli came in a couple of minutes later. No sooner had I started to drift off, does she say "It's starting!" Nothing like a baby to wake you up... and he wasn't even here yet!!!
So we called the doctor, called our folks, and got ready for the contractions to get more regular. At 3:30 in the morning on Sunday the 25th, we headed to the hospital. At this point, I had been awake for going on 21 hours... And the fun was just starting.
I'm not going ot bore you (or gore you, as the case may be) with the details of labor... Let's just say that it ain't pretty. And the epidural is a godsend. Long and short, at 5:16 pm on Sunday, October 25, after 17 hours, little Ricky arrived. And he was perfect. Alert, looking around the room, not screaming too much, perfect. And within 15 minutes of being born, he had his first blowout. What's a blowout? Corey, I'm sure can answer this. Rob, I'm sure will find this funny. A blowout is when he takes a crap so big that it blows out the diaper, and soils anything and everything in his immediate vicinity. Okay, so not that big, but the diaper and the shirt he's wearing. And the stuff in the bassinett. And it's this nasty black stuff that looks like pine tar. You know, like you use to make sure you've got a grip on a wooden baseball bat. Fortunately, it doesn't smell - otherwise, I probably would have lost it.
So anyway, I stayed at the hospital that night with Alli. I didn't go to sleep until probably 1 in the morning. 42+ sleepless hours. Let the fun begin. I did sleep at home on Monday... well, what you can call sleep. I guess I spent a lot of the evening saying "Holy crap... I'm now in charge of the well being of another human life."
You need a license to drive a car. A license to carry a concealed firearm. A certification to SCUBA dive. But when it comes to the baby, you're in the hospital with a nurse at your beck and call, and when you go home, they make sure you have a car seat, and say "Here's your kid! Good luck!" I still maintain that there should be some sort of prequalification for child rearing. Yes, that's a judgment call and I'm making it. "Well who are you to judge?" Well, I'm first to admit that I wouldn't qualify for that license.
Things I learned about labor and delivery:
1. Take everything they taught you in the childbirthing classes, and forget it. End of story. Toss it all out the window. Because it doesn't go the way they show you in the videos.
Fast forward to Tuesday, and we're home. The first two nights were brutal. We tried to go to sleep when he did at 9:30, knowing that we would probably be up every two hours to feed. That would have been nice, but he got up at 11:30... and 12:30... and 1:30.... and 2:30... you get the point... Needless to say, grandma's visit was very welcome, and we took some much needed naps. The next night wasn't much better, and much like my brother-in-law, Mike, I was ready to send him back. My frustration was getting the better of me, and I was letting the expletives fly almost as loudly as he was crying. Finally, by night 3, we got this crazy idea... stay up with him until that midnight feeding, then go to bed. Wake up at about 4, feed, and go back to bed until 7:30 or 8 (and in a couple of instances after that, 9!). It worked. I'll be damned.
Saturday, Auntie Annie, Uncle Mike, Cousin Joey, Granny Kurler, and Grampa Rick came over. Ricky was on his best behavior, making us look like we knew what we were doing. Sunday, I watched football and NASCAR with the boy.
It's tough to describe what you do with a kid... He's needy. Feed, change, sleep, repeat. I really can't help with the "feed" part - suffice it to say, I am ill-equipped. But I can change a diaper in under a minute. And something that you don't think about - watch out for the little fire hose. Yes, I've been sprayed. Yes, he's pooped on me mid-diaper change. Yes, it's gross. I guess it's a fact of life though.
So what have I learned in these two weeks?
1. Infants don't do much. But they can be mesmerizing to watch.
2. Poop isn't funny anymore.
3. Baby farts are funny - especially when they hear it and get that "What was that?" look on their face.
4. Baby farts stink. Some of Ricky's could clear a room. I'm so proud of him!
5. Screw the environment... you couldn't PAY me to use cloth diapers.
6. If he's asleep and breathing comfortably, there probably isn't anything wrong. Leave him be.
7. You can (sort of) function on three hours of sleep or less.
8. If he's screaming bloody murder, he's either hungry, has poop in his diaper, or is just fussy. He's fine.
9. Forget swaddling in a blanket... Pick up some of those cheater swaddles - wrap him up tight and they velcro closed!!!
10. Yes, my kid is probably cuter than yours. But hey, I'm biased.
Oh yeah... How much do diapers cost? I had calculated it at about $6 a day based on 34 cents per diaper, plus 6 cents (give or take) on wipes. Based on 12 a day, that's close to $2,200 a year. Sure, this goes down in year two - I hope - but it's a bit of a shocker initially. The real pisser (ha ha) is that in a lot of cases, that diaper has a lifespan of 30 seconds. You think he's done, and then guess what - Ha! Surprise, Dad!!!
