Ten days until we leave Long Beach. Ten Days!!! I never thought I'd be so excited to be going back to Oklahoma. This is the third time I've sought refuge in the state I always swore I'd never call home. Maybe I actually like it more that I'll ever publicly admit. I do have great memories from there. The best memories of my life. I think that's part of the reason Adam and I want to stay there over the summer, to get a taste of the way our life was together last summer, before we had to become grown ups overnight.
I'm looking forward to dinners on the patio of The Mont, double features at the crappy theatre in Norman, and Pepsi Slurpees from 7-11 (unfortunately, this time, without the rum). Sidenote: for those of you fortunate enough to not have to worry about poisoning a baby inside of you with alcohol, I HIGHLY recommend you try a Pepsi Slurpee with rum poured in it. It's best on a summer's night, driving with the windows rolled down, and a cigarette (once again, no more for Rachel!) in one hand....sigh...i apologize for the temporary digression.
So, yes, we are looking forward to this summer. My belly is getting bigger by the day, and I can't wait to have people around to witness it. The baby's movements are getting stronger. It's been kicking me, and it seems to prefer kicking the left side of my abdomen. I had another dream last night about the baby. Once again, it had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was a boy. I have yet to dream of any other type of baby. Also, we are not finding out the sex of the baby. I really want it to be a surprise, and everything I want for the baby is neutral colored anyhow, and it hasn't stopped my mom from shopping already, so there you go. We will find out in 20 weeks. Also, I've started knitting a blanket for the baby. I bought a really soft yarn in an adorable shade of green. I want it to be done by the time I give birth, but I'm not sure if that will happen.
One more thing. Baby Showers. When do people have these? Do I throw one? If so, when? I'm asking this not because I'm wanting presents, but because I really, really want a reason to make sherbet punch. Growing up, it was at every baby shower and Baptist wedding I attended. I've always wanted sherbet punch of my very own. I even have an antique punch bowl to put it in!! So, yes, everyone is invited to the baby shower whenever it happens, even though it may only consist of people sitting in a circle drinking punch that may or may not be as good as I remember from childhood.
Oh! The baby just kicked! It's saying "hello"!....or maybe that was just my stomach not agreeing with my breakfast choice of Cool Ranch Doritos.....hmmm, let's just say it's the baby.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Sunday Afternoon Jitters
There really, truly isn't anything else like a nice Sunday afternoon. I don't know if something is in the air, or just the fact that everyone is a little more calm, but Sundays are just the perfect days where everything seems to fit...
UNLESS YOU'RE AT WORK.
Yes, ladies and germs, Capt. Adam is at work today. Not only is he at work, but he's all by himself at work. That breeze that he feels on the back of his neck, not the wind, but the air conditioning. Why, is that the sound of a lovely bird, flying around in glee? No, no. That's the sound of fluorescent lights humming away and you turn around to glance out of the one window in the office.
There are pros and cons to being at work on Sunday. Let's go over both:
Pros:
1. Nothing.
Cons:
1. I'm working on Sunday.
2. Rachel is slowly slipping into madness.
Part of my job (a job that continuously becomes more ridiculous with each passing day) is that I have to work one weekend day a month (keep in mind that I also put in over 21 hours of over time last week, and that I have to be at work some Mondays at 4am and don't get off until 6pm, but I'm not complaining... much). Now, I'm supposed to be helping a casting director, but alas, she's not coming in until two, and I was not aware of this until about 11:30 this morning. So, what have I been doing all morning? Not a damn thing. And, why? Because nobody told/trained me on what to do on Sundays. They just told me to show up, and that's exactly what I'm doing.
However, I will do it. I will do it FOR THE BABY!
The bright side to all of this is that I was able to turn in my two weeks notice today, when nobody was around, so it won't be completely awkward handing it to my boss who sits in a giant grouping of cubicles that everyone eavesdrops on. I prefer the suprise attack. Keep things silent. Wait for him to make the move.
It will be nice to have a stable job, that pays, and will allow me to spend time with the budding family.
