Babykins

OK, it's been WAY too long since I posted. "Not long enough" you say? Poo on you.

Yeah, I now use the word "poop" quite a bit. I have a baby. OK, to be fair, around the baby I still use the word "motherfucker" quite a bit. It's around the 12 yr old that I use the word poop a lot. Having kids in the house drastically changes your vocabulary. I've gone from a foul-mouthed single guy to a... OK, I'm still pretty foul-mouthed. But, I can feel it changing. The fact that I even use the word "poop" at all is evidence of that.

Pushing a baby in a stroller (or carrying one around) invites all sorts of women to comment and talk to me. Mostly young, very hot women. I'm sure they're using the baby as an excuse to talk to me. I'm certain that normally I'd just be too intimidating to them. It's OK ladies, I understand. But, too bad for you, I'm taken! *points to ring*

But, seriously, the stroller is almost like a super power. We have one of those all-terrain jogging strollers. It is awesome. I take him out on trails and the road and everything. The best thing is, unless you're under the age of 22 (and sometimes even then!) when you see a man pushing a baby stroller in the road, you slow down. Without exception. And about 80% of the people wave. I was just out walking around the neighborhood and one of our neighbors came out to introduce herself. In D&D terms, it's like a +5 to CHR. And I'm already an 18, so, this little dude pushes me way over the normal limits.


I think the biggest impact of having a baby is the constant interruptions. I shit you not. Sorry, I poop you not, it took us 6 hours to watch "This is 40" this weekend. It's a movie about kids and having a baby in your 40s. Ironic? Possibly. Let me check with Alanis Morrisette. For instance, I sat down to write this and I'd just walked and fed and burped and re-fed and then patted the guy to sleep. He was asleep for about 15 minutes in the crib that he HATES. I had to get up and get him. Luckily, he's happily sitting here next to me, my arm around him, watching Monday Night Football. He's chewing on his hand. Not his fingers or thumb. His hand. Right now I can still see his elbow. Most of it anyway. I'm guessing he's OK.

It's super sweet that he falls asleep on my chest. I love it. The downside? Sometimes that is ALL that will work. Still sweet. Less sweet when I need to work on the deck. Or weed the yard. Or cook. Or blog or talk on the phone or go to a job interview or help our 12-yr-old or basically do anything.

And, now he's screaming again. He's a good guy. Very mello. But, babies scream. And that means this blog must end prematurely. I'm going to post it anyway. Who knows when I'll get a chance again. :)