A celebration...

Is it the beginning of the second trimester, or the fact that Coco the
dog just farted? Actually its both! I shall explain more in the
morning...

Child of mine, I took your mommy to the fanciest restaurants...

While yesterday was really the day that we celebrated Alise's birthday, today is the actual anniversary of her birth.

Yesterday, despite the rains, we had a lovely day. Today was always going to be a little bit of a letdown in comparison; and so it really proved. We were both up early (again) because Coco (again) thought that we should be awake and serving breakfast at 6am, and after both showering and dressing we realized that we had a couple of hours to kill before we were to meet friends for breakfast, at noon. We picked up a pretty bad scone, a not so good breakfast sandwich, and the worst cup of coffee that I've ever tasted from the local Starbucks, and went to Target to see what their maternity selection was like.

Now, please... help us out here. Where have all of the maternity clothes in stores gone?? It really seemed that before Alise became preggers we'd always see maternity clothes. Alise would see something, and say 'that looks cute'. I'd look up from my meticulous inspection of a bra to nod agreement, then she'd notice that it was a maternity item. 'Ah well', we'd think. 'At least we know where to go when we're expecting'.

No longer. Where do pregnant women buy their clothes nowadays?

Anyway. We shopped for a little while, met the above mentioned friends for breakfast, decided that we'd try the outlet stores for maternity clothes, recoiled in horror at the lines to get in and amount of people there, then came home in time to serve Coco once more before deciding that we should probably nourish ourselves as well.

Don't ask us how we ended up where we ended up, just don't judge us until you've tried it yourself.

We ate, on Alise's birthday please remember, at the 'Old Country Buffet'. The first time for both of us. For just $12 each we ate all that we wanted (which wasn't too much, as it turned out) and 'enjoyed' a wide variety of meats, vegetables, sides, breads and desserts. It was a surreal experience, but to be honest wasn't actually all that bad. I doubt that we'll become regulars, but it is possible that we'll be back.

We're now home again, both in bed. Alise is on the phone with her mom (hi mom) while I write this. While tomorrow will signal the beginning of the work week, it will also signal the beginning of the second trimester for this little alien of ours. Quite a scary, but beautiful thought.

I don't care what the weatherman says when the weatherman says it's raining...

Longest title ever? Possibly.

It rained, all day. From the moment that Coco decided that we should wake, until the last second that we were outside, it poured. Rain. HEAVY rain. Not the best birthday weather.

My special secret plan was that this morning we were going to go horseback riding. A very sedate and pregnancy friendly ride, at a ranch/farm about a 20 minute drive from home. This, sadly, did not and could not happen.

The second part of my plan did proceed as planned. I drove Alise to the next town over where she was given a 50 minute pre-natal massage. I had only planned for this to be a one time occurrence, but a combination of Alise's relaxed glow as she exited the massage room and some persuasive sales techniques lead me to purchasing Alise a 6 month membership at the massage place. She will be given hour long massages, once a month, until the birth of the alien. This is the most expensive birthday present I've ever given, but I think it'll be worth it.

The final, and more predictable part of the day was dinner at one of Alise's favorite restaurants. Her chicken was very flavorful and moist, my steak wonderfully cooked and tender.

All in all, no matter whatever the weather, we had a good day.

Happy Birthday Alise... I love you loads!

Oh Danny Boy...

Sunday is Alise's birthday.

We had planned to have a big ol BBQ on Saturday, celebrating both Alise's birthday and also the end of the first trimester. Time has flown since we first found out about the impending alien, and we wanted to celebrate in style.

We looked at the weather forecast earlier this week, and cold winds and showers appeared to be greeting us. Not exactly great grilling weather. We decided to cancel on Wednesday, so I sprung into action like a superhero to make alternative plans for Alise's birthday. I have a whole day on Saturday planned, booked, and partly paid for; she's going to love it!!

Except that part of it is outside. And the weather forecast, thank to tropical storm Danny, is heavy wind and rain. Washout.