Speaking of which, I am starting to turn into a father. You might think that it is something that just happens like, "Oh!? You're pregnant?! I guess I'm a dad now?!". That does happen, but that is only the beginning. Becoming a father is actually a process that includes the following steps:
1. Finding out you're going to be a father.
2. Assuming financial responsibility by ceasing the purchase of videogames for oneself, and purchasing videogames that the child will be able to play when old enough (i.e. 6 months (babies like to suck on things, so it can suck the second player controller, while daddy teaches it 'Grand Theft Auto 4'))
3. Acknowledging that, since you will be the bread winner, that entitles you to walk around your house wearing nothing but underwear, and garnishing a beer in your right hand.
*sidenote* Step number three may be the one step that is actually incorporated into a person before becoming a father.
4. Becoming the official/unofficial pants wearer of the family.
5. Fixing stuff.
Just to let the reader know, I have achieved number 5 on said list, because I, single handedly, by myself, fixed/replaced the side view mirror on my car. Not only did I do it by myself, but my beloved was at work and nobody was around to witness the 'I Fixed My Car' dance. It was kind of like the Egyptian, but with more pelvic thrusts and jabs into the air.
It feels good to become a dad. I can't wait until I get to teach our child how to fix stuff. All I can say is that kid better be pretty resourceful because the lesson will be me breaking something, to see if he can figure it out how to fix it himself, while I pat it on the shoulder for a good job done, or shake my head at it in shame while spraying it with the water hose for not doing it properly. That's fatherly love.
And, to conclude this entry, I would like to state, for the reader's pleasure, that the sex of the baby is...
...
To be found out when it is born!
Don't blame me, blame Rachel.
End blog.
UNLESS YOU'RE AT WORK.
Yes, ladies and germs, Capt. Adam is at work today. Not only is he at work, but he's all by himself at work. That breeze that he feels on the back of his neck, not the wind, but the air conditioning. Why, is that the sound of a lovely bird, flying around in glee? No, no. That's the sound of fluorescent lights humming away and you turn around to glance out of the one window in the office.
There are pros and cons to being at work on Sunday. Let's go over both:
Pros:
1. Nothing.
Cons:
1. I'm working on Sunday.
2. Rachel is slowly slipping into madness.
Part of my job (a job that continuously becomes more ridiculous with each passing day) is that I have to work one weekend day a month (keep in mind that I also put in over 21 hours of over time last week, and that I have to be at work some Mondays at 4am and don't get off until 6pm, but I'm not complaining... much). Now, I'm supposed to be helping a casting director, but alas, she's not coming in until two, and I was not aware of this until about 11:30 this morning. So, what have I been doing all morning? Not a damn thing. And, why? Because nobody told/trained me on what to do on Sundays. They just told me to show up, and that's exactly what I'm doing.
However, I will do it. I will do it FOR THE BABY!
The bright side to all of this is that I was able to turn in my two weeks notice today, when nobody was around, so it won't be completely awkward handing it to my boss who sits in a giant grouping of cubicles that everyone eavesdrops on. I prefer the suprise attack. Keep things silent. Wait for him to make the move.
It will be nice to have a stable job, that pays, and will allow me to spend time with the budding family.
Speaking of which, I am starting to turn into a father. You might think that it is something that just happens like, "Oh!? You're pregnant?! I guess I'm a dad now?!". That does happen, but that is only the beginning. Becoming a father is actually a process that includes the following steps:
1. Finding out you're going to be a father.
2. Assuming financial responsibility by ceasing the purchase of videogames for oneself, and purchasing videogames that the child will be able to play when old enough (i.e. 6 months (babies like to suck on things, so it can suck the second player controller, while daddy teaches it 'Grand Theft Auto 4'))
3. Acknowledging that, since you will be the bread winner, that entitles you to walk around your house wearing nothing but underwear, and garnishing a beer in your right hand.
*sidenote* Step number three may be the one step that is actually incorporated into a person before becoming a father.
