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. Unless you are a slow reader. Then maybe it’ll take 10 minutes. Some people are slow readers. That’s just fine. Don’t worry, I’m not making fun, at all.
Maybe you have some tracking problems, dyslexia etc. that slows your reading down, a little. Well, get this…..I read an article once that said that Alexander Graham Bell, Einstein, Da Vinci and lots of other very smart, very accomplished people were dyslexic. Who’s the first person you think of if you are thinking of somebody super smart? Einstein, of course. He’s synonymous with genius. And dyslexic. BOOM. Take that dyslexia. Don’t let it keep you down, man. If Einstein can be the smartest dude ever, with it, then you can read my blog with it. I’m generally a really fast reader, but I sometimes get sidetracked super easily, so maybe that’s your problem, too. Like, right now, for instance. I should be writing about being a dad, but somehow I veered off into people with dyslexia or ADHD. I took some new medicine today…..I’m not sure what I think about it just yet. I digress. Get back on track, Stone.
OK….so, last week’s blog, I stared at her, fell in love with her, was terrified of her, etc. etc.
So, once Gracee was all cleaned up and swaddled like a little burrito, the nurses picked up and disposed of the pan containing, what I assume was, April’s intestines and stuff like that, and folded Optimus Prime back into the shape of a regular hospital bed, we finally got to have our family snuggle time. Just us. We all hugged and smiled and stared. Red hair, blue eyes. Just what we wanted. She’s an angel. She’s perfect. Her sisters were so proud and so sweet. I was swelling with pride. NOTHING could bring me down from this emotional high. NOTHING. That’s when it HAPPENED. She pooped. No. That’s not correct. She POOPED. The poop of all poops. The single greatest poop of all time. When I am 90 years old, sitting around drinking beer and telling stories, this will be in my starting rotation. Gracee will be 56 years old, telling me to shut up and rolling her eyes at me. It’s going to be great.
Meconium, gentlemen. It sounds like something off the Periodic Table of Elements. Like something, that if you discovered it, would have some awesome scientific law named after you. Or maybe something that could be used to cure cancer, herpes or the common cold. But it’s not any of that cool stuff…..what it IS, is a thick, slimy, tar-like, viscous poop, the likes of which your eyes have never seen. It’s breathtaking.
You could fully lubricate a 427 Big Block engine with one diapers full of this stuff. If you were to get it on your skin, don’t plan on getting it off completely for about a week. I’ve delivered too many foals, calves, puppies and cats to count. So I’ve seen this sticky tar-like poop in plenty of animals, but it’s a bit more unnerving when you see this load come out of a tiny little baby butt.
Well, April’s epidural had not yet worn off, so she was immobile, when this first ungodly heap of slime cursploded from Gracee’s tiny little behind. Need I remind you, I’ve NEVER changed a diaper……ANY diaper. Much less THIS diaper. I laid Gracee on the table, unwrapped her swaddle blanket, and then her diaper. HOLY LORD. Sweet sassy molassey……I thought I was prepared for what I’d find…..but I was WRONG. You heard it here, folks. I was wrong.
Knowing that I was being watched by my wife, my daughters and our parents, I feel like, even though I was completely terrified and inexperienced, that I handled the situation as good as one could expect. I kept the poop in the diaper and OFF of Gracee and I, which I felt was a great victory. Although, I did have to ask my mom and April to be quiet, and just let me do it on my own. The good news is, if you want to call it that, is that you are going to get an EXORBITANT amount of practice changing these things, and you will get better at it, I promise you. April and I still do the “Not it” game when she poops, just out of habit, but I don’t think that either one of us really cares either way.
Congrats, guys. You’ve got a brand new, living, breathing, crying, poop machine. She’s all yours. Or he’s all yours. Whichever. At this point, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a tiny little creature that you are getting ready to take home…….so, I hope that you got some rest BEFORE this baby gets to your house.
Because remember when I talked about how you were both sleep deprived because the little lady couldn’t get comfortable in bed when she was all knocked up? Hahahahahaha. Hahahaha. HA. It ain’t going to get any better, any time soon, cowboy. You aren’t going to be getting a good night sleep for a loooooong time. So it’s best to just get used to that. This beautiful, perfect, miracle of a little person that you created with your no-no dirty parts is going to make damn sure of that. My advice……sleep WHENEVER you can. At work, at lunch, at church (pretend like you’re praying. My grandpa is a pro. Say “Praise God” every once in a while, for effect). If you’ve got an extra 5 minutes, take a power nap. Those few extra minutes could be the difference in you being home for dinner with the family, or calling your wife from the slammer because you need bail money due to a little bout with road rage. Not that I’d know anything about that…