Thanks, The Universe!

     The world of parenting is changing at an extremely rapid pace.  My mother-in-law recently posted a Huffinton Post article that said "not that long ago and you could stick a toddler on the front lawn with just the dog watching and nobody would bat an eye at it."  I think this shows how drastically different what Grandma and Grandpa did is compared to what we're doing nowadays.  There's new child rearing methods, new technology and constantly changing medical advice.   All this is to say there is literally no way to know that what you're doing is right.  All you can do is follow your instincts.

     One of our first "instinct" issues that arose was daycare.  Both the wife and I have known that we would love to not have to put our daughter in daycare.  I realize that in this day and age daycare has become a fact of parenthood, but it wasn't something we were ready to accept.  Unfortunatley, there were several factors, mostly financial, that made daycare seem like a forgone conclusion.
 
     One of the things that I find amazing about my dear wife is that she seems able to will things into reality.  All she needs to do is want something hard enough and it seems the universe obliges her.  One night Kate and I were having the very difficult discussion about the reality that Amelia would be spending 5 days a week in daycare.  This lead us to thinking about all the wonderful things that there was a good chance we'd be missing.  First smile?  Probably at someone who wasn't us.  First laugh? At something other than her dad's silly face.  First steps?  Good chance that'd be in someone else's home.  I asked "What can I do?"  Through tears her answer was both heartbreaking and pragmatic "Let me be sad about this tonight," she said "and tomorrow I'll work on accepting it." The universe heard that and got to work.

     The following day my boss called me into his office.  We sat down and he informed me that they were looking at several ways of making our office more efficient.  One of the ways being discussed, he said, was shifting one of the part timers down to full time.  He knew that I'd expressed interest in spending some time at home once the baby arrived and was wondering if that was something I'd be interested in.  I sat down and in a very non-Mike display of forward thinking and planning.  I figured out numbers and budgets and saw exactly how we could make it work. 

 

     The excitement and relief that came when I told Kate about this new oppurtunity is what I like to refer to as "Husband Hero Moments".  I LIVE for these moments.  And with that it was now set that two and a half days out of the work week Amelia would be staying at home with me and the other two and a half she'd be at a very nice in-home daycare.  Is this the ideal situation?  No, but it is better.  And now we've just upped our odds of seeing that first smile, hearing that first laugh and watching that first step.  And if it happens at daycare, well, she'd better keep her trap shut about it.

Names

     The most recent blog post got me thinking about how Kate and I's naming journey was a pretty good parallel to our slowly increasing level of responsibility.  In the spirit of illustrating our gradual slide into adulthood, I present the following chart.  (for adorability's sake I have excluded any cars, residences or any other inanimate objects we've assigned names over the years.  Sorry "Shoe" the car.)

 

 

And Our Daughter's Name is...

     Throughout the course of our relationship, Kate and I have had the pleasure of naming several things.  The first thing we named was a fish.  It was a tiny beta that we named "Superdude" because the ironic disonance of such an epic name for a little fish was hillarious to us. 

 

     The next creature to be named was a hamster.  Kate was in her first apartment alone and was looking for something to blame the bumps in the night on.  What Kate was saying was "I want a cat."  What I heard was "I want a hamster." Epic communication skills, even at nineteen. Thus the short-lived reign of "Gordon" began.  We named him after our favorite Barenaked Ladies album at the time. So hardcore.

 

     Shortly after my drastically missing the point, we did wind up getting a cat for Kate, which we named Murphy.  At the time we were fairly certain that Murphy was a girl and thought we were being all punk rock by giving her a male name.  Turns out Murphy was just incredibly fluffy, obscuring his boy parts, so we weren't being so subversive after all.

 

Can you blame us?  That's one GORGEOUS cat.

 

     There was Penny next who we named for my favorite web comic at the time, and Buster whom we named after a character from Arrested Developent (after briefly being Baxter, named after the dog from Anchorman). 

 

     So we had names based on a rock album, ironic detachment, punk rock fight-the-system ethos, and finally comics and movies.  Which is to say I felt like we had this naming thing down.  Then we got pregnant. 