4. Becoming the official/unofficial pants wearer of the family.
5. Fixing stuff.
Just to let the reader know, I have achieved number 5 on said list, because I, single handedly, by myself, fixed/replaced the side view mirror on my car. Not only did I do it by myself, but my beloved was at work and nobody was around to witness the 'I Fixed My Car' dance. It was kind of like the Egyptian, but with more pelvic thrusts and jabs into the air.
It feels good to become a dad. I can't wait until I get to teach our child how to fix stuff. All I can say is that kid better be pretty resourceful because the lesson will be me breaking something, to see if he can figure it out how to fix it himself, while I pat it on the shoulder for a good job done, or shake my head at it in shame while spraying it with the water hose for not doing it properly. That's fatherly love.
And, to conclude this entry, I would like to state, for the reader's pleasure, that the sex of the baby is...
...
To be found out when it is born!
Don't blame me, blame Rachel.
End blog.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sympathy Preggers
Now that Rachel is starting to show, the reality of the pregnancy is beginning to set in. She's begun to eat more, get a little burpy, and we've even begun to pick out baby clothes. Why, just last night, we purchased a little Dodgers outfit so that the baby will always have a little California in it.
But, nothing has begun to make the pregnancy more apparent than one thing:
Yep. Sympanthy preggers.
What exactly is sympathy preggers? Well, doctors of science have concluded through extensive studies that sympathy preggers is when the partner of the pregnant mother starts to develop a little bit of a belly themselves. The partner begins to eat more, get a little bit more gassy, and grow a little bit in the tummy region.
An example:
The other morning, as part of Rachel's 25th birthday, I went to our favorite breakfast nook to purchase Rachel's favorite pregnant food, hasbrowns cooked with crispy bacon and cheese baked in. I, being the health concious person that I am, only ordered hasbrowns and a SIDE of bacon. When I arrived back at the apartment, I inspected the order and noted that they had given Rachel an extra side of bacon, too. Well, since she really can't have bacon whilst pregnant, she was very generous (and on her birthday even!) to let me have her bacon. And, I ate all nine pieces in one sitting, followed by hasbrowns.
But, the kicker to this scientific anomoly:
I might begin lactating.
Yes, breathe that in for a moment.
Disturbing, no?
Not only will I have a little baby belly minus baby, but my nipples will finally have a purpose. They will excrete a milk like fluid to the amusement of God who will laugh hysterically at the odd stains that turn up on my shirt while playing solitaire at work. Mind you, this doesn't happen to all men, but guess who it is going to happen to?
Moi.
Why? Because God thinks its funny when things happen to Adam. Oh, God, you really got me on this one.
All is not lost however. There are ways to combat such a thing. For the buddha belly, I have begun to work out. This below picture is an illustration of my new hobby:
And, the reason for bicycle riding. I get to ride behind this beautiful woman:
I do love her so.
As for the milking, I will just have to cut up little ziplock baggies and tape them to my nipples to collect and change during the day. Come to think of it, maybe I should wait until after the baby is delivered to lose the belly, because it would be more odd to have a completely round chest as opposed to man breasts that leak.
But, enough about milking.
On a different note, we are counting down the weeks until we move back to the American Heartland. And, it couldn't come at a better time. Work is becoming a lot more hectic, with me going in at six in the morning and not getting off until nine. The universe does work in strange ways, because if I were to keep this job, I would never be able to see my new family, and that would be a damn shame. The overtime is ridiculous, and I don't know how much longer I can help cast for a film entitled 'Hard Breakers', which, if you didn't know, I have to sit at a computer until four in the afternoon, when production finally calls with an order for tomorrow, and then I have to spend the rest of the evening looking for beach bums and bunnies that know how to play volleyball. It is very superficial, and my soul dies a little every time I have to look for a beach bubble blonde (although, it does grow a little when I have to find midget albino jugglers who can speak another language).
But, I get to come home to the wonderful woman that is going to be my wife. And, there really is nothing better than coming home after a long day, snuggling up, and getting fat with someone.
Life is good sometmes. Especially when sometimes looks like this:
Oh, and I'm totally dating an older woman. I will never get tired of putting that out there.
Happy 25th Birthday, Rachel.