Tonight Grandma is going to watch him for a couple of hours and Alli and I are going to go out to dinner. We'll see how this goes.
Monday, October 26, 2009
It's official....
Yep. We're proud parents of a healthy baby boy! Richard Walter Fargo (Ricky) arrived October 25 at 5:16 pm.
I really can't complain about 36 sleepless hours, because Alli really did all the work. 17 hours!!!
The feeling is really indescribable.
After changing my first three diapers, I will say this... Poop isn't funny anymore.
More later... like when I regain consciousness.
I really can't complain about 36 sleepless hours, because Alli really did all the work. 17 hours!!!
The feeling is really indescribable.
After changing my first three diapers, I will say this... Poop isn't funny anymore.
More later... like when I regain consciousness.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Shakedowns from AT&T
Is this legal? Really?
A while back, I offered my commentary on how the "bundles" really don't save you any money. I still maintain this... My in-laws are still having phone issues after "upgrading" to the AT&T You-verse package. They're thrilled with their High Def TV though. I keep telling them they need to get surround.... or at least a Bose 3-2-1 like we have... but, I digress.
Anyway, a month ago, I was all stoked because we cut our phone bill from $60+ to $20 by going to a "local only" service. Awesome, huh?
Wrong.
I got our bill the other day. It was $37. That means our bare-bones telephone service is $20, plus whatever the minimal charge is to have the number unlisted, plus another $14 in taxes.
I'll repeat that last part...
PLUS ANOTHER $14 IN TAXES.
On a $20 phone service. All so my wife can have a burglar alarm on our house (in a city where 911 and police don't respond), and so she can have a lifeline to her mother.
Fuck you, AT&T. Or maybe I should be saying fuck you, FCC. Or fuck you, FTC. Or fuck you, whoever levies the taxes on telephone services.
Is this legal? Really?
A while back, I offered my commentary on how the "bundles" really don't save you any money. I still maintain this... My in-laws are still having phone issues after "upgrading" to the AT&T You-verse package. They're thrilled with their High Def TV though. I keep telling them they need to get surround.... or at least a Bose 3-2-1 like we have... but, I digress.
Anyway, a month ago, I was all stoked because we cut our phone bill from $60+ to $20 by going to a "local only" service. Awesome, huh?
Wrong.
I got our bill the other day. It was $37. That means our bare-bones telephone service is $20, plus whatever the minimal charge is to have the number unlisted, plus another $14 in taxes.
I'll repeat that last part...
PLUS ANOTHER $14 IN TAXES.
On a $20 phone service. All so my wife can have a burglar alarm on our house (in a city where 911 and police don't respond), and so she can have a lifeline to her mother.
Fuck you, AT&T. Or maybe I should be saying fuck you, FCC. Or fuck you, FTC. Or fuck you, whoever levies the taxes on telephone services.
Is this legal? Really?
Monday, October 19, 2009
Nothin' yet...
Dear loyal readers:
Junior isn't here yet. However, we are in the "any day now" phase. Further bulletins as events warrant...
- Management
In other news, I slept on Friday and Saturday for the first time in two weeks. It felt good. I got a decent ride in the dirt on Saturday, and was able to avoid going in to the office on Sunday due to Alli's insistence that "You're 20 minutes away. I'd rather have you being a basket case in the office and getting things done than being a basket case around here getting nothing done and asking if I'm alright every five minutes."
I didn't sleep again last night, waking about every hour when I heard Alli and asking "Are you alright?"
Yeah... i'm a train wreck right now. I guess I better get it over with now, as I'll have to be the one keeping his cool here pretty shortly. If the hormone-induced mood swings and emotions over the weekend were any kind of an indicator, boy am I in for an adventure. Now where's that bottle of Jameson?
