Merry Christmas

Happy Holidays to Everyone! We hope you all had a nice enjoyable Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus. If you're anything like us, you are off until after the New Year. We have so many exciting things planned for this week--change Bode about 100 times, feed him six squares a day, burp him often, clean the occasional spit-up, and work desparately to catch some zzz's in the interims. Can anyone top that for excitement???

We had a wonderful Christmas. It all began a few days ago with anxious anticipation for the arrival of St. Nick.
How could Santa even think about leaving a lump of coal for these three angels? For those that haven't been to our house (the vast majority of you dear readers), the wallpaper is not our doing; we plan on removing that sometime in 2008. What's sad is this wall paper is probably the tamest of our wall decor...we have some other walls that aren't suitable to show even on the internet (FCC regulations prevent such graphic images...)

JoAnne, Frank, and Jason (Bode's grandparents and uncle) arrived on 22 December. They tried to sit and rest after their long journey, but Auburn had something else in mind.
Nana brought lots of goodies and sweets, and we passed the days before Christmas gorging ourselves. In between meals, Jeff tried to sneak into the gift pile, but Auburn was assigned guard duty and kept him at bay...
Finally, after much eating, Christmas morning arrived. Bode got into the spirit by putting on his Christmas bib. And before you say anything, yes, he's lying on the dining room table. He seems to enjoy that--probably likes looking at the overhead lights.
Before we opened our gifts, we posed for a family portrait.
Bode wouldn't sit still because he was sooo excited about opening his presents (which is why the picture is blurry). We spent the next couple hours opening gifts. Bode loaded up and received tons of clothes and little knick-knacks. He was so excited, he fell asleep amidst the carnage of boxes, paper and bows...
On Christmas night, we all went to a place called Clifton's Mills--an old mill next to the river with 3.5 million Christmas lights (yes, really). The weather was seasonably warm and the light shows were very pretty. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera and don't have a single picture, but I don't think pictures of lights show up well anyways. This morning, JoAnne, Frank, and Jason headed back down to Florida. We might try to go shopping and catch some of the Christmas sales, but we're not sure. We hope you all have a great end of 2007 and really ring in the new year--if you have any good new year stories (drank so much you ended up naked on a train to Montreal, went to Vegas, stayed at the Luxor, and woke up three days later in the real Egypt, etc.), please share them with us. And remember: there are only 365 days until Christmas (2008 is a leap year). You better not be naughty because someone is always watching you!Pleasant day to all.

24

The following takes place between the hours of 6 am and 7 am on…hell, I don’t even know what day today is. Ashley, what day is it? You don’t know either? Well, let's just say this takes place some day before Christmas in December 2007...

06:00

Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff. Scratch scratch. Yaaawn. Gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee. Go outside go pee. Gotta pee gotta pee. Go outside go pee. Use your door use your door. Go outside go pee go outside go pee go outside go pee. Use your door use your door. Sniff sniff sniff. Squirrels squirrels squirrels busy squirrels digging squirrels. Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff. Dirt, dig in dirt dig in dirt. No. No bad dog bad dog dig no dig no dirt smells good no dig no dig no dig bad dog bad dog no dig. Gotta pee find spot gotta pee find spot sniff sniff sniff pee sniff sniff pee gotta pee sniff pee here pee here.

Sniff sniff sniff. Dirt smells good no dig no dig bad dog. Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff. Squirrels, chase squirrels, chase squirrels. Listen…Listen…Listen…

ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM. Front door ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM Front door front door front door ALARM ALARM ALARM. Inside ALARM inside ALARM front door front door front door. Run run run run run protect protect protect protect protect

“WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF! GRRRR. WOOF WOOF WOOF!”

“Auburn, we go through this every day,” a groggy Jeff says from the bedroom. “It’s just the newspaper man.”

ALARM ALARM. Listen…Listen…listen…no sound, good dog, protect, chase bad chase bad, protect.

“Ruff!”

Hear Daddy, hear Daddy, find Daddy find Daddy find Daddy. Back room Daddy, find Daddy, back room Daddy, smell Daddy, smell Mommy, sniff sniff sniff. Nuzzle nuzzle. Paws. Smell Daddy, smell Daddy, lick lick lick.

“Auburn, it’s soo early,” Jeff says, as Auburn tries to lick his face. He reaches out his hand and tries to push her away.

Hand lick hand lick hand tastes good lick hand lick hand lick hand lick hand lick lick lick lick lick.

“Stop licking me, dog,” Jeff whispers, although he keeps his hand near Auburn’s mouth. She continues to lick him until he acquiesces and starts rubbing her face and ears.

Rub head rub head rub head. Ears, scratch ears scratch ears scratch ears. Rub scratch rub scratch under chin under chin under chin scratch under chin scratch between eyes scratch between eyes love that love that rub butt rub butt rub butt hand gone hand gone lick lick lick lick. Sniff sniff.

Jeff pulls his hand away. “Did you get much sleep, hon?” he asks.

“Some,” Ashley replies. “The little man was crying at 2, but he settled down quickly. I fed him at 3 and he went back to sleep pretty easy.”

“Really, you were up and out of bed twice? You must be really quiet when you do this.”

“Not particularly. I just think a hibernating bear is more easily disturbed than you,” Ashley jokes.

“You know you can wake me if you need any help…”

“Oh, I’m only kidding. Only one of us should get up. After I feed him, if you just watch him so I can take a little nap?”