End blog.
But, nothing has begun to make the pregnancy more apparent than one thing:
Yep. Sympanthy preggers.
What exactly is sympathy preggers? Well, doctors of science have concluded through extensive studies that sympathy preggers is when the partner of the pregnant mother starts to develop a little bit of a belly themselves. The partner begins to eat more, get a little bit more gassy, and grow a little bit in the tummy region.
An example:
The other morning, as part of Rachel's 25th birthday, I went to our favorite breakfast nook to purchase Rachel's favorite pregnant food, hasbrowns cooked with crispy bacon and cheese baked in. I, being the health concious person that I am, only ordered hasbrowns and a SIDE of bacon. When I arrived back at the apartment, I inspected the order and noted that they had given Rachel an extra side of bacon, too. Well, since she really can't have bacon whilst pregnant, she was very generous (and on her birthday even!) to let me have her bacon. And, I ate all nine pieces in one sitting, followed by hasbrowns.
But, the kicker to this scientific anomoly:
I might begin lactating.
Yes, breathe that in for a moment.
Disturbing, no?
Not only will I have a little baby belly minus baby, but my nipples will finally have a purpose. They will excrete a milk like fluid to the amusement of God who will laugh hysterically at the odd stains that turn up on my shirt while playing solitaire at work. Mind you, this doesn't happen to all men, but guess who it is going to happen to?
Moi.
Why? Because God thinks its funny when things happen to Adam. Oh, God, you really got me on this one.
All is not lost however. There are ways to combat such a thing. For the buddha belly, I have begun to work out. This below picture is an illustration of my new hobby:
And, the reason for bicycle riding. I get to ride behind this beautiful woman:
I do love her so.
As for the milking, I will just have to cut up little ziplock baggies and tape them to my nipples to collect and change during the day. Come to think of it, maybe I should wait until after the baby is delivered to lose the belly, because it would be more odd to have a completely round chest as opposed to man breasts that leak.
But, enough about milking.
On a different note, we are counting down the weeks until we move back to the American Heartland. And, it couldn't come at a better time. Work is becoming a lot more hectic, with me going in at six in the morning and not getting off until nine. The universe does work in strange ways, because if I were to keep this job, I would never be able to see my new family, and that would be a damn shame. The overtime is ridiculous, and I don't know how much longer I can help cast for a film entitled 'Hard Breakers', which, if you didn't know, I have to sit at a computer until four in the afternoon, when production finally calls with an order for tomorrow, and then I have to spend the rest of the evening looking for beach bums and bunnies that know how to play volleyball. It is very superficial, and my soul dies a little every time I have to look for a beach bubble blonde (although, it does grow a little when I have to find midget albino jugglers who can speak another language).
But, I get to come home to the wonderful woman that is going to be my wife. And, there really is nothing better than coming home after a long day, snuggling up, and getting fat with someone.
Life is good sometmes. Especially when sometimes looks like this:
Oh, and I'm totally dating an older woman. I will never get tired of putting that out there.
Happy 25th Birthday, Rachel.
End blog.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Yep.
This is me at 18 weeks (4.5 months). I swear this belly grew overnight. I got dressed today, looked in the mirror and let out a little shriek. You can tell by the expression on my face, that I'm thrilled with my new look.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Belly Hiccup
For the past half hour I've been watching clips from the new movie "Baby Mama", which looks hi-larious. Adam and I are going to see it in a couple of weeks, because for some reason he says that Tina Fey and Amy Poehler's characters remind him of us. I'll let you guess who is who. So anyways, I was watching a clip from the movie where Tina Fey(Adam?) is trying to get Amy Poehler(Rachel?) to take her prenatal vitamins, and I felt a teen tiny little punch in my abdomen. Sort of like my stomach hiccuped. I Iayed still and it happened again, which confirmed it was the baby kicking or punching me! It's the first time I have felt the baby move. So, apparently the baby likes comedies. Either that, or it was trying to remind me to take my vitamin...
Sunday, April 6, 2008
It Doesn't Matter What You Do, What Matters Is If You Want To Do It.
