In the crowd at the fair

I grabbed a 30 second video clip from the KCCI (Channel 8, CBS-Des Moines) website in which you can see Dawn, Evan and I (along with our friends Heather and Seth) sitting in the audience watching the 5 p.m. news live from the Anderson Erickson Dairy Stage.

I'll be back soon.  I have a couple pretty good stories I want to share.

:X

I was told last week by Andy that two posts in one week from me would be unheard of.  I had every intention of being really lazy and just posting a link to Seth and Heather's garage sale blog update to let you know what we did last weekend without having to type more than a sentence, but I outdid my laziness and didn't even accomplish that.

So this week I give you my second post in as many weeks, and thanks to my action-packed weekend, it's slightly more than a sentence.  In fact, it's a legendary tale of sorts...a tale of streaks broken, strength lost, and weekends wasted.  It's a story of brilliant ideas backfiring and GI tracts giving up.  I call this one..."Food Poisoning."

Well, at least food poisoning is what Dawn and I assume the two of us got on Friday night.  Maybe we had a quick dose of a stomach flu, but the fact that we were both sick at the same exact time after eating the same exact thing and that Evan never showed any symptoms leads us to believe that it was something we ate.  Regardless, I'll jump right into things, divulging just enough to get my point across, but hopefully not enough to gross you out.  And let me preface everything by saying that Dawn was easily as ill as I was this weekend, but I will not tell you any of her personal details.  She's not really one to talk about things like that, so if she wants you to know, I'll let her do it herself.

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So Friday night, I asked Dawn, "What should we eat tonight?"  And for the first time since we've been married, I heard one of three things that I pray to hear in response to that question every single night (the other two being peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and hot dogs) -- she responded, "I think Chinese food sounds good."  My obvious response to this was the ignition key turning clockwise and a quick trip over to Hy-Vee for some Chinese Express (which, you should know, I do enjoy and have enjoyed upwards of 20 times to date).  I ordered the orange chicken with fried rice and crab rangoon, and Dawn ordered the vegetable chicken, fried rice and an egg roll.

CUT TO:

Aaron in fetal position on the bathroom floor pricing caskets.

Actually, while part of that sentence did actually happen later, I'll fill in some of the blanks leading up to that.  And I'll remind the reader that, going into last weekend I hadn't knowingly thrown up since second grade.

Dawn woke up at about 3:00 on Saturday morning, and flipped on the hallway light pretty hastily.  That means she was either looking for something in the hall closet, sleepwalking, or playing a cruel joke on me (because it wakes me up every time).  She returned some time later with the bathroom trash can.  At that point in time, I didn't understand why she had the trash, but didn't care much either.  I was more concerned with myself, and what I thought was extreme lower back pain, profuse sweating and a bit of a chill.  After an hour or so of tossing and turning, I headed to the guest room downstairs to lie on a different bed in a cooler room.  As I made my way past the bathroom downstairs I felt the sudden urge to stop.  But still half asleep, I passed off a pretty severe stomach cramp as back pain and just kept going to the bedroom.  There I tried lying on the bed first, then an hour later the floor, then an hour later the hallway floor (on freezing-cold tile), and then finally the bed again.  Nothing worked, but it didn't matter.  It was already 6:30 and Evan was blabbering up in his crib (he started standing in his crib this weekend, by the way).  It was time for him to eat.

While feeding Evan his morning oatmeal, I knew it was going to be a bad day.  I had no idea just how bad, but I could tell my stomach was not right.  But remember, I don't get stomach problems very often so I usually just chase discomfort away with more food.  So naturally, I ate a bowl of cereal and a few pieces of toast, a banana and some orange juice.  And, as always, I felt better and thought I had "pushed the baddies out of my tummy."  But not so fast.  About an hour later I started feeling really sick, at which time I headed to the bathroom and had a very unpleasant experience.  And while I thought at that time that I was going to vomit, I didn't.  This same thing happened at least 10 more times before 3 p.m., at which time I actually was lying in front of the toilet in the fetal position.  I was in so much pain that I repeatedly asked Dawn if I should stick my fingers down my throat and make myself throw up so I could feel better.  She kept advising against it.  But after an hour or so of extreme stomach cramps, it happened.  The 20+ year streak came to an end.  Just like that.  And it was violent.

Yet satisfying.