“Roger that,” Jeff says as he stretches his whole body. He yawns once, then again, and says, “I suppose I should take her.”

Take her take her take her take her. Listen…listen…listen…take her take her take her…listen listen listen. Sit good dog sit good dog listen listen listen.

“Auburn, you want to go for a…walk?” Jeff says as he rises out of bed.

WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK. Watch…Daddy up Daddy up Daddy up Daddy up follow Daddy WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK Daddy shoes Daddy shoes Daddy shoes WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK Daddy shoes follow Daddy follow Daddy follow Daddy follow Daddy. Look, watch, LEASH LEASH LEASH LEASH See LEASH See LEASH Hop Hop Hop WALK WALK WALK.

“Auburn, sit still and let me put this on you.” Jeff wraps the collar around the rottie’s massive neck. He slips on a hat and gloves and heads for the door.

“You ok, Ash?” he asks.

“Fine, I’ll just nap until you get back.”

“Ok, we’ll be back.” Jeff opens the door and Auburn tears outside.

WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK…

Jeff closes the door and Ashley starts to fall back asleep.

“Waahhh, waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Ah, crap,” Ashley says.

06:18

Sleep sleep sleep sleep twitch twitch sleep sleep sleep sleep. Gurgle gurgle gurgle. Sleep sleep sleep sleep. Gurgle. Lip smack lip smack lip smack. Sleep twitch sleep twitch. Twitch. Eyes open. Dark dark dark. Lip smack. Twitch. Push push push push push. Dark alone dark alone all alone alone scared.

“Waahhh, waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Bode, whats’a matter,” Ashley mumbles, not expecting a reply but hoping the sound of her voice would soothe the infant. “It’s ok, buddy, Mommy’s near.”

Sound listen sound listen sound nice voice nice voice nice voice recognize voice nice voice. Need voice need voice need voice. More more more. Scared alone scared alone need voice hold me hold me hold me hold me hold

“Waahhh, waah, waah, waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“C’mom little man, calm down.”

Voice voice voice need voice need hold hold hold need hold scared so scared scared alone alone alone voice need voice alone alone alone scared scared scared

“Waahhhhhhhhhhhhh, wah, wah, waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Ashley realizes her sleep is over. She stumbles out of bed and puts on her robe and slippers. She walks into the nursery and flicks on the light.

“Mommy’s here, Bode, Mommy’s here,” she says kneeling over the crib.

Mommy mommy mommy milk mommy milk mommy mommy mommy. See face face Mommy face Mommy face soothe soothe soothe. Calm calm calm. Gurgle. Coo.

“That’s my little guy, that’s my little guy,”

Coo coo. Gurgle. Whoa. Push push push push push. Ahhhhhh.

“Waah, waaahhh!”

“Excuse you! You have some gas this morning little man…oh, Bode, you stink! Where’d that come from? Bill Cosby was right—odor comes after two weeks.” She scoops him out of the crib and carries him gently over to the changing table, patting him gently on the back.

Messy messy dirty messy dirty messy messy. Mommy mommy arms hold hold mommy. Down, no like down no like cold, cold cold cold. Arms cold cold cold back cold cold cold so cold cold cold no like no like no like. Control can’t control can’t control so cold

“I know, little buddy, it’s cold in here. Wow, you made a mess and hey! Ah, jeez, where’s a wash-cloth.” Ashley fumbles for a wash-cloth and places it over Bode’s mid-section.

“You peed on me, you little rascal,” Ashley says, not upset because even though being peed on sounds disgusting, it is funny to a first-time parent—at least the first few times. In another couple weeks, it won’t be. She cleans him up, finishes changing him, and puts on a new, clean outfit.

“These still don’t fit you so well,” Ashley says, trying to work Bode’s legs into the onesie. An inch of fabric dangles off both his feet and Ashley scoops him into her arms. Ashley carries Bode out to the kitchen and sets Bode in his swing. She then goes back to the nursery and gets the messy diaper and rags from the morning change.

Warm warm warm warm. Calm calm calm. So warm clean dry clean dry clean dry. Mommy mommy mommy mommy. Coo coo coo. Gurgle. Down alone mommy where Mommy motion rocking rocking rocking calm calm calm. Ahhh. Gurgle

06:39

Jeff and Auburn come through the front door, their walk completed.

“Go to the kitchen, Auburn,” Jeff says removing her leash. He then heads downstairs to the garage, holding the smelly plastic baggy.

Kitchen kitchen kitchen food want food want food kitchen kitchen kitchen. Sniff sniff sniff. Little fellow little fellow protect little fellow protect little fellow protect little fellow alone protect little fellow. Sniff sniff sniff. Clean.

“What are you doing out here?” Jeff asks, seeing Ashley in the garage near the trash cans.

“Disposing of a messy diaper,” she says.

“Hey, me too,” Jeff says holding up the plastic baggy. “What do you know. It’s not even 7 am and we’ve both dealt with some sh*t already. We should do a commercial.” Ashley does not laugh at this weak attempt at humor. She merely nods and the two head back upstairs. In the kitchen they find Bode in his swing and Auburn parked in front of him. She is seated in front of Bode, not watching Bode but watching around him. Auburn sees Ashley and runs over to deliver a good morning.

“Good morning, girl,” Ashley says scratching the dog’s hind legs.

“I’ll feed the pups; you get some breakfast before you feed him,” Jeff says motioning toward Bode. “Auburn, you want some food?”

