Well, last week you read the first blog installation of me actually being a father. I was no longer an EXPECTING father, but the real deal. At least, I hope you read it. If you didn’t, well, go freakin’ do it. I put a lot into these things and I want you to. It’ll make me feel good and it’ll only take you about 5 minutes Continue reading Beware the first poop…
To say that the last two years have been quite an educational experience is an understatement of epic proportions. It’s like calling a slice of crispy, fried, delicious bacon just a piece of meat. It’s much, much more than that. There have been many, many things I have learned. And even more things that have completely left me at a loss…
One of those many things that have left me scratching my head, as confused as a baby in a titty bar, has been getting Emma dressed, in a respectable manner, on my own. She is without a doubt the most flamboyant and eccentric individual I’ve ever known. No amount of sparkle is enough. She wants loud, flashy colors, sparkly shoes, rhinestone belts, bright red lipstick, shiny, gaudy jewelry and as much pomp and circumstance as humanly possible. Nothing is too ostentatious. Nothing is too over the top. Admittedly, her spunky attitude and extravagant taste in clothing and accessories can be completely adorable…..but if you are a new dad, just trying to get by, it can be unbelievably exasperating.
As my wife became more and more pregnant by the day, and sleeping less and less, I tried to give her all the time to rest that I could. So I took on the responsibility of getting the girls up and dressed and would deliver them to school before I’d leave for work everyday. Waking them up? No problem. Getting them some breakfast? Easy. Getting Emma dressed in clothes that wouldn’t embarrass her mother to the point of not wanting to go out in public…..not quite so simple. If left to her own devices, she could walk in her closet naked and walk out looking like Cyndi Lauper and Boy George had a secret lovechild, and then hired George Clinton to be her stylist. It’s gonna be funky.
Well, on one such sunny day in March, tragedy struck. Now, I had definitely let her get to school in some questionable outfit choices before now. The occasional raised eyebrows from mom when we got home were a telltale sign of disapproval. Generally, in the mornings, I was more concerned with getting them out the door and to the school before the bell rang. So she may have flown under the radar a few times in moon boots and a tutu. But on this day…….I’ll admit, it’s possible that I wasn’t paying attention. I was talking on the phone as she came out a minute or so after Abby and I and climbed into the backseat. Off to school we go…..”bye girls! Have a great day”! And then I headed to work. Well, that morning, April began to have a few contractions, and I was afraid to get too far from home, so I just worked the afternoon at the house, then at 3:00, we went to get the girls from school. First Abby…..then to the elementary school to get the blonde. We pull up, and out walks Emma. As she walked up to the truck, I was equal parts scared of her mother, yet dumbstruck. She was wearing a yellow shirt. So far, so good, right? Red hair bow….ok, probably not the best choice, but we’ll take it. Sparkly pink and silver Toms on her feet. Ok, its getting worse. However, on bottom, completely inexplicably, she was wearing a pair of old, faded yellow Dollar Store pajama pants with green writing on them, that were MUCH too short, coming only just below her knees, with black tights protruding beneath. As her teacher walks her up to the car, April wheels around on me like a mama bear……”WHATTTT did you send her to school in”?!?! I stumbled and stuttered for an answer, but I simply didn’t have one. “April, I SWEAR I have never seen those pants in my life”! As Emma gets in the truck, April turns to the backseat and says “Emma, what in the world are you wearing”?! She said “Well mom, I was bent over my desk signing my homework, and Mrs. Elliott came running up and said “Emma, you can’t wear those pants, cuz I can see your panties’…..then she sent me to the nurses station and they told me I had to put these pajama pants on because I was only wearing panty hose. And these pants are the ones that they give to the kids that pee their pants at school. But I’m pretty sure they’re clean”……
This……can’t end well. April spins back around on me….”You sent her to school in PANTYHOSE”???? My mouth opened, but no words came out. Yeah, I guess I did.
In my defense, the sun wasn’t all the way up, and I couldn’t see her all that well. And where was my backup??! Abby is supposed to watch me and make sure I don’t do something stupid!! She TOTALLY let me down.
Moral of the story, guys…….pantyhose, by themselves, are inappropriate attire for school. Or, really, for anything. At all. Anywhere.
Well, now I know. Next time she tries that crap with me, I’ll be all over it. No way Jose….ain’t happenin’. Next time…I got this.
Ok, so you survived the first month. Way to go, brotha. Month #2 is going to be lots more of the same. Only now, it’s going to start getting more complicated. You think you didn’t understand her before??? Bwahahahaha. Poor fool.
First, as the name of this volume would indicate, she’s going to be STARVING. All the time. At least, April was. Like a ravenous lioness attacking a wounded baby wildebeest. Or my 15 year old nephew on a bacon cheeseburger. She’s like the Incredible Hulk…..you won’t like her if she’s hungry. Really. You won’t like her.
Fun fact: everything she eats is going to make her sick. Everything. Your Tums bill will be as high as your light bill for the next several months. April didn’t have morning sickness. She had afternoon sickness. Whatever she had for lunch would generally make her sick about 2 or 3 o’clock. The only problem was, she’d crave the foods that made her sick again the next day. That makes tons of sense. “This food makes me feel like dying, so I’ll be sure and eat copious amounts of it every day”. Then, another fun little curveball…..the things that she used to like BEFORE she was pregnant, she doesn’t like anymore.
God didn’t want ya to get to feelin’ too comfortable with this whole pregnancy thing. So, just as you start understanding what the hell was going on, he changes it. That’s particularly awesome when you’re trying to be the supportive, thoughtful dude that you’re supposed to be, and you bring her home a special surprise treat. A surprise treat that she used to love. That now, she won’t eat. It may even make her gag. Yay me. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’ll appreciate your effort, but you definitely will not get the kudos that you feel you deserve. Or the sex, if that’s what you were shooting for. Which I normally was, and you probably are, too.
During April’s pregnancy, she first zoned in on McAllister’s Deli, and we literally ate there EVERY day. Ok, at least 4 times a week, minimum. I liked McAllister’s. Notice that this is past tense…..I LIKED McAllister’s. But we WORE that place out. And I could care less if I ever eat another California Turkey Rueben for all of eternity. Plus, I heard someone there burp really loud one day, and I haven’t been able to forget about it. Thankfully, she eventually wore it out for herself too…..and it started to make her sick. YES!!!! Praise Jesus.
Ok, let’s recap: she’s starving, craves specific food, said specific food makes her sick every time she eats it. Whines never-endingly (is that a word?) to you ABOUT being sick, but if you mention to her that perhaps she shouldn’t eat the food that makes her feel sick, then you’re being insensitive, because ” it’s not her fault that her stomach is upset and that’s the only thing that sounds good”! Also, she’s so tired that she can barely stand, and this also puts her in an excellent mood. Starving. Sick. Tired. She’s going to be lovely. People talk about the pregnant “glow”, but I think it’s actually just rage and fury bursting out of her skin. Oh, and don’t forget, “And you aren’t the one that’s having to carry this baby”!!!! Got it? Got it. Good. Just keep your head down, and remember, this is worth it. Cuz there’s that horny stage coming up. Oh…..well, and the baby.