I actually felt really good afterward (relatively, I suppose).  And I was able to behave as if nothing was wrong for at least another hour, when I started making frequent trips to the bathroom again, though I never again felt like I could throw up.  This went on without rest until bedtime, at which time this extreme gas pain in my stomach started.  It was as if I was getting kicked in the stomach by someone and God stopped time just as the pain started...and then He forgot to start time again.  It resulted in a lot of tossing and turning and even some getting up and walking around, with a few periodic trips to the bathroom involved.  I managed probably five decent hours of sleep, and Sunday I was seemingly on the mend, as the bathroom visits became fewer and further between, and the pain went away slowly.  

Since then, I've just been weak and a little light-headed at times.  My shoulders hurt yesterday when I got up, and my back was sore when I went to bed last night.  I lost around six pounds from Friday night to this morning (two pounds of which was beard), and I don't have a lot of motivation to do much of anything.  And yesterday, I took my first ever sick day of work at any job I've ever had.  So that streak is at its end as well.  What a crazy weekend.  And to thank for it all I have Nathan, the area high school student who figured it would be fine to leave a pan of chicken out for nine hours due to the fact that there was a tiny little flame underneath it.

We've got some cache-ing up to do

Hello, pleased to meet you.  My name is Aaron.  I'm 35 years old and have a son about to start first grade.  I just dusted off my old MacBook (remember those?) and was able to find someone who actually still had a wireless internet connection.  I realize that this is an ancient technology and that no one will probably read this lest they are feeling a little "retro" like I am today, but I have this feeling the internet is making a comeback.  If 8-track cassettes and denim jeans can do it, than the internet sure can.  And I'll be ahead of the curve...

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No Dustin, it's not actually 2014.  I was making a joke about how long it's been since I last posted.  In actuality, it's been over seven months.  But I've got a kid now, so lay off.  Now, since we've established that it's been a while and you've all recovered from the initial shock of seeing new content on the page, I'm going to steal a trick out of Cork's book (which was actually a stolen trick in the first place) in order to make this post slightly easier to follow:

1.  Evan update

2.  Summer

3.  Detroit Tigers baseball

4.  Vacation ideas

1.  Evan update

Speaking of the aforementioned kid, his 31 weeks of breathing air have gone even faster for Dawn and I than the 42 during which he was breathing amniotic fluid.  He's seven months old, growing like a weed (a weed that now eats solid foods and seizes every opportunity to throw up or poop), and starting to crawl around (so far only backwards) and talk nonstop.  If you'd like to see photos, click here.  I update about five times as often as I update this blog.

2.  Summer

Since we didn't have a spring this year, I'll jump right to summer.  This one has been busier than most for me at work,which has helped put yard work and home projects on the shelf for the time being (thank goodness Dawn's dad came down to trim all my trees a few weeks ago).  The 500-year flood didn't do too much damage to us aside from putting kinks in travel plans here and there, and the extent of my home improvement/maintaining projects has been mowing the lawn and painting the kitchen.  Other than that, we've tried to do as much with Evan as possible, and he's had some fun at the Water Park of America, the Science Center of Iowa, a few movies, the Blank Park Zoo, and an Iowa Cubs baseball game.  

3.  Detroit Tigers baseball

Speaking of America's pastime, this season has been a roller coaster ride.  The Tigers started 0-7, then 2-10, then were 12 games under .500 on June 6.  Now they've recovered from some injuries and are finally at 49-49 with 64 games to go.  They're 6.5 games out of first place in the AL Central, and still have an outside chance at the playoffs, but I'm not holding my breath.  They haven't had a second half of the season in which they were better than .500 since the 90's.

4.  Vacation ideas

Dawn and I realized recently that we not only need to use up some vacation days at work, but we need to get away before there's snow on the ground.  So we started thinking of vacation scenarios that won't cost too terribly much and will be as Evan-friendly as possible.  Some of the ideas we're throwing around are Colorado, San Francisco, San Diego, Lake Michigan (Chicago/Grand Rapids/Lake Express Ferry/Milwaukee), Boston or Niagara Falls.  We need to narrow it down or come up with something else.  Anyone have any ideas/suggestions?

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I'm updating on my lunch break so I'll cut it short.  Maybe now I'll have something fresh to update in the next few days.  If not, I'll see you in December.

TODAY'S MIX

1.  ONE DAY LIKE THIS by Elbow

2.  QUEEN OF THE SURFACE STREETS by DeVotchKa

3.  DAYVAN COWBOY by Boards of Canada

4.  HOPE FOR THE HOPELESS by A Fine Frenzy

5.  JOE'S HEAD by Kings of Leon

6.  SIDEWAYS by Citizen Cope

7.  MISSED THE BOAT by Modest Mouse

8.  PULLED UP by Talking Heads

9.  DISILLUSION by Badly Drawn Boy

10.  ARE YOU ALRIGHT? by Lucinda Williams

"It Happened."