Mama scratch butt scratch butt scratch butt FOOD? Food food food love food food food love food need food hungry hungry food food food food food. Sniff sniff sniff. Food love food sniff sniff sniff. No meat?

Jeff scoops two cups of dry dog food into Auburns bowl and places a handful of the same into Dudley’s bowl. Auburn immediately attacks her bowl but stops almost as quickly. She looks at Jeff, as if asking something.

“That’s all you get, girl. No wet stuff in the morning.”

Food food food. No wet no wet food no wet no wet. Hungry hungry hungry eat. Eat eat eat.

Ashley gets two bowls from the cabinets and put the boxes of cereal on the table while Bode watches from his swing.

“Where’s Dudley?” Jeff asks.

06:51

Sleep sleep sleep. Snore snore snore. Snort snort snort sleep sleep sleep. Noise listen noise listen noise hear noise. Awake. Sniff sniff sniff sniff. Mama gone mama gone. Sniff sniff sniff. Mama gone mama gone daddy gone daddy gone alone alone alone. Scared scared.

“Wuff,” comes a very weak, muffled bark from the master bedroom. Jeff and Ashley, too intent on their breakfasts, do not hear it.

Alone alone scared scared alone gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee. No bad dog no pee no pee gotta pee no bad dog gotta pee gotta pee. Gotta pee gotta pee. Alone alone scared. Gotta pee gotta pee no bad dog bad dog gotta pee.

“Where’s Dudley?” Jeff asks.

“I don’t know—I thought you let him out before you walked Auburn.”

“No, he was on the bed last I saw him. You didn’t let him out either?”

“No.” Jeff gets up and hurries back to the bedroom.

Noise noise footsteps here I’m here I’m here I’m here I’m here.

“Wuff wuff wuff.”

“I hear you, Dud,” Jeff says coming into the bedroom and picking Dudley off the bed. He carries him to the back door and lets him outside, apologizing to him for having forgotten about him. In response, Dudley sneezes on Jeff.

“Thanks, little man,” Jeff says, shooing Dudley outside.

Sniff sniff sniff sniff. Gotta pee gotta pee. Sniff sniff sniff. Mud mud sniff mud gotta pee. Here pee here.

“All done?” Jeff asks to Dudley opening the door and letting the pug back inside. Jeff then uses his foot to direct the blind pug to his food bowl.

Sniff sniff nudge left nudge left nudge right nudge right sniff sniff sniff food. Eat eat eat.

06:59

“We going to try to venture out today?” Ashley asks.

“Do you think we’re ready to go places with the little guy?”

“I think so.”

“Me too. Where should we go?”

"How about..."

Motion motion motion motion motion. Calm calm. Soothing. Calm. Motion motion hungry motion. Hungry calm hungry calm. Mommy. Sniff sniff. Milk milk motion motion milk motion. Mommy mommy mommy. Milk hungry hungry milk motion calm milk hungry milk mommy milk mommy milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk boob boob boob want boob

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Looks like it’s time to feed him,” Ashley says.

07:00

Attention All Ladies

Not much to say today, but I do have to post this picture of the little guy. Initially, we concluded we liked the onesie outfits that had zippers more than the button-up ones, only because they are much faster and easier (especially at 3 in the morning) to unzip/zip. This probably sounds like a lot of whining on our part, as how much dexterity does it take to do buttons? Quite a lot when you add in the element of a kicking, crying kid who is cold, cranky, and hungry (sorry, I know hungry destroys the alliteration element I had going there, but there really isn't a hard-c word for desiring food). Anyways, like I said, we INITIALLY concluded the zipper onesies were best. That was until we took the following picture:

Note the provacative, exposed chest, the casual, smug smile, and the devil-may-care look in his eyes. The whole ensemble seems to say, "Ladies, you don't want any of this. I'm the one your parents warned you about, trouble with a capital T." All he needs now is a nice moustache....

Home Alone

Ashley's Mom returned home today. Yes, you have heard (read) correctly. Ashley and I are caring for an infant unsupervised. Sound the alarm, put the medical staffs on red alert, and keep social services on speed dial. Why? you ask. Recall the last time we were charged with the care of one that cannot care for himself. Back 1998, Dudley was still living with Ashley's parents. JoAnne and Frank went out of town for a few days and left the Pug in our care. The end result? A rushed trip to the vet because I somehow dislocated both of Dudley's hind legs. Evidently Dudley remembers this horrible day because he's spent the entire morning guarding Bode.

I think Dudley also told Auburn about this event, because she is also on priority one alert and won't let me near the kid.

What I find interesting is the state of Ohio licenses doctors, lawyers, engineers, teachers, even hair dressers. But do parents need a license, do parents have to pass any type of test in order to raise a child?
"Oh, you'll be fine," all the nurses told us when we conveyed our misgivings about being able to properly care for a baby. "You'll just figure out what to do--it's natural," they all said. Couldn't this same logic be applied to a hair dresser--how hard would it be for them to just figure it out as they go? Not very, I reckon, yet the state feels the need to license them. I suppose all first time parents have these same thoughts the first time they are left alone with their new baby. And come to think of it, judging by my recent hair cuts, I don't think licensing by the state really does anything to ensure quality. I guess we'll just have to do what feels right and hope for the best; after all, if Brittany Spears can raise a kid, so can we (maybe that's not the best person to use as a standard with which to compare...)

Bode seemed to take the news quite well when we told him he was stuck with just the two of us.

"Will this in anyways affect the milk?" he asked.