So, I don't know what we'll do now. I'm feeling pretty depressed about the whole thing, to be honest. This will be her last birthday before the baby comes, and it'll be instantly forgettable. Damn Danny.

Twitter Stuff

You may have noticed that I haven't 'tweeted' in a while.

I think twitter may be beyond me. I don't love it. I don't really see the need to be telling you what Alise and I do every hour of the day, one synopsis to cover each 24 hour period seems to satisfy your appetites so far. Once we are at 'critical moment' times, when I don't have access to a PC, perhaps I'll 'tweet' more often; but for now it appears that it'll lay dormant, waiting for something awesome and maybe funny.

Of course I am also bitter because I only have 4 followers. Four!

Speaking of bitter and twitter (hey! that rhymed!), one twitter that I do love is this one:

http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays

This gentleman is my personal hero, and person whom I aspire to be. Some may say I'm already well on my way...

There's nothing we like more than 'nothing'

Alise and I have been wondering what to do with ourselves on the Labor Day weekend.

Leading so far is the opportunity to spend a couple of days in complete and total isolation, at a cabin in northern Maine. This cabin has not any running water, no electricity, no internet, no inside toilet, no neighbors, no nothing. And to us, this sounds perfect.

Funny really. Humanity has spent thousands of years developing society, convenience, things that make us feel comfortable and things which make our lives easier. We then choose, even pay money; for the opportunity to live without them.

As things stand, I'm not sure if we are going away, my emails today to the owner of the cabin have gone unanswered. If we can't go, we could always stay at home and cut the wires to the electricity and turn off the water. That'll be the same, right?

Tuna Meltdown

Here's a helpful tip for all of you baby daddies out there who want the chance to repeat the baby making experience again, at some point in your life.

 If baby mommy wants food, either get it for her quickly, or get the fuck out of her way. Pronto. This means NOW.

 I was a little naive. I have observed pregnant ladies eat a little more than they perhaps need.

'I'm eating for two!' they'll claim. 'Baby wants corn-dogs covered in syrup!' they'll call. 'Bullshit' I'll call back, under my breath of course.

Alise has been eating a little more than usual, but nothing totally out of the ordinary. She is trying to eat more healthily, and frequently. This helps the nausea you see.

The one thing that we have learned though, is that when she needs to eat, she needs to eat immediately.

 The other day we were both in the kitchen. I was putting away dishes (primarily clean ones), while she was making herself a tuna melt.

 I was, as usual, messing around.

 'I need to get a pan out of that cupboard', she told me. I was standing in front of this cupboard, putting stuff away.

'One sec' I told her, moving slowly.

'I really need that pan' she said.

'Yep, moving quick as I can'. I wasn't, I was messing around.

'PLEASE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!'

I don't blame her, but you see, I wasn't aware. She went from being a little peckish to feeling like she'd faint without instant nourishment. I slinked away and made myself a mental note.

Never come between a pregnant woman and her food!

Le Weekend

As mentioned in the video diary for this week (what do you mean you didn't watch it yet?! I thought you were a fan! I thought we had something special!)... we went to Alise's grandparents house in New Hampshire this weekend.

We were a little early getting to their town, owing to our need to leave the house and to be on the road before McDonalds finishes serving breakfast. Don't judge us. We realized that we had about an hour to kill, and remembering that a friend had been to a flea market in the area, we did a quick google search on my phone and found the location. Popping the address into the GPS (we are SO high-tech!) we found the place, paid $1 each to get in, and started to rummage.

I haven't really been to a flea market since I were a child in the United Kingdom where we usually call them 'car boot sales'. The cavities at the rear of a car where you can keep groceries, spare tires and small children is called a 'boot' in the UK. It was our language first, you Americans are the strange ones. Aside from the name, they are largely the same event. People sell either stolen, fake, or useless stuff at cheap prices to people looking to kill an hour or so before lunch with Grandma.