Junior isn't here yet. However, we are in the "any day now" phase. Further bulletins as events warrant...
- Management
In other news, I slept on Friday and Saturday for the first time in two weeks. It felt good. I got a decent ride in the dirt on Saturday, and was able to avoid going in to the office on Sunday due to Alli's insistence that "You're 20 minutes away. I'd rather have you being a basket case in the office and getting things done than being a basket case around here getting nothing done and asking if I'm alright every five minutes."
I didn't sleep again last night, waking about every hour when I heard Alli and asking "Are you alright?"
Yeah... i'm a train wreck right now. I guess I better get it over with now, as I'll have to be the one keeping his cool here pretty shortly. If the hormone-induced mood swings and emotions over the weekend were any kind of an indicator, boy am I in for an adventure. Now where's that bottle of Jameson?
Friday, October 16, 2009
To the four of you who actually read this...
... i did appreciate the emails noting that you nearly pissed yourselves when you read that i am looking forward to junior's first f-bomb. stay tuned.
- management
- management
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Almost there....
Well, the days of being able to do anything without having to worry about getting a babysitter are rapidly drifting away. Alli's doc at least said that she should make it until close to the due date (10/26); so I'm not completely panicked yet. Next week is going to be my last week in the office, and then (assuming Jr. hasn't arrived) I'm going to be working from home for a week. Because that's when we are literally in the "at any moment" stage.
After Alli's doctor appointment on Friday when the verdict was "Not this weekend!" I decided I could rest easy. I hung out in the garage for a while, tinkered with my bike. I busted out my guitar and played for a bit while I had a beer. I forgot how much I enjoy doing that... It's been too long. We watched "1408" on TiVO, since we apparently have free Showtime for the next 3 months. Saturday I woke up and went for a bike ride. Since Alli was home alone, I did the Alameda loop - since it's really not that long and in a worst case, I could make it home in about 30 minutes.
You ever hear that expression "The worst day doing insert enjoyable activity hereis better than the best day at work!"? That's generally pretty true. I love to ride... Just hopping on the bike and pounding out a few miles just clears my mind... but it wasn't working yesterday for some reason. I just could not find a groove. I probably stopped 5 times in the first 7 miles and turned around. At one point, I realized that my front brake was rubbing ever so slightly... but it was enough to make it unpleasant. I fixed that, and things started to pick up a bit.
Perhaps the first sign that yesterday's ride wasn't going to be great was the asshole that honked at me to speed up as I was passing the Davis street onramp to the 880. I won't bore the three of you who read this with my rant about how shittily people around here drive. Instead, I offer this open letter:
Dear Asshole in the white pickup on Davis honking at me near the 880 onramp:
Seriously dude, I'm on a bicycle. I lack the power to ride as fast as you can drive. Which is surprising, because you were pacing me at 20 miles an hour, and never took any of the ample opportunities to safely move around me. You dug your grave, lie in it, jackass. When I realized that you were too stupid to accelerate around me, I kept riding as I legally should. I even got out of the saddle, and was in a full sprint where the road breaks off. Instead of passing me a quarter mile before, you used that opportunity to honk and give me a dirty look, as if I was trying to cut you off to get on to the freeway. Really?!? Did you REALLY think that I was going to pedal my bicycle on to the 880? Seriously? Get bent, pal.
Anyway, back to my ride... Once I figured out the little brake issue, the bike seemed to move much more fluidly. All started to get better, and I was feeling pretty good until I got to Davis and East 14th... This time, I actually found myself shouting loudly enough that a couple of people waiting for the bus stood up and looked at me. Another open letter:
Dear Stupid fucking moron with the goddamn cel-phone on her ear that needed to pass within eight inches of me:
Look, I know that Davis and just about every other street in San Leandro are poorly designed. I know that there's no bike lane. But I'm riding safely out of your lane, because I know you're not paying attention. But really, can you put the goddamn cell phone down for just a minute? You weren't on it when we passed each other at the light at Hays - what was so critical? Your fucking mirror came close enough to me that I felt you pass. Hang up and drive, asshole.