As a precursor to how things would be when JoAnne left, Bode spent most of last night crying. Well, not constantly crying...just a little five-minute whine here and there to ensure neither one of us was able to progress to that all important REM sleep. Sometimes I'd get up and carry him out to the living room, rock him some, and then just as he was drifting to sleep, gently place him back into his crib. Evidently Bode's matress is lined with needles because as soon as I put him down, his eyes would open, he'd start to squirm, and soon thereafter, that oh-so-pleasant-at-3 am sound of "Waah, wah, waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" We have found that Bode gets the hic-ups quite often. He's fine when we're holding him upright, but the second we lay him down on his back, he's like a hobo drunk from Boone's wine. The doctor says this is natural and normal (the hic-ups, not being drunk on cheap wine), so don't anybody worry. Fortunately, we did find a couple good places he likes to sleep. The first place is on his best buddy Auburn.

Unfortunately, Bode had to abandon this position after one particularly gaseous episode when Auburn blew Bode to the other end of the couch. Fortunately he was able to find another spot that he loves more than anything in the world. Pleasant day to all.

The Death of the Name E---r

All right, first I feel the need to dispute the rumor currently being circulated by US magazine. Ashley and I did not almost come to blows in the operating room regarding the baby's name. Recall (and I’ve been given permission to use the name again for this story), I wanted to name the baby Ender; Ashley was vehemently against this. Despite what you may have read in US, the name Bode was decided upon even before Ashley went into the OR. Why, you may ask, did I acquiesce so easily? Was it because I didn't want to put Ashley through any more trauma? Not really (she's tough and could handle it). The reality is the name was ruined for me by a drug dealer named Bob (the anesthesiologist). Bob is an elderly fellow, short, balding, and one of the nicest guys anyone could meet. “Just call me Bob, everybody calls me Bob,” he said when he came in to give Ashley the epidural. I was not used to a doctor being so casual, so humble. I guess I've seen too many episodes of ER, Grey's Anatomy, or watched Malice one too many times ("I am God!" says the doctor). Anyways, while Bob was sticking my wife with his eight-inch needle (don’t be perverted you sickos), he was making small talk with Ashley—'How long you lived in Kettering? Really, from Colorado? Why'd you ever come here?' and 'First baby? Really, you're 37; you certainly don't look it.' Like I said, the nicest guy you could ever meet. At one point, he asked if we had chosen a name. Ashley, who was now under the influence of some powerful drugs, told Bob that she wanted to name the baby Bode but that her husband had a different name in mind. ‘What’s the other name?’ came Bob’s soothing voice. ‘Ender,’ Ashley replied. I expected Bob to smile that fatherly smile he had done so often since he had come into the room and say something supportive. Alas, Bob, this wonderfully nice man, turns into this malicious little being (picture how Anakin changes when he kills Mace Windu and goes to the dark side). He says to me, ‘You can’t name him that,’ while menacing that same eight-inch piece of sharp metal. ‘Why not? Didn't you ever read Ender’s Game?’ I replied. ‘I don't care what book it's from. It doesn't matter. All the kids are going to call him Rear-ender.’ And there ended my fascination with the name...

There is an unwritten rule that one should never, ever, under any circumstances, ask a woman if she is pregnant no matter how obvious it may seem. There is always that one percent chance you could be wrong, and there is no known response to 'Sorry, I'm not pregnant,' that will alleviate the situation. Along this line of thought, we've learned another item on the list of 'they don’t tell you this stuff before hand' (reference the Houston, We Have a Problem post). Perhaps we simply didn’t listen to this when it was mentioned, or figured it wouldn’t apply to us. The morning after Bode was born, Ashley and I both expected her belly to be mostly gone. After all, the baby was no longer inside. Oh sure, we did expect some extra tissue, but we’d no idea she would still look 6+ months pregnant. For those that don’t know, the belly is this big because the indoor plumbing doesn’t snap back quickly. I guess I thought the return back to her normal size and shape would be along the timeline of the Hulk transforming back David Banner. Yes, her belly has gone down considerably since Bode’s birth, but it was still large enough to ruin one particular gentleman’s afternoon. We went down the street to pick up a holiday ornament holder (aka a Christmas tree for the non-PC correct). Anyways, the guy at the lot violated the unwritten rule of pregnancy comments. ‘I imagine next year’s Christmas will be a lot different after your little one arrives,’ the guy says, nodding towards Ashley’s belly. Ashley's eyes turned jet black and her hair raised up like there was a lot of static electricity in the air. I don't recall much after that, but I do know the surgeons were able to reattach both of the man's testicles. Even better, we got a great price on the tree--the guy was quite uncomfortable during the rest of the sale, and I think he simply wanted us gone...


Ok, here's the real reason you come to this blog: the Bode-man (long o, no e, rhymes with Code-man) update. Yesterday, Bode had his one-week checkup. He is now 7 pounds, 3 ounces and is doing just fine. He's eating good, sleeping better, and we think he might have smiled (or it could have been a burp aftershock, we're not sure which). First, here's me and the little guy in front of the aforementioned Christmas tree Next, we have have a picture of Bode with Auburn. He looks soooo little next to her; it's amazing how gentle the rottie is with the baby. Below we have a picture of Dudley sniffing the little man. I'm sure Dud was pissed when he realized Bode was in his sleeping area ('Who's been sleeping in my bed?' said the Dud-pug). Finally, we have a picture of Bode with Nana (Ashley's Mom). At this point, we have to give big ups to Nana, who has been with us since Bode was born and is staying until the 13th of December (although we're trying to convince her to extend her stay...until 2010). She's been awesome--changes him, rocks him, has cooked meals and cookies for us, and has been a calming influence on the whole household (we won't mention that she swipes and does the cross word before either of us has a chance to see it). We would not be as well rested nor maintained our sanity if not for the presence of this silver haired angel, and for that, we thank her with all our hearts. As a final thought: Notice in the picture of Bode and Nana all the books on the shelves on the top left. They are all Star Wars books. The little guy's future is already set: he's going to be a nerd--just like Daddy! May the force be with you, and pleasant day.