It was at the flea market that we ended up with a changing table, sold to us by an unshirted, tattoo covered, strange scar wearing middle aged gentleman who probably had as many identities as teeth. Possibly two. The flea market was a strange place, and I loved it there.

We will buy new where we think that new is necessary. We will though attempt to get as many things from flea markets as possible, and we will have a grand old time doing it.

P.S. In the video below, it does appear that Alise is around 7 months pregnant. She isn't. She was slouching a little, was a little bloated after eating, and was wearing a flowing dress.

Video Diary... Grandma's House

Alise and I went to her grandparents house for lunch today. Never one to miss an opportunity, I took the camera with us and we recorded a video diary entry from there. Enjoy!

'Preggo Sympto' #1

Regrettably, my lack of a post yesterday isn't due to the fact that we actually won $170 million squillion dollars, more because we were busy, got home late, and I crashed into bed, neglecting my blogging duties. I'm ashamed and terribly upset with myself.

 

We went to friends for dinner last night. They have a young son (between the age of a year and a half and two years, I think) who is a lovely little brat. He is, according to his parents, a ball of terror but he has a wonderful smile and in my book at least, could get away with murder. He's quite taken with me, apparently, and spend most of the evening playing with me, sitting on my knee, handing me hats and glasses to wear, calling my name and warming my stone cold heart.

 

Anyway, to the first symptom of pregnancy in  the first trimester. The frequent urges to pee.

 

This was the first sign that we had, that Alise might be 'with child'. Even before the pregnancy tests were even unwrapped and peed on (yeah, I'm sensing a theme here too), Alise spent a couple of nights of discomfort because she had to keep getting up, sometimes hourly, to use the bathroom.

 

Honestly, I have no idea why this happens. No doubt Alise will read this blog and then tell me. Obviously further along in the pregnancy baby will be big enough to put pressure on momma's bladder which will have much the same effect, but for now I'm going to take a guess at 'hormones'. Hormones take the blame for a lot of things, rightly so.

 

The constant urges to pee have followed Alise for the last 10 weeks. We only have the one bathroom at home (unless you count the toilet in the basement… ever seen 'Trainspotting'? The toilet that we have is much the same as the 'worst toilet in Scotland'), but thankfully, so far, there have been no arguments over ownership of the facilities. I do feel terribly sorry for Alise though, it must be an awful wrench to have to keep getting up to pee, and to have to always be worried about where to pee when we're out.

This Time Tomorrow...

We could be millionaires. It is possible! I bought two mega millions tickets today, the jackpot is $170 million. I have my fingers crossed tightly.

Anyway. I've decided that since we are at the 10 week stage now, I'm going to go into some further details about the symptoms of pregnancy in the first trimester that Alise has had. While we really think that she's been lucky that her symptoms have been fairly mild, they have been pretty varied. So far, they have consisted of:

- frequent peeing
- weird vivid dreams
- breakouts
- fatigue
- sore/bigger boobs
- slight nausea on occasion
- increased appetite
- congestion
- pregnancy gingivitis

I shall explore each of these in detail in the coming days, letting you all know how they've affected our lives.

Apparently I still make her heart race...

Or, I make her blood boil. Perhaps you can decide for yourself which is more fitting.

Let's take a moment here and be honest with one another...

If you have the perfect relationship, and define 'perfection' as including the fact that you have never, ever argued with your partner, then you're either in the most wonderful partnership out there, or you're simply lying.

The other night, Alise and I had a 'difference of opinion'. Not a bad 'I will cut your nuts off' fight, just a little tiff. At the point that things were winding down and we were deciding if we actually did want to go and see a movie, Alise, out of my line of sight, sat down on the stairs.

'Well are we going or what?' I called to her. I was a little pissy still but was trying (honestly) to bury the hatchet.
'One minute' Alise said. Something in her voice told me that something wasn't right.