 

     From day one the name was a ongoing discussion between the wife and I.  The conversation really amped up once we found out that we were having a girl.  At that point it became much less theoretical and felt far more real.  There were many names that we liked, but we couldn't settle on just one.  So we decided that we were going to hold name auditions.  Every day we would call our daughter something different and see how it felt. 

 

Day One: Lucy - Loved it!
Day Two: Amelia - Loved it!
Day Three: Luna - Liked it, but it's a little weird.
Day Four: Hazel - Like it, but it just doesn't sound "right".
Day Five: Margot - Like the old-timeyness of it, but it's just not for us.
Day Six: Ivy - I automatically think Batman villain "Poison Ivy" and I don't like the idea of my daughter being a insane, sexpot, environmental terrorist.

 

Not EXACTLY what one hopes for in a daughter...

 

     After about a week, we had it wittled down to Lucy and Amelia.  We loved both names and when we used them, they felt "right".  We tried to eliminate one based off of nicknames, both adorable and playground cruel.  Even heat.  We tried to do it based off of whether or not the name would sound respectable on a grown up; turns out we would both vote for a "Congresswoman Amelia Ferris" in addition to "Senator Lucy Ferris".  Another week passed and we were still at a loss.  What do you do when there are two options that you like just as much as the other?  Finally one night I turned to Kate and said;

     "I know how we settle this. We ask the wisest creature we know...  We ask Buster."

 

The wisest creature we know.

     After a bit of discussion we agreed that we would let our dog Buster have final word on our daughter's name.  It seemed only fitting, as his job would shortly become protecting her with his life, so may as well let the fella have a say.

 

     I went to the kitchen, grabbed to treats and had Buster sit in front of Kate and I.  I held a treat in each hand.  Lifting my left I said "Buster, this is Lucy."  I lifted my right, "Buster, this is Amelia."  Slowly I set each on the ground about four feet from one another.  Buster's tail twitched back and

forth with excitement, but being a good boy, he stayed until I gave him the signal.  Once more I gestured left "Lucy" and then right "Amelia." I lower my arms from the "Stay" position and said

 

    "Okay, Buster!"

 

     Buster shot off with all of his stored up excitement and with no hesitation goes right. 

 

     Everyone, we can now say a big hello to our little girl, Amelia.  We can't wait to meet you.

Ultrasounds Are Weird



My Wife's Uterus!

      We're in a dark room.  My wife's uterus is on TV.  I'm sitting on a stool behind the technician while she pokes my wife's belly with a little wand.  The screen is facing away from Kate but I can clearly see what's going on.  The technician is making polite small talk, but not saying anything of substance.  I just want her to say "Oh look at her lady parts!" or "now THAT is a son!", but instead she's clicking her buttons and measuring femurs arms and baby cranium.  I'm trying not to ask too many questions, as I don't want her to distract her from her important job of bits finding.

     There's a breif panicky moment when she tells us that the baby is hiding behind Kate's belly button, so she can't see what she needs to see.  So what is the professional, medically sound way of dealing with this?  She pokes the baby!  This results in the strangest thing I've seen so far.  The baby looks cranky but moves (I'm pretty sure I saw some sass on the baby's face.)  The craziest part was seeing the movement.  Once the tech points out arms and legs and head (still no bits) I can really see the baby moving around, kicking, and even her heart beating! Incredibly surreal, but VERY cool.

     After snapping a couple other pictures she asks us if we'd like to see what we're having.  The moment of truth is at hand.  She turns the screen so that Kate can see it and there on screen.... is our baby's butt.  Huh.  Well, baby, the 5th photo taken of you was of your butt.  How bout that?  The tech points at the screen at an indecernible black spot and says "See that?  That's the labia.  You're having a girl!"

***************************

2 weeks ago a work conversation turned towards my wife and I's pregnancy.  A woman asked me "Do you have an preference as to what you'll have?"  As anyone who has read previous blog entries know, the answer is, not really.  I explain that I'm a fan of novelty, so if I already had a boy or girl, the answer would be, whichever I don't already have.  As that's not the case the answer is, either way.  The woman informs me, "Oh, it's your first?  Well then you need to have a boy." 

"Oh really?  Why's that?" I ask.

"So that he can look out for any girls you  might have!"  She replies, completely seriously.

"" I responded.