Bode's First Interview

Announcer: Live from New York, the city that never sleeps, it’s the Late Show with…hold it. Guys, cut the music…I’m reading the wrong sheet. I need the new script—yes, that one. Ok, I got it. In five, four, three, two, … Webcast from Kettering, the city that sleeps at half past eight, it’s the Way too Effing Early Show. Tonight’s guest is the new arrival, Bode Jackson. And now, your host, a dog that will tell you that he loves you just to get what he wants….Duuuudleeeeyyyy McGuirk!

Applause, cheers, and only a couple jeers.

Dudley: Hey, how’s everyone doing out there in web land? Well, we’re live this morning from the McGuirk living room. Jeff had intended to host the show, but unfortunately, he’s out cold sleeping. Auburn tried her best to lick him to consciousness, but no dice. So you’re stuck with me as the host. Now, due to the writer’s strike, we don’t really have much of a monologue. I know Jeff tried writing some material, but I looked at what he had and figured it would bomb. So we’re going to skip that part of the show and jump right into the interview, which is probably what most of you are tuning in for anyways…am I right? We could be like that BCS selection show that kept teasing us and wouldn’t cut to the chase and simply tell us LSU gets to whip, I mean play, the Buckeyes in the championship game. So, without further adieu, let’s bring out our guest. He’s a young man that arrived here only a couple days ago, an infant in the meaty part of the bell curve for all categories. Conceived and born right here in the heart of Kettering, let’s give a big round of applause for Bode McGuirk.

Applause, cheers, whistles, and quite a few cat-calls from the ladies in the audience.


Dudley: Welcome to the show, Bode. Man, I can’t get over how small you are. You’re no bigger than a liter of Coke.
Bode: Yeah, I hear I’m related to some people that were 9-pounders when they were born, but the doctors seemed very happy with my weight. In fact, they all commented that I have such a big head.
Dudley: That’s what she said.
Bode: Come again?
Dudley: That’s what she said.
Bode: You’re not making any sense.
Dudley: That’s what…oh wait, it won’t work here. You don’t get ‘that’s what she said’ type humor? You ever seen The Office?
Bode: No, ‘fraid not.
Dudley: You will. Daddy watches it over and over; doesn’t matter if he’s seen it already. In fact, he was watching a TiVoed episode right before he conked out on the sofa.
Bode: Daddy? Who’s this Daddy person?
Dudley: Daddy—you know, the guy that lives here with us? Perhaps you think of him as this:
Bode: Oh, ok, I’m with you. Yeah, I know the guy. You say his name is Daddy? He’s seems a nice enough fellow, but he really needs to work on his changing skills. How long does it take to change a diaper? Thirty seconds? A minute? For some reason, it takes him close to five minutes. And these are a cold five minutes. I mean, the guys holding my legs, exposing my bare ass to the cold night air, and he’s like a mammoth in a tar pit. I need to figure out how to light a fire under this guy.
Dudley: I think I know how you could speed him up.
Bode: How?
Dudley: Next time he’s moving too slow, hose him down some.
Bode: Really, that works?
Dudley: You bet. I used to do that in the house—you should see how fast he moves. ‘Course, he gets a bit pissed (no pun intended), but it’s really quite amusing.
Bode: Well, thanks, I’ll give it a try next time.
Dudley: Well, I gotta say you look fantastic.
Bode: Yeah, well, I was eating pretty well there for awhile. Got up to 7 pounds, 9 ounces. I thought I looked a bit chubby, so I’ve dropped 10 ounces on this new diet—nothing but milk.
Dudley: And how’s that working out for you?
Bode: Good, real good. A bit bland after awhile…kinda tastes like chicken.
Dudley: What do you think of Mama?
Bode: Mama?

Dudley: You know, the lady of the house.

Bode: Still not ringing a bell.

Dudley: Perhaps you think of her as

Bode: The Milk Lady? That’s Mama? Oh, she’s awesome. What a nice lady. I just adore her.
Dudley: Me too. I’ve nothing but love for that woman.
Bode: Is there something wrong with her?
Dudley: What do you mean?
Bode: Well, I saw ‘Daddy’ helping her put her socks and shoes on.
Dudley: Oh, she just has some swelling—developed some really nice cankles, but that should go away soon. I know she seems a bit feeble right now, but you’ll be amazed how much energy Mama has. She exercises quite a bit.
Bode: Really? Do you think she will take me running…of course, only when it’s warmer because it’s freezing here. Where I come from the temperature never drops below 98 degrees.
Dudley: Get used to it. Of course, if you get too cold, you can always snuggle up to Auburn.
Bode: Auburn? I’ve heard that name many times. What is it?
Dudley: Well, there are two Auburns: one is a college—Mama went there and she’s a rabid fan. The other Auburn is the dog—that big black and brown fury animal that roams around here.
Bode: I know him. He’s sweet.
Dudley: Auburn is a bitch.
Bode: Oh, sorry. She’s sweet. But she keeps licking me, especially when I’m crying. I like it, but sometimes I think she believes my head is a lollipop. I guess I taste good to her…I just hope she never wants more than a lick!
Dudley: Oh she’s harmless…provided she knows you. Make no mistake, she’ll protect you, and she’s quite a sight to see when she’s in guard mode.
Bode: I bet. I do like that she seems to know when I need changing; she powers her nose right into me when I’m wet or dirty. It’s a big cue to ‘Mama’ and ‘Daddy’.
Dudley: I’m sure they appreciate it. Well that’s about all the time we have. One last question. What do you think of your house?
Bode: I love it—especially the kitchen. Man, it looks awesome. I can’t believe I actually live here.