Many of you know that Dawn finally had our baby this past Friday night. His name is Evan Connor Siskow and he weighed in at 7 pounds, 8 ounces and measured 19.75 inches in length. He was born at 7:28 in the evening and is pretty much the most incredible little thing I've ever seen. You can keep tabs on him at the Flickr site we're updating, found here.

Some of you know that I tried to blog the entire time and post the updates in real time. The original post was titled "It's Happening," and was saving when the WiFi at the hospital crashed and never recovered. So my plan to be a super nerd during one of the greatest moments of my life backfired, but I was able to maintain nerd status by logging a text document that I would post at a later time. Well, that later time is now. It reads like a blog, from bottom to top, so it will be weird if you read it any other way. And keep in mind that I had no idea how long the night would get, so I didn't anticipate this being longer than the script for Peter Jackson's King Kong.

So here it is, the unedited version of what I was doing and thinking last Thursday and Friday when Evan was born.

---------------------------------------------

It's Happening.
At some point I'm going to have to stop updating this and greet my baby, but if you're keeping track at home, here's what's going on with Dawn and baby and I.

11:40 p.m.
We finally take him away to the nursery, although it's tough to let him out of our sight. He'll be back in a few hours to eat again, so it's time for bed.

9:00 p.m.
Dawn feeds the little man. He will have his first bath shortly, and then mommy and daddy will send him to the nursery so they can get some rest. There's time to get more acquainted tomorrow.

8:40 p.m.
I'm calling a few friends and family, but still holding the little guy. I'm enamored by him. Dawn will be breastfeeding shortly.

8:20 p.m.
I've been holding my son since shortly after his birth. I can't put him down. Dawn's BP is increasing and she should be able to breast feed soon and hold her baby.

7:40 p.m.
I get to carry my child back to our hospital room as they push Dawn down the hallway in her bed. Her blood pressure is low and she's shaking uncontrollably from the hormone changes and drugs. I can't take my eyes off my son.

7:32 p.m.
I cut the umbilical cord.

7:30 p.m.
Now I've become the OR photographer. I take a million photos -- the weigh-in (7 lbs. 8 oz, 19 3/4 inches), the washing off and APGAR scoring, putting on his wrist bands, etc. Dawn is having her placenta pushed out of her. They're really working her over and she's just lying there unphased, staring across the room at her baby.

7:28 p.m.
Our baby is born. Dr. Hoegh lifts him up and holds him over the sheet for Dawn to look at. He opens his eyes and stares at her and she cries. I want to take a photo but I'm completely frozen. I'm watching one of the most incredible introductions I've ever seen and can't lift the camera off my lap. I've always heard that the moment when a baby meets its mother is one of the most wonderful things you can witness. It's true.

7:26 p.m.
A baby cries. The anesthesiologist tells me it's okay to stand and peek over the sheet at my son. I stand up and I can see him. He's not at all what I expect -- he's way more wonderful than I could imagine and all I can see is his head. I start crying and they tell me to sit back down. Dawn looks at me and all I can do is nod and sob.

7:25 p.m.
Dawn is handling this like a champ and I can tell by the conversations that something is happening. Dawn feels like someone is standing on her chest; apparently that's the baby being pulled from her abdomen. It's getting real.

7:20 p.m.
Dawn is getting jostled around like crazy. Dr. S. is there to tell us when Dawn will be feeling pressure, etc. But then a strange thing happens -- he suddenly goes home for the night and his replacement comes in and introduces himself to me.

7:16 p.m.
I'm "called in" and directed to a pink stool right by Dawn's head. I have no idea what to expect and so I just start talking to her and encouraging her and running my hands softly on her face. There is a blue sheet between me and the doctors so I can't see what's going on, which adds to my crazy thoughts. I look to the side and see a scene out of a movie, as bloody rags are tossed into a silver pan on the floor. Cue Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" in my mind and my eyes start welling up with tears. I talk to Dawn, who is surprisingly alert, and it calms me.

7:05 p.m.
Dawn is wheeled into the operating room and I'm told to sit outside "until they call me." Now I'm worried. Every time a nurse walks through the swinging door I can see Dawn and the tears well up.

7:00 p.m.
We're going in for the C-section. Dad has to wear a white jump suit over his clothes, a hairnet, mask, and booties over his feet. Dad is also running on adrenaline and his mind is going a mile a minute.

