Have gun, will register

On Friday, I got to play with a gun. Jennifer and I went to one of those scary mega-baby stores to register for stuff, and I was able to use the scanner. At first, we thought it would be a fun time, especially after seeing all the little kids' clothing at the doorway. It wasn't long, though, before we realized we were in over our heads.

Up and down the aisles we went, scanner gun in hand, without a clue as to what we needed for the little one. We had so many questions. What do those numbers on the diaper boxes mean? Why are there so many different types of blankets? What are the multi-uses of multi-use pads? As we struggled through the store for nearly three hours, the intercom played a greatest-hits of mind-numbing pop songs. The whole experience started to feel like a trip to the dentist's, except you're not stuck in a chair, and the drill goes directly into your brain.

And that's how we ended up registering for something called "Baby Butt Smooth Ointment." It's made by a company called Boudreaux, which proudly boasts to also be the maker of "Baby Butt Paste." We're not exactly sure what it's for, but at least we know where it goes.

Those people at Boudreaux, they apparently don't like to sugar-coat the type of product they have. They thumbed their noses at the Snoozy's, Boppy's, and Huggies of the world. They don't need a cute name like "Goodbye Itchies" or "Bottom Sunshine." Nope, BUTT PASTE works just fine, thank you very much. In my daze, I was actually impressed with the direct nature of Boudreaux's products, and almost registered for the whole product line.

Instead, though, we decided to not go with the Butt Paste, and register for only the Baby Butt Smooth Ointment. We figure we'll give it a try, and if we like it a lot, maybe we'll ask for a Butt Paste gift basket for Christmas.

Chubby chucked

The little one got a checkup at the doctor's on Friday, and everything is going perfectly so far. We heard a strong heartbeat, and we asked the important questions, such as "Do foot rubs cause premature contractions?" (To Jennifer's relief, the answer was "no.") At the end of the checkup, though, we got some devastating news. As Jennifer twisted herself to get her shoes in back of her, the doctor frowned and said, "you shouldn't do that."

Imagine how crushed we were to hear that! After all, just four short years ago, Jennifer and I were finalists in a twisting contest at Stephanie & Chuck's wedding. But Friday, twisting was added to the long list of things Jennifer cannot do.

So when we got home, we smashed most of our Chubby Checker CD's. No more The Twist, Let's Twist Again, Slow Twistin', Twistin' at the Funeral, or our more recent favorite, Twistin' 'Cause You're Pregnant. We kept Limbo Rock because the doc didn't say anything to stop Jennifer from limboing, thank goodness.

This weekend we also began our search for a new apartment. No luck so far. Either the apartments we like are in bad neighborhoods, or they have knives coming out of the floorboards, and we just don't think that's safe for a newborn. We're optimistic, though, that we'll soon find something we like.

What Baby wants, Baby gets

We're back from our week in North Carolina. We had a great time celebrating Christmas with Jennifer's side of the family, and the little one seemed to enjoy it, too, having kicked Jennifer a few times before the flight home. He or she was apparently showing approval of the trip, or throwing a temper tantrum over leaving the warm south (the latter is highly unlikely, since our child will never throw a fit like that... right?).

Jennifer didn't feel any strong cravings this time around. During our last trip to Carolina, on Thanksgiving night, the little one DEMANDED sour cream and onion potato chips. Jennifer's parents didn't have any, so we trekked out, through the dark streets of Winston-Salem, searching for the snack, which, of course, wasn't easy to find. CVS didn't have any - plenty of barbecue, but no sour cream and onion. Walgreen's was closed because of the holiday, and so was Harris Teeter. At that point, grabbing a crowbar and breaking in seemed like a good idea - I'm sure the cops would have understood the situation. Fortunately I didn't have to, since we eventually found the snack at a gas station.

Now Jennifer's cravings haven't been as unusual as some of my friends have hoped they'd be. No pickles & peanut butter, or sardines & mayo. Nope - Jennifer has craved foods like apple juice, Starburst candy, and chocolate. She often declares "the baby wants..." before revealing her craving- therefore removing herself from all responsibilty while giving me no choice but to provide. For example: "The baby wants creme brulee... and diamond earrings."

(Above: Some of Jennifer's cravings)

Jennifer is still drinking a lot of apple juice, and having chocolate from time to time, but she says her cravings are, for the most part, a thing of the past. However, since she is eating for two, you can't blame her for having food on the mind. That was evident a little more than a week ago, when we were watching an old episode of Family Feud. The host announced topic of the face-off, which was "Name something that's worth the wait."

Jennifer sat up, and with wide eyes shouted "DESSERT!!!"

Meanwhile, on the TV, the contestant's answer was... "a husband."

Manny Christmas

Well, I did it. I went ahead and bought our little one his or her first gift. Even though this Christmas will happen before he or she is born, I couldn't resist picking up this little present when I was in Boston last weekend:



Yes, I know it may be too early to determine exactly where our child's baseball preferences will lie, but I'm pretty sure he or she will be a Red Sox fan. Just a father's hunch.

Plus, I've already taken some precautions to make sure he or she will never root for the Evil Empire.

I've labeled dangerous items in the house with the Yankees logo - open electrical outlets, paints, drugs, knives, etc. That way our child will grow up associating bad things with the Yankees.

Since we're in New York, we feel we'll have to teach our child "Right vs. Yankees" early on. When he or she gets a little older, we'll probably expand this treatment to build up a love for the Tar Heels, too. For example, on the rare occasion when our child does something wrong and needs to be grounded, we'll just say he or she is being "Blue Deviled." If we need to deprive him or her of dessert, we'll just call the punishment "The Krzyzewski."

And, trust me, our kid will not want to be "Steinbrennered." Let's just hope it never comes to that.