I decided at that point that I hoped to have a girl.  Not because I'm THAT contrarian (I'm not, and anyone who tells you different is wrong!) but because we need more girls out there to counter this type of attitude.  We need more rough and tumble, confident, intelligent and independent women.  My girl will look out for herself, thank you very much.  And if another baby comes along later, boy or girl, they'll look out for each other!  Not because of antiquated gender roles, but because they're siblings, damnit, and that's what people who love each other do!

***************************

Back in the ultrasound room Kate and I squeeze each other's hands and look at our little girl on the screen.  I use the pronoun "She".  We toss the word "Daughter" back and forth, seeing how it feels.  It feels good.  It feels right.  So we've got our daughter.  We've got our pronoun.  Now all we need is a name.  And to paint the nursery.  And take birthing classes.  And get some car seats.  And find a daycare.  And, and, and, and...  Hoo boy.  This just got REAL.



Dad element of excitement for the day:  I can't wait to take photos of Buster and my daughter.  Baby/Dog photos are my favorite. 

Things Overheard from a Pregnant Lady Part One

"My stomach is too full of baby and burrito!"

"I can't sleep because I'm too full of blood."

"Breaking  Bad is no Project Runway"

"I like leggings.  They're like socially acceptable sweatpants."

Thanks, Dad!

Dad, my brother and I on my wedding day.

    With The Kid on the way, I think it's important to look back at what makes me, me.  It's very easy to view yourself as a constant.  "Oh, I'm this way", but the thing to remember is you weren't always that way.  You were once a small wailing ball of puff that pooped and peed and ate and that was about it.  Then things happened to you; people happened to you.  Every little experience shaping who you would one day become.  So you aren't just you.  You're you in progress!  Since this is a dad blog, I thought I'd look back at one of the people who had a huge part in me becoming the Mike I am today; my dad!  Here's some things he taught me (whether he was aware of it, or not...)

LESSON 1:  SHOW DON'T TELL

    Very few of my Dad's lessons were of the Sitting-by-the-fire-in-his-study-with-a-cigar-a-snifter-of-brandy-and-I'm-gonna-tell-you-how-it-is variety.  Most of the things Dad taught me were by example.  Whatever I gleaned from him, it was through watching him in action.  Lead by example is something my dad had down!

LESSON 2:  DO IT YOURSELF

    Around the Ferris household, it seemed like there was always a project underway.  Whether it was installing a

sliding back door, putting in a new deck, replacing part of the driveway or putting new carpet in the basement, Dad was always up to something.  Even in situations where it necessitated a professional, Dad would be in the mix.  I don't know if the motivation was cheapness ("Next time I'll be able to do it!"), genuine curiosity, or what I seriously suspect was the answer...

LESSON 3:  HELP OTHERS WHENEVER YOU CAN

    Sometimes it's little things.  Mowing the part of the lawn that you share with your neigbors.  Or sometimes it's big things like helping a buddy build a garage.  He showed me growing up what it means to be selfless, helpful and focussed on others.  I've tried to embody that spirit in my own life, and feel greatly rewarded anytime I get to help out friend, family or stranger. 

    Dad did a heck of a job passing on lessons about being hard working, compassionate and friendly.  Everybody knows my dad.  And anyone who's ever met him knows that they can come to him if they need anything.  As a kid I was always under the impression that my dad was a super hero and could do anything.  Looking back as an adult myself, I'm sure Dad simply did the best he could using what HIS Dad taught him.  If I can do half as good a job passing on these qualities that my dad impressed upon me, I'll call this whole "Parenting" thing a success.

EXCITING PARENTING ASPECT OF THE WEEK:

This one's a little bit more than my previous EPAWs have been.  On October 2nd we find out whether we're having a boy or girl!  I'm quite excited to find out which pronoun I'm going to be using. 

XX VS XY

   For the next 5 weeks or so, I'm in a unique situation.  I have no idea whether my child is male or female.  This is ideally the only time in my child's life where I will have this particular issue, so may as well explore it now, eh?  I had a feeling that it would be a boy until I was kindly informed that "Paternal Intuition" is not a thing.  For the next few weeks we'll wonder what we're having and then we'll find out and all the wondering and weighing pros and cons will be absolutely for nothing because we'll have what we're going to have.  What this means is that really any thought into what I'd rather have is an excercise in futility.  So let's begin, shall we?