6:40 p.m.
A mini-conference is held with Susan, Dr. Hoegh, Dawn and myself at the foot of Dawn's bed. They're pushing for a C-section. We're not exactly on board but are trusting their judgment. It would be a shame for all the work Dawn has done to seemingly go to waste.

6:30 p.m.
Susan returns and says she is advising we agree to a Cesarean section because of the fact that the baby's heart rate is at an alarmingly high level and Dawn's fever isn't decreasing. She is consulting Dr. Hoegh concerning her thoughts.

6:15 p.m.
Susan returns to check Dawn's cervix and finds that no progress has been made; she's still dilated to just over 3 cm. Susan seems worried, especially since Dawn is running a fever over 100 Fahrenheit and is not responding to antibiotics.

5:20 p.m.
Dad's hungry and ready for the stretch run. The hospital cafeteria provides a very mediocre piece of primavera pizza with wheat crust and a chocolate chocolate chip muffin.

5:15 p.m.
Dr. S. (anesthesiologist) just popped in again (I believe that's his third time since putting in the epidural), apparently doing his rounds.

5:10 p.m.
So much for a centimeter per hour, Dawn's still only dilated to three. She's also running a fever so they gave her some Tylenol. Susan put in a local uterine monitor to monitor the exact strength of the contractions (before now they were only able to monitor contraction length), so they can more accurately administer Pitocin. The silver lining to the fact that her cervix isn't any more dilated than two hours ago is that she isn't quite to four centimeters yet, which is some sort of "magic number" when it comes to cervix dilation. They continue to watch baby's heart rate closely.

3:05 p.m.
Susan came in (she's delivered two babies already today) and broke Dawn's water, which she indicated was somewhat difficult with baby now at 0 to +1 Stage (i.e., his head is ready to come out as soon as the cervix (which is now 100% effaced) is dilated to 10 cm. Susan said that Dawn is now moving at a centimeter per hour in terms of dilation, so at that rate it would be 10 p.m. before the pushing stage, which lasts anywhere from 1-3 hours. It's still uncertain whether or not our son's birthday will be December 14 or 15, but it will be one of the two.

2:40 p.m.
Ashley said Susan will be in shortly to try and break Dawn's water. I feel bad for Dawn, she needs some good rest, but they need to keep this thing moving because the baby needs to come out and Dawn probably wants him out of there ASAP now that she's at the hospital.

2:10 p.m.
Ashley and I helped Dawn move to her back because "baby is being particular and doesn't want you to lay on your [right] side." I'm just following orders and listening to the professionals. I looked at the monitors while we did this and saw that baby is now in "-1 Stage," which is better than his previous -2. Zero Stage is when baby's head is even with the cervix, so we could see some action soon. Especially if Susan comes back and breaks the water. I bet she's off delivering a few babies right now.

2:00 p.m.
Dawn sleeps while I sit here getting caught up on RELEVANT Magazine, which recently had its first two monthly issues ever, successfully putting me two months behind in keeping up with my reading. Ashley enters as I finish that sentence and moves Dawn's NST monitors around a little (they do this fairly often to be sure they're getting clear, accurate readings).

1:40 p.m.
Ashley checks Dawn's cervix and is able to stretch it to 2 cm in hopes that it will "get something started." There is talk of breaking Dawn's bag of water.

12:30 p.m.
Dawn is getting some much-needed rest. The contractions continue but she can sleep soundly through them now. Dad hits the lunch buffet.

12:06 p.m.
Dr. Superlongandweirdname comes in to administer the epidural. It's quite a procedure, and Dawn takes it like a champ.

11:45 a.m.
Ashley wheels in the epidural carts. Dawn is drifting in and out of sleep.

11:20 a.m.
Ashley provides some relief in the form of a second dose of Fentenol. Dawn will have to okay an epideral as her next form of pain relief, but Ashley suggests we do that instead of dose three of Fentenol (she explains that the third dose doesn't always combat the steeped contractions all that well).

11:10 a.m.
The first dose of Fentenol is wearing off and the contractions (thanks to the continuous increase in Pitocin doses) are getting worse. How do women do this without drugs? Dawn is really squirming.

10:35 a.m.
Dawn bursts to life with a cough and her eyes popping open. It makes me wonder for a second if she hadn't actually been breathing for the last 14 minutes. She takes bathroom break #50 and comes out complaining about the height of the toilet for the 50th time. Strange things complained about so far: Picture on the wall (five times), height of toilet (nine times), air handling system (three times). I love you, honey.