And once I made it back to Estudillo, LITERALLY on the home stretch, another asshole not taking the ample opportunity to safely move around me. This time, I received an engine rev instead of a honk.
Seriously, people, please review your DMV booklets and the motor vehicle codes. I am abiding by the rules of the road (which aren't rocket science) - please have the courtesy to do the same.
Anyway, those three little instances were just my indicators to bag it for the day. Yesterday's ride was certainly better than the best day at work... but purely because I was not at work.
Okay... so back to the "ticking clock" part here... Last night Alli and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite places - Hap's Original in Pleasanton. It's going to be a while before we can do that again. She had the prosciutto wrapped halibut. I had the prime rib. It was nice. We beat the rush. We had a nice conversation. I enjoyed my glass of wine. We stopped at safeway on the way home and bought cake. All in all, it was a very nice evening. One that I will savor for a long time... because I know it's going to be a while before we can do it again.
Junior, please just wait until at least next weekend... I've got a lot of things to wrap up before I go out on leave.
After Alli's doctor appointment on Friday when the verdict was "Not this weekend!" I decided I could rest easy. I hung out in the garage for a while, tinkered with my bike. I busted out my guitar and played for a bit while I had a beer. I forgot how much I enjoy doing that... It's been too long. We watched "1408" on TiVO, since we apparently have free Showtime for the next 3 months. Saturday I woke up and went for a bike ride. Since Alli was home alone, I did the Alameda loop - since it's really not that long and in a worst case, I could make it home in about 30 minutes.
You ever hear that expression "The worst day doing insert enjoyable activity here
Perhaps the first sign that yesterday's ride wasn't going to be great was the asshole that honked at me to speed up as I was passing the Davis street onramp to the 880. I won't bore the three of you who read this with my rant about how shittily people around here drive. Instead, I offer this open letter:
Dear Asshole in the white pickup on Davis honking at me near the 880 onramp:
Seriously dude, I'm on a bicycle. I lack the power to ride as fast as you can drive. Which is surprising, because you were pacing me at 20 miles an hour, and never took any of the ample opportunities to safely move around me. You dug your grave, lie in it, jackass. When I realized that you were too stupid to accelerate around me, I kept riding as I legally should. I even got out of the saddle, and was in a full sprint where the road breaks off. Instead of passing me a quarter mile before, you used that opportunity to honk and give me a dirty look, as if I was trying to cut you off to get on to the freeway. Really?!? Did you REALLY think that I was going to pedal my bicycle on to the 880? Seriously? Get bent, pal.
Anyway, back to my ride... Once I figured out the little brake issue, the bike seemed to move much more fluidly. All started to get better, and I was feeling pretty good until I got to Davis and East 14th... This time, I actually found myself shouting loudly enough that a couple of people waiting for the bus stood up and looked at me. Another open letter:
Dear Stupid fucking moron with the goddamn cel-phone on her ear that needed to pass within eight inches of me:
Look, I know that Davis and just about every other street in San Leandro are poorly designed. I know that there's no bike lane. But I'm riding safely out of your lane, because I know you're not paying attention. But really, can you put the goddamn cell phone down for just a minute? You weren't on it when we passed each other at the light at Hays - what was so critical? Your fucking mirror came close enough to me that I felt you pass. Hang up and drive, asshole.
And once I made it back to Estudillo, LITERALLY on the home stretch, another asshole not taking the ample opportunity to safely move around me. This time, I received an engine rev instead of a honk.
Seriously, people, please review your DMV booklets and the motor vehicle codes. I am abiding by the rules of the road (which aren't rocket science) - please have the courtesy to do the same.
Anyway, those three little instances were just my indicators to bag it for the day. Yesterday's ride was certainly better than the best day at work... but purely because I was not at work.
Okay... so back to the "ticking clock" part here... Last night Alli and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite places - Hap's Original in Pleasanton. It's going to be a while before we can do that again. She had the prosciutto wrapped halibut. I had the prime rib. It was nice. We beat the rush. We had a nice conversation. I enjoyed my glass of wine. We stopped at safeway on the way home and bought cake. All in all, it was a very nice evening. One that I will savor for a long time... because I know it's going to be a while before we can do it again.
Junior, please just wait until at least next weekend... I've got a lot of things to wrap up before I go out on leave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