You know, we really have been very lucky as far as pregnancy symptoms are concerned. Alise hasn't had bad morning sickness and the only time that she's looked as though she's even thinking about throwing up is when faced with my take on an American Chop Suey.

Here's one though, that we weren't expecting.

It shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise. When pregnant, the heart can pump between 30% and 50% more blood, so that the fetus can be supplied with its goodness. Quite a feat, but which can put quite a strain on baby momma. Add to this the fact that we had been out in the midday sun for perhaps longer than we should have, and had drunk a little less water than would be advised, and you have the ingredients for a scary few minutes.

Alise's heart rate skyrocketed. Her heart was beating so fast that it could hardly even be counted, it was beating so hard that her chest was basically vibrating. I took her upstairs and into bed, and got her some water.

Alise could barely talk, let alone catch her breath. I thought that she was possibly getting better when she spoke, I knew that she was on the road to recovery when she said 'can you bring me my laptop? I want to look this up, see if it's normal'.

Apparently, this is a normal symptom. The heart goes through a lot when pregnant, and is known to 'flip out' from time to time. Dehydration, stress, anger and pregnancy can be a tricky combination, and anyone out there that's either pregnant or living with a pregnant person should be aware of these issues.

Errands or Water Park.. Errands or Water Park...

Alise and I had a lazy morning this morning, I watched the football (my football, American's soccer) while she tooled around on the Internets. At around midday we decided that we had to go to Target to get some groceries and household items.

We were nearly there. About 3 minutes away, in fact. Alise had written a list, asking me for my input (I'm notoriously crap at remembering what we have and what we need but she asks anyway) when Alise said, probably in jest, 'lets just skip errands and go to water country'.

I pulled one of the swiftest u-turns in history. We stopped back at the house for 5 minutes while we changed and looked up directions and hours, and we headed north to Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

I LOVED water parks when I was a child. They don't really have them in the UK but whenever we went on holiday to Spain or the south of France we would usually spend a day at one. We are both very much aware that these last minute outings will be much more difficult when we have a child, so we're making the most of them now. Who cares that we don't have enough toilet paper to see out the evening, we've been in water, we're tired, and we're happy.

Going to Water Country also reminded me of one of Alise's better traits. I have to take off my glasses at these things, making me very nearly blind. Thanks to Alise's descriptions of our surroundings though, I didn't miss much. At one point she leant towards me and whispered into my ear:
'The blonde girl over there has the biggest fake boobs I've seen in a long while...'

They Shall Inherit the Earth

A common theme of this blog has been my personal feelings that I am less of a man than those that I look upon as being 'manly'.

For most of my life I've been able to hide behind the fact that I'm young. I am the youngest child of three, and have always considered 'adult males' to simply be older and wiser than me, and therefore have been able to push my inadequacies to one side. 'No worries', I could think; 'I'll learn these things when I'm older'.

Now though, I'm 31. I still don't know how to do a lot of 'manly' things, and I'm running out of excuses. Compounding this, Alise's brother Josh is younger than me, and is much more 'manly' than I am. He brews his own beer. He fixes stuff. He knows how things work. Out in the wilderness, he could survive happily and could probably bandage my wounds. He travels around Washington State in a very cool looking bike-type-thing (see here), and despite mechanical problems I have no doubts that he'll get it back on the road and will probably modify it so that it's better than ever.

I have decided though, that it's just too late for me to learn these things. I shall not bother to play catch up. I shall though push our child into learning practicals, so that he, or she, can be called upon to fix my things when they should break. 'I gave you life!' I will tell them. 'Least you could do is put up some shelves! Call me when you're done and I'll take a photo of them and put it on the fridge. You can check it out when you're fixing said fridge...'

Oh My God! Amazing Developments!!!

Only kidding.

You know, when I first started this blog I thought that there might be more details to report, even at this early stage. I've also had comments that the blog is less about the baby and Alise, and more about me and how I'm feeling. There is a reason for this.