Can I tell you how much I love my fiancee? Ask me that question, and I will give you a great answer.
She is nothing short of amazing.
She wrote this song. (I put it to sappy pictures.)
Nothing short of amazing.
End blog.
She is nothing short of amazing.
She wrote this song. (I put it to sappy pictures.)
Nothing short of amazing.
End blog.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
One Small Victory at a Time...
A lot has happened since you last left us, but it is good for all of you to know that we are on a good path now. Most importantly, Rachel has stopped peeing in the shower (for the time being). We have also, ladies and gentlemen, decided that we will be moving to Oklahoma at the beginning of May, where we will live for a while over the summer to help get us started in Kansas City. This is a good move because as tough as we are (and Rachel's the toughest broad I know), we would like to be around family and start saving money, seeing as how California has turned into a money-sucking-she-beast of epic proportions. I can actually hear the state getting fatter as my bank account gets smaller.
Also, we've decided that we are going to wait and wed in March. Now, hold your horses out there people! I know what you're thinking, "Oh, my. How scandalous. They're having a child out of wedlock." Well, no son/daughter of mine is going to be called a bastard (unless by it's father, with the word 'rat' in front of it, and in reference to a fight with the child when it is a teenager and has taken off with the car), and to clear anything up, our child is a love child, conceived out of love with love by love, but I'll get to that transition in a minute.
We are planning on getting married in Kansas City next March. And, people can come. So, put on your Sunday best and prepare for next March, because I only have six people coming and I need to fill up the groom's side so when the baby looks out into the crowd he can see that daddy is an important person (not to mention the fact that I need to counterbalance mommy because she's inviting pretty much everyone in the northern hemisphere). So, come one, come all, and I promise you that we're actually getting married this time.
In other news, I have found that karma actually exists. Now, I'm not one to believe in all of that eastern spiritual mumbo jumbo (and, voodoo is not mumbo jumbo, folks) but I've have been priveleged to see the universe reveal it's mysticism to me on several different occasions.
For some strange reason, something has been happening to me. Call it stress, call it being bitten by a radioactive spider, call it what you will, but I've found a new strength in myself that I never knew I had. Granted the side effect to this new power is a constant twitching of my left eye, but all super people have flaws. With this power, I will give you two examples of how I've stood up to people:
1. I keyed a car that was pissing me off.
2. I called a dirty hippie a 'dirty hippie' to his face.
Yes. Very small victories, but victories none the less. And, this is about where fate steps in, and to counterbalance my super victories, here are some examples of karma:
1. Someone knocked the driver's side mirror off of my car.
2. While I was at work on Friday, I was about to go home, but then my boss stopped me and said that they needed to find five protestors for the movie I'm working on, to work on Monday. Okay, I thought, no problem. Oh, but then he went into more detail, and I had to find five, yes five, protestor's with dreadlocks. And, we all know what kind of protestor's have dreadlocks, the dirtiest of the dirty hippies. So, on a Friday night, I had to call dirty hippies and ask them if they wanted to get up on a Monday morning at 5:30am. Oh, yes, it is that ridiculous. Here are some examples of the replies that I received:
a) Meandering voicemails of men and women saying 'dude', and 'take care of yourself', and 'you can't call this number now, my phone doesn't work, but I've moved in with really great people, with great energy and you can call there if it is working', and 'bless you'.
b) Indications that the people I'm calling are stoned or getting stoned.
c) People living in Portland without any money.
d) Reggae music in the background of two callers.
So, guess how many people said yes. Yeah, that's right, none of them. Why, because they are flaky, stoned, dirty hippies, who haven't washed their hair for days. So, yeah, I stayed for no real reason in particular. I mean, come on, do you know any dirty hippie that is going to get up at 5:30 on a Monday morning? I rest my case.
The universe works, ladies and gentleman, but calling a dirty hippie a 'dirty hippie' to his face will always be a small victory, even if I have to call the rat bastards later in the week.
