Baby On Your Six

So, last night was just about the strangest night DrummerWife and I have had in quite a while. It started off with DrummerWife deciding that she had a hankering for Taco Bell. Her first real craving, and it was for Taco Bell. So, DrummerWife and I made an ill-fated run for the border. We get to Taco Bell, and order our cut-rate pseudo-Mexican food. We eat said food, and almost immediately, we're both deeply regretting the decision to eat at the 'Bell.' Well, sick to our stomachs, and barely fed, we decide to head back home. And that's when the worst radio commercial in the history of radio commercials came on. It dealt with some sensitive material, but opened itself up to a virtual treasure trove of jokes. One of which I very nearly made, except for the fact that I realized that saying the words that I was about to say would probably drive DrummerWife, in her pregnant, overly-emotional state right into tear-filled hysterics. Okay, fine. I didn't say it. We're f...

It's true. And DrummerWife and I discovered this fact first-hand Saturday night. DrummerFather assisted me, and we got the new furniture that DrummerWife and I ordered last Monday night into the tiny little apartment we unfortunately occupy until April 15th. Getting the new sofa in was a bit of a trial, but we eventually overcame the old, small, cramped doorway of the DrummerApartment, and got the new furniture inside. The chair is a revelation. And the sofa is a blessing. Both are about 4326.34x the comfort level of our previous pieces. You may be asking yourself, "but Drummer, how can you be sure enough to give such a precise measurement of the furniture's comparative comfort levels?" Rest easy, young Padawan - DrummerWife and I spent the better part of Sunday performing very scientific tests on the furniture. Most of these tests involved sitting on the couch and chair and just going "Wow. [This piece] is so much nicer than the old [piece]."

This is so unrelated to anything having to do with DrummerBaby, DrummerWife, or even me. But I found this blog that I absolutely find hysterical and I just felt compelled to put it here. Chewbacca has joined the Blogosphere . :)

The weekend is almost here. Thankfully. DrummerWife has been fighting a cold all week, and being pregnant, can take just about nothing to help her cope with it. She's off work today and staying home to work on a Lenten devotional for church, and then tomorrow morning she has to go to the Suburban Home Show and man the booth for her company for the day. Speaking of tomorrow, DrummerFather and I have to go and pick up the new furniture that DrummerWife and I purchased earlier this week at furniture store here in town . We got a new sofa and chair to replace the sofa and chair we're currently utilizing, which a friend of ours lovingly donated to us when we moved into our current place. But before any of that, we're hitting up the Reading Royals hockey team tonight. We're meeting DrummerWife's cousin, her husband, and their two boys at the arena, and going to the game tonight. The Royals are the ECHL affiliate of the L.A. Kings, and they're actually a pretty good d...

...and that was pretty cool, too. I tell ya, that little peanut's heart is just pounding away inside that uterus. And hearing that strong little heartbeat was worth the nearly hour and a half wait we had to endure to see the doctor. Apparently, several babies decided to be born at once, and just about every doctor in the practice that DrummerWife goes to were called the hospital to deliver them. One by C-Section, as well. And on top of that, our doctor had to tell a woman that she has cancer. So...yeah, she was a little bit busy. And it's not like you can just say "By the way, you've got cancer. Oh, and if it's all right with you, I'm behind my schedule, so I'm just going to scoot. Toodle-loo!" Since there was no ultrasound, we'll be waiting until March 20th before we know DrummerBaby's sex. And yes, I know some people are trying to tell us to wait, and not find out. But we're going to find out. We want to know. We want to be able to focus ...

All I have to do is bend over, place my mouth somewhat close to DrummerWife's stomach, and make any sort of low-frequency, deep, bassy sound and I can make DrummerBaby do uterine backflips. It's absolutely worth it to watch DrummerWife clutch her stomach and giggle as DrummerBaby swims around. I figure at some point, I'll stop with the bassy soundwaves and transition over to actual speech. According to DrummerWife, the more we speak to the baby, the more soothing and comforting our voices will be to DrummerBaby when it finally makes it's grand entrance into the world, and I guess I'd rather not have the baby expect every noise it's father makes to be "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGG". In addition to the uterine gymnastics, we've got another OB/GYN appointment coming up tomorrow, and we should be able to hear the heartbeat, if the doctor wants to fire up the Doppler doo-jiggy. Additionally, we SHOULD be able to determine DrummerBaby's gender by now,...

Yes. DrummerWife and I have decided to tackle the issue of her teency-weency Ford Escort. I mean, lets face it, a 2 door coupe just ain't gonna cut it when she's trying to pull a baby out of the back seat. So, she called a friend of ours who works for a local car dealership last night. We're sitting down with him on Monday to see what we can work out new vs. old and such. Frankly, I'm pulling for the '03 Chrysler 300M that's currently sitting on his lot. DrummerWife seems to believe we won't survive unless we purchase a Toyota Camry. I understand that the Camry is standard DrummerWifeFamily issue automobile, but we will make it purchasing another car. Unless the dealership gets their hands on a Subaru Outback between now and Monday. We can both agree on one of those...