Even in these times, when we can get what we want, when we want it; when we can send emails across the globe in a second and when we can educate ourselves on any topic while staying in our homes, it still takes 9 months to make a baby. Mother Nature clearly hasn't caught up to our 'I want it now!!' lifestyles. We learned on Tuesday that baby is a whole 9 weeks old yet is still only about the size of a grape. At least baby isn't seedless.

I'm not even sure if that joke works. I know it's really not that funny, but I kind of like it so it's staying.

Anyway. While mommy, daddy, grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends and others frantically whirl around trying to live their lives and prepare for the arrival of the baby, all is fairly calm inside Alise's uterus. Baby is growing at a pretty good rate, but baby takes time to make. Baby is currently gathering nutrients and forming bones, baby is developing fingers and toes. All at baby's own pace, all as billions of babies have formed before. It is an amazing process and it boggles my tiny mind, but it all takes time. We must all be patient. Baby is coming, in baby's own time. If there were amazing developments to report at this moment, they'd probably not be very good ones, and then we'd all feel like poo.

To which I say, take your time little one. Take your time, develop well, and live your life inside Alise in peace. I'm an impatient bugger, but I know that you're getting what you need and you're going to be just fine. When I saw your heart beating on Tuesday I knew that you were doing well and that I'd be happy to wait until March to see you in the flesh. I'm scared, I'm nervous and I'm terribly excited, and I love you already.

Warning: Explicit Materials Below

There has been, partly as a result of the popularity of this blog, a great amount of interest in our pregnancy and all of the details that it involves. With this said, I have taken the bold step of taking this blog to the dark side. I'm going all out, and revealing all. I've decided to reenact the moment of initial conception. The day baby was made. 'When we did it fo'realz'.

Alise wasn't quite on-board. Something to do with 'family and friends not wanting to see this stuff'.

I have not given up on the idea though!! So as a compromise, I'm showing you the closest thing I've seen. This, this video that follows, this is pretty much what happened.

All were awake but me

There were some violent thunderstorms in Massachusetts last night.

We did have fair warning. It had been threatening to rain all day, the air felt very heavy, it was incredibly humid, and weather.com told us it would storm. Sadly, even though we knew what was coming, no-one had thought to tell Coco the dog.

 At around 2am Coco got scared. Coco is a very large chocolate lab who is old enough to know better; but there are things that scare her. Like being woken from a dream. Or like loud bangs. or like cats that look strange, or like riding in the back of a car. She's a funny dog sometimes, but she's as cute as a button.

By the way, we were watching an entertainment program on the television set the other night, when an product advertisement came on. It was for some homeopathy 'squirt' for old dogs, that 'improves' their hips and bad joints and such. One of the 'paid testimonial' women said, and I quote, 'my dog is now the love of my life'…

Coco will always be the love of my life (well, one of them). Don't matter if she can't see, can't hear, can't walk or can't poop unaided, she'll always be my best friend. Lady, if that's your attitude, then I hope that your dog, full of life now that you've taken to poisoning her water with some shit that a phony vet paid you $100 to talk up, pushes you down the stairs and breaks your fucking hip.

Ahem. Sorry. It's been a long day already.

Anyway, Coco got scared and made a bit of noise. In her defense, this was very loud thunder. She lost control a little, and made a puddle downstairs in the hallway. All of the cats too went a little loopy, and tried to climb into our pillowcases. I'm not sure how the mice coped, but I imagine that the smart one was building a bomb shelter with a reinforced roof, while the other one ran around a lot panicking. In short, the house was a little out of control.

Apart from on my side of the bed.

 I slept soundly through the whole event. Alise was woken first by thunder, and then by Coco's howls. She went downstairs to clean up the puddle and to comfort the dog, eventually bringing her bed upstairs to let her sleep closer to us. She got up again to let Coco out during what was, I'm told, a very heavy rain storm. Alise took care of the situation, while I snored loudly, unaware of the pandemonium that surrounded me.