Dudley: Neither can Mama and Daddy, Bode, neither can Mama and Daddy.

Dudley: Well, Bode, thanks for being here. Come back any time.
Bode: I appreciate, Dudley. I sure will. But first, I need a nap—I’ve been awake for almost two hours; I’m not a machine, you know!
Dudley: I hear you, Bode. I need a nap myself. You take care of yourself. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Bode McGuirk.

Applause, Whoots, Hollars

Dudley: What a nice kid…polite, well mannered, sincere. Maybe he was adopted. Seemed to hiccough a bit more than I’d expect, but that’ll pass. Anyways, before we end, we have a special treat. Drum roll please.

Drum Roll

Dudley: We have for you the Top 5 Things Mama and Daddy have learned since Bode’s arrival:
Number 5: They never knew three hours of uninterrupted sleep could be the unequivocal bliss that it has become.
Number 4: Baby hands are the most powerful, relentless vices in the world when wrapped around hair
Number 3: That a parental dinner conversation consisting of color, clarity, and consistency is not about diamonds
Number 2: All babies are born on Tokyo time
And the Number 1 thing Mama and Daddy have learned is that a baby's eyes can melt even the hardest of substances.

Dudley: That's it, ladies and gentlemen. We certainly hope you enjoyed the show.

Applause, shouts, whistles, so much so that Jeff wakes up.

Jeff (very groggy): Did I miss something?

First Pics

All,

If you have come to this site, you most likely care about the pictures of Bode Jackson McGuirk, born 28 November 2007 at 9:58 PM. These are shown below. We will be using this site to post pictures as Bode grows up. We won't send out mass emails every time this site is updated, so check back as often as you like, add the site to your favorites, make comments if you wish, or simply enjoy anonymously. These images were taken about 20 minutes after Bode was born. I've no idea who he looks likes; I've never been good at recognizing resemblances in babies. His hair was light brown and he has brown eyes, and he also has a Simean crease on his right hand. This is when one of those dark lines on the palms of your hand runs straight across rather than curving upward. Evidently this is not too common because two docs commented on it.

No major news to report today other than Mom is recovering nicely, and we hope to go home tomorrow. Then, we will take pictures of the whole family (dogs included).

Happy Friday.

Do You Want To Know How It Ends?

If you are anything like me, when you see a movie or read a book, you like to be completely in the dark about the plot. This is why the original Star Wars trilogy could never be topped by the prequels. We all knew what was going to happen, who would live, who would die, etc. Oh I'm not going to commit blasphemy and say the prequels were bad. I did enjoy them, but there was no shock, no suspense, no "I am your father" type moments. The journey is much more fun when the ending is not known.

I recall one time I was driving from Iowa to Florida. I had bought Michael Crichton's book-on-tape, Airframe, the unabridged version, 22+ hours of audio. All I had to do was keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes on the road, and in no time, I'd leave the cold confines of Iowa and find myself basking in the warm Florida sun. I left early in the morning, found the interstate, and popped in the tape. The audio played for about 20 minutes and then I heard, "This has been a presentation of Bantam Audio Books." To my horror, I discovered I had put in the last tape, not the first. I had thought the story seemed a bit cluttered but reasoned some books start well into the plot line only to develop the back story later. This was not the case, and I had learned why the plane had crashed, the cover up, who was blamed, etc. In essence, I heard both the climax and the denoument of the story. Although a little bummed, I did listen to the whole book, and enjoyed it, but the ride would have been more fun had I not known how it all turned out.

We had a doctor's appointment yesterday morning. First, the medical terms: "Ashley is 60% effaced but still only a finger tip dilated." In layman's terms, she's moving along, but not as fast as the doctor would like. Additionally, since Ashley is a "mature first time mother" (35+ at the time of the baby's birth), her body may not be reacting to the hormones and enzymes like that of a younger first-time mom (yeah, that went over well). This is not to say there are any problems or issues. Ashley is fine, and the baby is fully developed. "Good lung maturity has been achieved," to use doc-speak again. However, since these other "things" are going slowly, the doctor thinks it best to help grease the skids (my term, not doc-speak). This isn't required, but if we wait for Ashley to go into labor, it might be after the due date. This simply is more time for the baby to get bigger, and birthing a bigger baby is no fun for Ashley (or Ender, for that matter) Thus, we are scheduled to go to the hospital Tuesday evening. Various gels will be applied to Ashley throughout the night, and hopefully Wednesday morning, things will have moved along such that the inducement of labor can begin, and sometime later that day, Ender will be born.