With those simple words, DrummerWife brought me to hysterics last night as we climbed into bed. DrummerWife has a habit of dispensing golden nuggets of wisdom in the sleep-heavy state she occupies in between falling asleep on the couch and dragging herself upstairs to bed, and last night, she dropped a doozy on me. She laid down, pull the covers over her, threw our heavy winter blanket as far from her heat-radiating body as possible, and released those words on the world. Her eyes were half-closed, I suspect she was 75% asleep already, and when I started laughing, she realized something was up. She closed her eyes, rolled over, and said "That's going to end up in your blog, isn't it?" Yes, dear, it probably will.

Yeah. It's Valentine's Day. DrummerWife and I have never really been big on V-Day. We acknowledge it, accept that some people get insanely bent ou of shape over the ficticious holiday, but we don't really go all that nuts over it. A couple years back, the V-Day before we got married, I had a bouquet of roses delivered to her parent's house, and then a few years before that - back when we're a'courtin' - we went and had pictures taken for Valentine's Day. That's about it. No overly grand gestures or anything. This year is no different. We're exchanging cards - she already got hers, since I was the only one of us to remember to actually buy the card BEFORE the holiday ;) - and I'm picking up some fresh chocolate-covered strawberries today that we both ordered together a few days ago. Our excuse this year is that we're trying to conserve finances with DrummerBaby on the way and all. Anyway, I spent yesterday bombed out of my gourd from Tylen...

It's Friday, it's Nerd Night, there's 6-12" of snow on the way, and DrummerBoss is out of town for a few days. Things are looking up, up , UP! So yeah, another week has gone by. We're one week closer to DrummerBaby's arrival. And again, there's very little actual baby news to report. As such, and as requested by DrummerWife, I'm going to recount the amusing manner in which DrummerMom was informed as to DrummerBaby's existence: Shortly after DrummerWife and I learned that we were expecting, and before we decided to tell anyone, DrummerWife and I spent a few days emailing each other back and forth about whether we wanted to tell family, how we wanted to handle the housing issue, and other "HOLY CRAP WE'RE PREGNANT" topics. Well, I use Outlook Express here at DrummerPlaceofEmployment, and I had an email from both DrummerWife and DrummerMom in my inbox one afternoon. Since both of them work in the same office, and for the same company, the...

DrummerWife says she's feeling DrummerBaby "barrel-roll." And she's confident this time that it's not gas. Now I'm really jealous. I want to feel this thing move. But I can't. All because I don't have a uterus. Hardly seems fair to me. So, we're still trying to hammer out this "how long is DrummerWife going to stay home after DrummerBaby is born?" and "who is going to watch DrummerBaby while we're both at work?" There are just so many questions and situations that need to answered and prepared for when there's a baby on the way. And it's never going to end. This child-rearing thing better be as rewarding as everyone claims it is, or else I'm going to want my money back. :)

DrummerWife seems to have gotten some manner of control over her emotions once again. Which is fabulous. She's not getting sick anymore. Things just keep stabilizing. I really wish there was something to report, to talk about, but there really isn't. Things just continue to normalize. There's some other stuff going on, completely separate from DrummerBaby's continuing development, that is wearing on my entire family. And as much as that stuff sucks, it's just not as important to me as DrummerWife's and DrummerBaby's respective healths.

Well, I really don't know what to put here. Things have been good, lately. DrummerWife is feeling fine, DrummerBaby is just developing away in it's warm, cozy little womb, and all is right with the world. If you ignore the fact that radical muslims want to blow up Denmark over an editorial comic. But hey, Jerome Bettis beat the Seahawks last night, and we can all sleep well knowing that God's will was done. At least that's what we're all supposed to believe, according to the prophet John Madden. I think it was written somewhere in Mark: "And Lo! The LORD spoketh to his people through a jolly, confused fat man, and he did say, 'My people, a day will come where the Bus shall overcome all odds, and defeat the birds of the sea bluffs, bringing peace, joy, and understanding throughout all the lands, and it will be good, and if you disagree, you are a Communist and bound for the lowest levels of the nine Hells.'" Seriously, at least the Jerome Bettis wor...

DrummerWife is still crying. Randomly, not-so-randomly, here, there, and everywhere. Apparently, she believes that I think that she's a "pain-in-the-ass" and "unattractive." I thought this stuff didn't start until she was "big as a house" - or as DrummerWife puts it "as big as two beached whales?" I spend a lot of time talking to my wife and reassuring her that she's not a pain, that she's not unattractive, and that I do, in fact, still love her. Some day, I sincerely hope that she'll gain control over her emotions again. And not just for my sake, because I can tell that she's tired of being a loosely bound bundle of rampaging emotions. I think she'd like to be the old DrummerWife again. She's got a couple of months (if not longer) before that's a possibility though. Until then, I'll keep on apologizing and reassuring, I guess.