I am a very heavy sleeper.

Thunderstorms are forecast for the rest of the week. My hope is that the next time this happens, Alise rolls over, shakes me until I awaken, to tell me 'it's your turn'. That would only be fair, don't you think?

Video Diary and photo Special!

Today we went to our first ultrasound. Possibly the most 'shit your pants' moment I've ever had. I'll write about it in more detail later, probably, but for now you'll have to be happy with a photo of 'the blob' and a video diary entry.

I will though throw in a few details here, while I wait for the video to upload. Baby is 2.5 cms in length, and has a heartbeat that measured 160 bpm. That's approximately 50% that mine would have measured, at the time. S/he (we don't know yet) is judged to be 9 weeks, and 1 day old.

Reply From Hunter Fans...

Dear Mr. Crossland,

Thank you for your email regarding your fan. We apologize that you experienced problems with the fan. The issue with the installation is not one that we are hearing of. With the exception of the ceiling plate installation (as referenced on the box) the assembly time from that step forward averages 5 minutes. We are forwarding your feedback to the appropriate party and we appreciate you taking the time to contact us.

Please contact us again if we can help in any way.  

 Sincerely,

Laurie M.

Technical Support Representative

Hunter Fan Company

so... not only do I feel like I'm not a man, but so apparently do Hunter Fans!

It's not that we're nervous...

But... We're nervous.

Alise and I have our first ultrasound on Tuesday. Actually, it's Alise that'll have the ultrasound, I'm merely going for moral support and because if I don't go, I'll be even more of a nervous wreck than if I'm there. I would no doubt be sitting at my desk, checking that my phone works by calling it, then worrying that while testing my phone I'd missed a call from Alise.

There is, in truth, a lot to be worried about. This will be the first time that we'll see a medical person during this whole adventure, and we've both heard terrible stories from both friends and complete strangers about 'what could go wrong'. There may not be a heartbeat. There may not be a baby. There may be a baby but it may be in the wrong place. All perfectly 'poop your pants' worthy material.

Because of these nerves, we've both been trying to keep ourselves busy to keep our minds off Tuesday. On Friday evening we played mini-golf with a friend (Stacy) and were bitten by a million mosquitoes. On Saturday we went out to breakfast then left terribly early to go to the New England Revolution against LA Galaxy (David Beckham's team). Today we took Coco for a long walk in the woods and are now getting ready to go bowling with our friends Ken and Kate. I will, of course, be wearing my New England Revolution football (soccer) jersey that Alise bought for me at the game, we will have a good time, and for maybe half an hour we will forget to be nervous about Tuesday.

Time Capsule!

So, I think we're going to make a time capsule.

We won't bury this thing, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because whatever is in the time capsule will probably be eaten and decomposed by the time we end up digging this thing out, and secondly because I will probably forget where its buried.

We will though keep this capsule securely wrapped, and it won't be opened until the child is eighteen. Or until I find it and think to myself 'what the hell is this box? What is inside it?', open it, and then remember what it is and tape it shut again.

But, what should we put into the time capsule? What do you think is typically 2009/2010? What would you put into one? Comments and thoughts are of course very welcome!

Boston You're My Home

I work in Downtown Boston.

 Boston is a strange city in a number of ways. Because it isn't a grid city there are few discernable 'blocks', roads and walkways ramble and twist themselves around with no thought to the sanity of the lost and the confused. New York has its 42^nd, 43^rd etc etc streets, Boston has School Street (upon which there is no school), Water Street (without water of any kind), Court Street (reliably, sans Court) and Milk Street. I haven't been to Milk Street in a while, so can't comment on the lack or presence of milk.  

 I work on Summer Street, which you can get to by walking straight down Winter. Winter turns into Summer. It's so cute.