Of course, we are excited. But I can't help feel a little like I did when I realized I had learned the ending of Airframe. The suspense is gone. I had always envisioned being at work, the cell phone ringing, and hearing Ashley say, "Jeffy, my water broke." Or perhaps waking up in the middle of the night to contractions and rushing to the hospital. Knowing ahead of time that on Tuesday at 5:00, we are going to the hospital to begin the birthing process takes a little of the fun out of it. It feels like it's a task on my Outlook calendar, and at 4:45 on Tuesday, a little reminder will pop up and say, "15 minutes until you take Ashley to the hospital." There isn't much suspense in a scheduled birth. It seems a little too organized for me, but I suppose that really isn't a bad thing. However, there is still some hope for a surprise delivery. The Auburn-Alabama game is Saturday night. I'm secretly wishing for a very close game with a hugely drammatic ending. With only seconds remaining, I want Auburn to score a spectacular game-winning touchdown, after which Ashley will scream, cheer, shout, and go into labor. Or perhaps she might even go into labor during the game...knowing her, we will stay glued to the TV until the game ends, and only then will we grab out bags and head out. But if that doesn't happen, hopefully come Wednesday, things will have gone well and Ender will make his entrance. The suspense is kind of gone, but in all honesty, the end of the pregnancy is really just the beginning...

Pleasant Turkey Day.

Ender's Log

The following pieces of manuscript were found floating on the shores of the now defunct dungeon, La Wom de Ashle, a prison similar to La Bastille but not as notorious. They are pieced together in what seems to be a sequential order.

I’ve been in this cell for as long as I can remember. Any memories I had before being in here have been wiped away. My mind is blank, void of substance. I don’t even know my name, or what I am, or what I look like. It’s always dark, pitch black like a starless night; my captors don’t even have the decency to give me a candle. Or food for that matter, which is somewhat peculiar. I’ve never eaten or drank in here, but I’m not starving. Perhaps they are drugging and then feeding me intravenously. On many occasions, I’ve gone to sleep hungry only to have awoken with a full stomach. I do know my captors are evil. Not only am I confined to the smallest of spaces, they feel the need to tether me to the wall with some sort of chain attached to my abdomen. I’ve tried yanking on this chord, but it is impervious to anything I try to do to sever it, and I’ve given up trying to remove it. Fortunately, it is rather long and doesn’t impede my movements, although I do have to be careful so as not to accidentally wrap it around my neck…

I’ve had no direct physical contact with those that imprison me, but I know they are near, watching me, monitoring me. I can hear them, their voices garbled. If I listen real close, I can make out the occasional word. I know there are at least two guards that are monitoring me on a regular basis, as I’ve grown to recognize their voices. One is male and one is female, and I think the female is guarding me the majority of the time. The male’s voice…I don’t hear it as often. Perhaps he’s in charge of my captivity and only comes along periodically to check on my status. He doesn’t say much. In fact, he always seems to say the same thing: Hiender. I’ve no idea what ‘hiender’ means; obviously this guard is the less intelligent of the two. The female says many things, but the two I recognize most often are ‘Hey buddy’ and ‘Come on Auburn!” which is usually shouted. The first seems like a greeting, while the second can only be some sort of tribal war cry…

I’ve performed numerous checks of my cell, and I’m convinced my captors are shrinking its size. I can no longer stretch my arms from side to side without touching the walls and my ability to maneuver is diminishing. But there is hope. The walls are not as solid as I once thought. My cell is more like a flexible membrane. I’ve tested all areas and if I push hard enough, the walls move outward. I thought I might be able to apply enough pressure, pierce the membrane and break free. Unfortunately, it seems that every time I push too hard, one of the guards pushes back. My captors are quite vigilant—they know every move I make. Every place I try, they are there, pushing against me. This frustrates me, and at one point, I lost it. I started kicking and punching and spinning around until I exhausted myself. The walls are closing in on me, and I don’t know what to do…

The cell continues to shrink, and I get the sense I’m sinking lower and lower. Still, all hope is not lost because I think someone might be working on the outside to help me break free. The other morning, I was resting when I felt something touch my head for only the briefest of seconds. I thought I might have imagined it, but a week later, the same thing happened. This time, I was ready, and quickly investigated the area from which the touch came. Oh euphoria! There is a small, minuscule opening, no larger than a pencil width. I think I can even see the vaguest of light. Someone has bored a passageway for me to use to escape. I don’t know how I could ever fit through something so small, yet I do know I can’t survive much longer in this cell. I must make an effort to increase the size of this opening. Hopefully, my friend on the other end will continue his efforts to do the same. I’ve tried numerous positions, but the best leverage I get is when I place my head over the opening and push downwards. The guards don’t seem to know I’m doing this, so I can only hope the escape passage is unknown to them. I have perhaps another week before the cell becomes unlivable. I hope I can increase the size of the opening. It’s going to be tight but I think I can manage…

There is no more manuscript. No one knows the fate of this prisoner, if these writings are valid or if they are simply fabrications of an idle mind…

Houston, we have a problem.

Ok, before anyone gets scared, Ashley and Ender are both fine. We had a checkup this morning, and the doctor said things are going along nicely and that Ashley's hips have moved considerably since our last visit. Evidently things are "opening up" to allow smooth passage as Ender makes his way from the womb to the world. Hopefully this assuages any fears you may have had after seeing the title.

Now, here is the problem: Why was I never informed about the "six-week layoff" following Ender's birth? This wasn't mentioned during our classes, nor have I ever heard the topic discussed in a "should we have a baby" pamphlet, which only seem to cover questions like, "Are you financially able to support a child?" and "Are you willing to sacrifice your personal time to care for a baby's needs?" While maybe not as important, the question, "Do you realize it will be at least six weeks following the birth of your baby that your wife is off limits?" should be broached well in advance of any activity which may involve conception. I'm not saying this would have been a deal breaker, but this certainly alters my "Welcome Home From the Hospital, Ashley" plans.