ROUND 1: GIRLS

    PROS:

• Little girls are so adorable!
• It would be my goal to raise a smart, independent, self possessed girl who didn't take crap from any boys.
• I would love to have a little princess to dote on. 
• There seems to be a special relationship between a girl and her daddy for her entire life..

    CONS:

• Oh gods, the stress. I would worry so much.
• I would be the basis for all of her future male relationships.
• I don't know that I could contribute in any significant way to disciplining my daughter since everything she did would be perfect and precious and adorable. 
• What if someone is mean to her or hurts her in some way?  I wouldn't do well in prison.
• Boys.  I was a boy.  I know their motivations.  This gives me cause for concern.

ROUND 2: BOYS

    PROS:

• I was a boy.  I know their motivation. This gives me the advantage.
• How fun would it be to have a little buddy to show the wonders of geekdom?
• It would be my goal to raise a respectful, open minded and compassionate young man.
• Burping contests.

    CONS:

• What if he expects me to know "Guy stuff"?  Like playing football, fixing cars and how to talk to women?
• Puberty is gonna be gross.
• My genes have "jock" in them.  What if my son is into sports and stuff?
• What if, on the other hand, I get my son into Star Wars, D&D and comics, and he ends up being a weirdo?!  Unlike his old man, who obviously evaded that particular stigma.... Okay, hush, I don't want to hear it.

CONCLUSION

    It doesn't matter!  Didn't you read the opening paragraph?  We pretty well established that up there.  No matter what happens, I'm going to love this kid more than anything.  They'll be my little girl/guy, my best buddy, my little princess/prince, my whole world.  If anyone hurts him/her I will not be held responsible for my actions.  I can't wait to show her/him "Star Wars" for the very first time.  He/she will go running with me all the time, we'll have an annual date to go to the Ren Faire and I'll teach her/him to play video games.  No matter whether they're a boy or a girl, I'll teach them to be open-minded, compassionate, caring and wonderful.  Because girl or boy, gay or straight, jock or nerd, he or she will be my child and I will love her or him forever.

Exciting Expectant Father Aspect of the Week:  I recently ran a Zombie Themed 5K in St. Louis.  It was so much fun that I decided when the kid is old enough, I'll let him or her pick one "Destination 5K" a year for us to run together.  Bonding time!

 

Congratulations, Daddy

     3 months ago, a batch of cookies changed my life. They weren't the world's most delicious cookies.  I mean, I don't want to mislead you, they tasted just fine, but the quality of the cookies isn't really the point.  The cookies were great, can we move on?!

     Taste levels aside, there was something very special about these cookies.  These cookies bore a message.  The message was "Congratulations, Daddy".  The next few seconds stretched out for what seemed like hours.  I stared at the cookies, those last five letters jumping out at me.  "Daddy".  Me.  Daddy.  Papa.  Pops.  Father.  The Old Man.  The Big Kahuna. Big Poppa.  Padre.  The Dread Pirate Roberts.  The responsibility that comes with those titles is a bit daunting.

    I've always known I would be a dad one day.  Since I was a kid it was just something that I knew.  The sky was blue, the Green Ranger was the coolest and someday I was going to be a dad.  When my lovely wife and I would talk about the future, it always included kids.  Even still, reading those words was a massive moment.  What kind of dad would I be? Cool?  Fun?  Stern?  Protective?  And even more importantly, what kind of kid would they be?  Would they be nerdy?  Would they be a jock?  Would they be funny and outgoing?  Serious and introspective?  Or some combination therein?  I suppose that's where the answer to all these questions lie. But how does one contemplate these issues in the 21st Century?

You start a freakin blog.

     So here goes.  I'll be checking in from time to time, sharing stories about what it's like to be an expectant dad.  I'll tell you silly or embarassing things that my lovely, pregnant wife does or says ("I can't snuggle because I've got too much blood!!!") Someimes I'll solicit  advice from any of you grizzled old veterans.   So there's our mission statement.  Let Project Ferris V 2.0 begin!

Dad element of excitement for the day:  Themed Halloween Costumes.  I'm thinking either Chewbacca with C-3PO or Luke and Yoda.