 This morning I got off the train at Park Street, which sits at the top of Winter Street. For the last few days Boston hasn't been exactly a delight to walk in, it's very humid and hot right now and the city smells like the laundry basket of a fat drunk. The heat can be oppressive at times, and my pale skin doesn't appreciate it.

 I walked down Winter Street, soon crossing the border with Summer Street. Just a couple of minutes until I get to work. I noticed a man walking towards me who was clearly suffering in the heat, his situation probably not helped by the fact that he was wearing boots, thick trousers, a woolen sweater and a generously plump overcoat.

'Excuse me!' he said walking towards me.

'Oh god', I whispered to myself.

'Do you know where Winter is?' he asked.

'Right there', I told him pointing behind me.

'Thank the Lord!' he exalted. 'Summer is too hot for me!'.

 Classic. He walked away chuckling, I did the same.

 Alise and I have often talked about possibly moving to the UK some day, my family is all there and we both like the place. If we do go though, one thing I am sure of is that I'll miss Boston and its inhabitants terribly.

I Hate My Job...

Please forgive me, I know not what I do.

I decided that today I'd share with you the below. I do this knowing full well that:

1) It is not baby related.
2) It is not my own work, merely stolen from someone who posted it to www.reddit.com
3) It contains rude words, and
4) It's terribly, terribly funny.

I share this with you because I thought we could all do with a break. Some light relief; some joy in our lives. With that said, I bring you... 'I Hate My Job'.

My job is so fucking unbelievable. I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:

First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on makeup. She is extremely self-centered and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.

The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I'm not sure she even showers, much less shaves her "womanly" parts. I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store, she moans like a cat in heat.

But the jewel of the crowd has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I'm sure after work. He probably hasn't been sober anytime in the last ten years, and he's only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960's, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work. Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke. Hell, sometimes I even think it's trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonalds and Burger King, every single fucking day.

Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and shit.

A Note About Twittering...

To be perfectly honest, I'm not the biggest fan of Twitter. I wasn't the biggest fan of myspace, until I used it; and I thought Facebook was a step too far. Really what I'm saying here is that I'm an old man who doesn't take kindly to change, but when I finally succumb, I embrace this new fangled technology and pretend that I always liked it, and had an account 'before it was cool'.

With that said, I am now on twitter under the username 'babydaddyjeremy', and will send little snippets from my phone and ipod whenever I feel that what I want to say is worthy of publication. I promise to never 'twitter' anything along the lines of 'I'm making toast'. I may 'twitter' something along the lines of 'I made toast and now the fire putting out people are here', and I probably will 'twitter' something along the lines of 'We are currently 10 feet away from David Beckham', which we will be on Saturday.

Cranky Cranky Baby Daddy

I've been a little depressed recently.

There's been a lot to think about, a lot to do. There's been a lot to be worried about, a lot to be hopeful for. A lot to be thankful for, a lot to be scared about. In short, there's been a lot of 'stuff' on my mind.

The obvious things that I've been down about are easier to deal with. I know that these aliens cost a lot of money, so we've both been trying to save what we can and buy cheap things when we see them.  I'm aware that we won't have nearly as much free time as we do now and that doing the things that now can be done quickly and without pain will suddenly take an age and will make me want to scream. I know that I will feel less the center of attention in Alise's life, basically because I will not be the center of her attentions. A lie in will be a rare event, I won't be able to have 'me' time at home while Alise is in the bath. I know all of these things are coming.

So, why the depression? Alise is no doubt thinking all of these things and is also dealing with raging hormones, sore boobs and nausea. I should be having it easy right now. I don't even have to do anything special for her, she hasn't sent me out to satisfy her food cravings and she can still happily lift things on her own.

Perhaps that's it. Perhaps that's what's causing my mood. I'm not the most patient of people at the best of times, and now we're playing the longest waiting game that we've ever played. We have a long time to wait for baby, and apart from buying a few small things right now (we don't want to get too much or spend too much money right now, just in case); there's just not much that I can do. I really like to 'help', to ease symptoms and look after people. Right now, there's really nothing that I can do to help Alise or the alien that's slowly growing inside her.