Now, before I go, I would like to let you in on an investment oppertunity that will be beneficial to you and yours. I have a product for you that you can always count on, and apparently, will triple your money. It slices and dices, and can be taught to julien fries. That product:
Adam Martin.
That's right. You should invest in me. Because according to the federal government, I am my own business, thus they will tax me like a business, even if I don't make enough money to support myself. I mean, I know that I am pretty amazing (minus that twitchy eye thing) but, am I amazing enough to have to owe the government $181.00? Yes. Yes, I am.
Invest in Adam. I could be the future.
End Blog.
Also, we've decided that we are going to wait and wed in March. Now, hold your horses out there people! I know what you're thinking, "Oh, my. How scandalous. They're having a child out of wedlock." Well, no son/daughter of mine is going to be called a bastard (unless by it's father, with the word 'rat' in front of it, and in reference to a fight with the child when it is a teenager and has taken off with the car), and to clear anything up, our child is a love child, conceived out of love with love by love, but I'll get to that transition in a minute.
We are planning on getting married in Kansas City next March. And, people can come. So, put on your Sunday best and prepare for next March, because I only have six people coming and I need to fill up the groom's side so when the baby looks out into the crowd he can see that daddy is an important person (not to mention the fact that I need to counterbalance mommy because she's inviting pretty much everyone in the northern hemisphere). So, come one, come all, and I promise you that we're actually getting married this time.
In other news, I have found that karma actually exists. Now, I'm not one to believe in all of that eastern spiritual mumbo jumbo (and, voodoo is not mumbo jumbo, folks) but I've have been priveleged to see the universe reveal it's mysticism to me on several different occasions.
For some strange reason, something has been happening to me. Call it stress, call it being bitten by a radioactive spider, call it what you will, but I've found a new strength in myself that I never knew I had. Granted the side effect to this new power is a constant twitching of my left eye, but all super people have flaws. With this power, I will give you two examples of how I've stood up to people:
1. I keyed a car that was pissing me off.
2. I called a dirty hippie a 'dirty hippie' to his face.
Yes. Very small victories, but victories none the less. And, this is about where fate steps in, and to counterbalance my super victories, here are some examples of karma:
1. Someone knocked the driver's side mirror off of my car.
2. While I was at work on Friday, I was about to go home, but then my boss stopped me and said that they needed to find five protestors for the movie I'm working on, to work on Monday. Okay, I thought, no problem. Oh, but then he went into more detail, and I had to find five, yes five, protestor's with dreadlocks. And, we all know what kind of protestor's have dreadlocks, the dirtiest of the dirty hippies. So, on a Friday night, I had to call dirty hippies and ask them if they wanted to get up on a Monday morning at 5:30am. Oh, yes, it is that ridiculous. Here are some examples of the replies that I received:
a) Meandering voicemails of men and women saying 'dude', and 'take care of yourself', and 'you can't call this number now, my phone doesn't work, but I've moved in with really great people, with great energy and you can call there if it is working', and 'bless you'.
b) Indications that the people I'm calling are stoned or getting stoned.
c) People living in Portland without any money.
d) Reggae music in the background of two callers.
So, guess how many people said yes. Yeah, that's right, none of them. Why, because they are flaky, stoned, dirty hippies, who haven't washed their hair for days. So, yeah, I stayed for no real reason in particular. I mean, come on, do you know any dirty hippie that is going to get up at 5:30 on a Monday morning? I rest my case.
The universe works, ladies and gentleman, but calling a dirty hippie a 'dirty hippie' to his face will always be a small victory, even if I have to call the rat bastards later in the week.
Now, before I go, I would like to let you in on an investment oppertunity that will be beneficial to you and yours. I have a product for you that you can always count on, and apparently, will triple your money. It slices and dices, and can be taught to julien fries. That product:
Adam Martin.
That's right. You should invest in me. Because according to the federal government, I am my own business, thus they will tax me like a business, even if I don't make enough money to support myself. I mean, I know that I am pretty amazing (minus that twitchy eye thing) but, am I amazing enough to have to owe the government $181.00? Yes. Yes, I am.
Invest in Adam. I could be the future.
End Blog.
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