Oh, don't think I'm idiot--I figured there'd be some recovery time, like when I sprained an ankle (I was back running within a week) or tweeked a shoulder (two weeks off from swinging a racquet), but I'd no idea it'd be until 2008 and then some before Ashley is (and to use a football term), "ready for game speed." When the doctor mentioned the six weeks this morning, I thought she was joking. I waited for the punch line, but it never came. I looked to Ashley for confirmation, and she just nodded like it wasn't news to her. In fact, she was somewhat surprised at my reaction, claiming that we had talked about this a bunch of times. Sorry, little lady, but a conversation which involves me and discusses that particular topic is likely to be ingrained into both my conscious and subconscious for all eternity (or, in this case, six weeks post Ender's birth, which is like an eternity). What's even worse is Ashley's rather subdued reaction to the six-week sentence of abstinence, which has me starting to doubt myself. Then again, it was this particular act that resulted in Ashley's current condition and the less-than-enjoyable last nine months. Still, she could at least act a little more disappointed (for my sake).

There are now two very important dates in the McGuirk family: 29 November 2007 (Ender's arrival) and 11 January 2008 (Game Day). Heaven help us if Ender's late...

Pleasant day,

Jeff

Get Ready, Get Set....Wait.

Today marks the completion of week 37 of Ashley's pregnancy. Thus, if the kiddo were to come anytime after today, he would no longer be characterized as premature. This is a good thing because it means Ender is almost his full size and weight and could come at any day. This is also a frightening thing because it means Ender could come at any day. That being said, we each packed a hospital bag. Ashley packed stuff like comfortably jammies, an outfit to wear home, toothbrush, etc. I, thinking I was showing great foresight, had packed all six Star Wars DVD's (in case of a long labor). Ashley was not amused and has banned all Star Wars related items from the delivery room. This ruined my plan to have the Empire Strikes Back cued up such that I would press play when the nurses hand Ender to me for the first time. Ender would look at me and hear Darth Vadar say, "I am your father." First impressions are important.

A lot of people have been asking us if we have a name picked out. Yes, we do have a name. However, we feel we need to actually see the boy first to ensure the name suits him. After all, it is possible Ashley could take one look at him and say, "He really is an Ender." Doubtful, but entirely possible. Or she could suddenly have a change of heart and think Pigot is a good name (Pigot is an old Rankin family name; it is pronounced with a long i). Also doubtful, but possible. However, we do know the kid won't be named after me (there's only room for one J.S. McGuirk in this world), nor will he be named after any of our family members. In fact, we don't think anyone in our families has this name. Nor is the name in the top 1,000 baby names from 2000 - 2006 on the social security data base http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/decades/names2000s.html. And no, we didn't take a common name and choose some crazy spelling. As a hint, I will say a character from a movie in the 1990's had this name. Not the lead in the movie but certainly integral to the film (and no, Obi-Wan, Morpheus, or Hannibel).

Now, some dog pictures. First, me and the little pug. Hopefully we'll have a similar picture in a few weeks of me and Ender; in all likelihood, Ender will then be wearing a hat and hopefully won't have fur or weigh 20 pounds.

Note the massive stack of pillows behind me on the bed. Now imagine a pregnant Ashley, a one-eyed pug, all those pillows, and me, sleeping on the same bed. Also, realize even though Ashley is pregnant, I am still the most massive. Yet of all of the above, who do you think gets the least amount of space on the bed? I've become quite adept at being able to will myself awake just before I fall off the edge.

Finally, a not-so-flattering picture of me and Auburn lying on Auburn's sleeping area. Note how plush and wide-spread her bed is. Maybe I should start sleeping there

Pleasant day.

First Post: A Test of My Skills

Greetings,
This is our first attempt at posting to this blog. We will probably be using this website to show pictures once Ender arrives. Before you ask, no, the kid will not be named Ender. After much badgering, I did convince Ashley that Ender could be the kid's womb-name; once born, the name will never again be spoken.

As a test, here are some pictures. First, the finished nursery. The two pictures probably aren't the greatest...I'm certainly no photog. However, you should be able to see Ender's crib, his dresser, a nice comfy chair, and if you look closely, you should be able to see a pretty nifty closet organization scheme. Now, if I were to ask you what the most expensive thing in the picture was, what would you say? Men would probably say the furniture...sadly, not true. It amazes me how much curtains cost...

The other pictures are of our kitchen that is being remodelled. Yes, it will be done for Ender's arrival. In fact, today we now have running water, a working stove, and a dishwasher (other than the two of us). We are awaiting on a support piece for the island (you can see it's the unfinished piece close to the fridge.).

Finally, I included pictures of a pregnant Ashley, Auburn, and Dudley because 1) I know how much pregnant women like to be photographed, and 2) what post isn't complete without a picture of a dog! Don't let the one-eyed pug frighten you. You can sort of see Ashley's belly, but she's very adept at avoiding profile pictures. She's standing in our sun room, which had served as the staging area for the kitchen remodel.


For those that don't know, Ender's due date is 29 November 2007. We can only hope he's not early, and heaven forbid, Ashley go into labor during the Auburn/Alabama football game! More to come as Ender's arrival approaches!