Perhaps, perhaps that is it. I'm really not sure; I can't quite put my finger on it. I am totally in love with Alise and totally do want this child, so please don't think that I'm feeling regrets or having cold feet. Maybe these are feelings that all future baby daddies go through, maybe this is just me. Who knows.

'I would swap our baby for a toilet right now'

The above is a direct quote. Alise on Saturday, as we drove in New Hampshire.

Being pregnant, it turns out, is no picnic. Apart from all of the other early pregnancy side effects that I had already known about (cravings, hormones running a bit wild, boobs getting bigger), the frequent urge to pee is the one that has caused Alise the most trouble in these early weeks.

On Saturday we went to the Friendly Farm in Dublin, NH. The GPS and Alise's memories of her childhood stomping grounds collaborated beautifully to get us there in quick time, with no wild detours. Coming home we stopped at a flea market where we picked up a gliding rocking chair type thing for $30.

It turns out that the gliding rocking chair type things usually come with gliding ottomans, allowing mother (or father, I guess) to sit with baby with legs up, and still rock. I'm planning on making my own with an upturned milk crate, a cushion, duct tape and a couple of skateboards. Regardless, chair sans ottoman was in the back of the car and we were on our way home. and we were a bit lost.

And Alise really needed to pee.

Alise has commonly been getting up in the night, having to go right before leaving work and then when she gets home, and asking me to stop where toilets are found when we are out on a drive. We often go on drives and find ourselves in the middle of nowhere; we now have to consider the location of facilities when we do so. Not planning our trips properly leaves us with the choice of pulling off the road that we are on and hiking a short while into the woods so that she can pee with the wildlife, or bursting into a small town gas station which has one unisex bathroom with no toilet paper and a notice that says that 'the doors will be locked if I find a mess like I did last Tuesday'.

Ah, the joys of early pregnancy. Soon to be replaced by further joys of later pregnancy.

Video Diary 4 - Outside Broadcast!

Alise and I took a trip to the Friendly Farm in Dublin, New Hampshire this weekend. Totally recommended for families and kids at heart everywhere!

Show me the way to go home...

My brother has two children.

Little darlings they are, Ben is the oldest and is… 5? I think? Scarlett their youngest is 2. roughly.

I'm the only one of the family to live in the States, my brother (and wife and kids) live close to Nottingham, England; close to my sister and her husband, and my mother and father and their respective spouses. My grandmother also lives close by, and can often be found in the 'Lord Ted' pub dissecting a piece of fish with the touch of a skilled brain surgeon (or should that be sturgeon? Boom boom!!)

So anyway. They all live close together, I'm 3,000 miles away and visit them roughly once every two years.

Back to Ben and Scarlett. They are adorable little humans who are very well behaved and very sweet. One thing that makes them even sweeter is their delicate middle English accents. They say words properly but with an unmistakable Nottingham accent, and could easily play the parts of lovable urchins in amateur productions of Oliver Twist or something. They really are, that cute and I wish I could see them more often.

Now, I'm not saying for one moment that our child or children won't be cute. With a bit of genetic luck they'll take more after their mother than their father, and they'll hopefully be fairly well raised. They will be taught to respect everyone, to be considerate and kind, and they'll be encouraged to be successful in whatever they want to do. I will of course love them like I've never loved before, and I'll do anything that I can to ensure that they have the best lives ever.

But.

And this is a fairly big but.

They'll be American.

They'll talk with an American accent. They'll consider America their home. They'll probably call American football 'football' and my football 'soccer'. They'll celebrate Thanksgiving and be taught on Independence day that they are celebrating victory against the British. They'll call their mum 'mom'. They'll not only know what snow is but what to do with it. They'll know the words of their national anthem before they know the words to mine. They won't understand cricket and they won't care that they don't.

Maybe Ben and Scarlett would like a playmate or two?