10:21 a.m.
She's out like a light. Mouth hanging open and everything. This is about the best thing that could happen to her right now. She's so tired and has a long day ahead.

10:20 a.m.
Okay, she seriously may be intoxicated. The verbal exchange we just had was about as bizarre as any conversation I've ever had. With a drunk person. On Fentenol.

10:15 a.m.
Dawn says she feels drunk. The Fentenol causes dizziness in the first few minutes of the drip. I'm looking at her right now and she seems relaxed for the first time since yesterday morning. Probably since she's drunk. On Fentenol.

10:10 a.m.
After upping the dose of Pitocin again, Dawn has had it. She's exhausted after being up virtually all night with contractions. Her contractions are now two minutes apart and have been for a while, and they are strong. Ashley administers Fentenol to take the edge off the contractions. This is a drug that can be given in advance of an epiderul (which is like the pain killer of all pain killers). With Fentenol, the peaks of the contractions are not as painful and it will help Dawn to loosen up (her neck and shoulders are tense).

9:50 a.m.
Ashley returns and Susan, our midwife, is back again. She is apparently delivering two other babies on the floor today (before Dawn), so she's fairly busy but should easily be freed up before our baby is ready (which makes us both realize how long the day ahead will be). She checks Dawn's cervix and she's still dilated at 1 cm and has a "good bloody show" (normally an oxymoron, but not in this case). She says Dawn is 90% effaced and the baby is engaged at -2. This means that his head is right there where it needs to be.

9:25 a.m.
Ashley's back and the contractions are getting nasty. She measures Dawn's temperature and finds her slight fever from the previous night has seemingly gone away thanks to our old friend Tylenol.

9:00 a.m.
Ashley arrives to administer the Pitocin and thus kick in the serious contractions. The dose is supposed to be increased every 20 minutes or so and will continue to increase the pain of the contractions with each dose.

8:00 a.m.
Our nurse Mandy has completed her shift after staying with us all night. Dr. Hoegh and nurse Ashley arrive to remove the Cervadil and check Dawn's cervix. She is now dilated for the first time to a whopping 1 cm. Dawn is free to take a Whirlpool bath and walk around as she's disconnected from the machines for at least an hour.

12:00 a.m. - 6:15 a.m. Friday Dec. 14
Contractions continue to ramp up and Dawn is having to practice breathing through them. The nurse returns what seems like every 15 minutes to check on her, and every few hours to check vital signs (the actual signs, not the album by Survivor). Daddy tries to sleep and gets 4-5 hours. Dawn gets very little sleep.

11:00 p.m.
We're lying together in the hospital bed watching videos on my iPod while Dawn starts to have cramping that leads to contractions. The Cervadil is officially working right in the middle of "Half Light" by Athlete.

9:30 p.m.
Answering a bunch of medical history questions and wondering if we're going to sleep through the night. We officially write the baby's first name on one of the forms. Middle name is still being debated.

9:15 p.m.
Dawn is started on Cervadil, which is a medication that will be administered for the next 12 hours to help induce dilation. Petocin will be administered in the morning.

8:30 p.m.
Dawn is hooked up to the NST again. This time in a cool bed with controls and a built-in TV remote.

8:00 p.m.
Arrival at Iowa Methodist Maternity Center. We won't see Cooper again until he's got a brother.

7:30 p.m.
A quick drive-thru at Fazoli's. Mommy needs fuel, but since they put mayo on her sandwich the only fuel eaten is breadsticks.

6:00 p.m.
Cooper gets little attention as bags are packed and adrenaline pumps.

4:30 p.m.
Back at Midwife Services, Susan recommends we induce as soon as possible because the placenta "ages" very quickly when a mother is overdue and the amniotic fluid situation is not going to improve. She says baby is very healthy now so we should get him out while he's not at any serious health risk. We ask, "How soon is 'soon?'" Her response: "Tonight at 8:00 I think you should go in." Jaws drop and stomachs turn.

4:10 p.m.
Ultrasound at Iowa Methodist. This is our second ultrasound and baby doesn't even fit on screen. What was originally supposed to be standard procedure turned out to return shocking news -- the test found that Dawn's amniotic fluid level is not in the preferred range and we were directed back to Susan at Midwife Services.

11:30 a.m.
Lunch at Manhattan Deli. It's Dawn's first time eating there but she doesn't eat the Ultimate Grinder, although it's Thursday, so it's "Grinder Day." My Grinder is superb. As usual.

11:00 a.m.
The NST test takes a while but the results look great, according to our midwife. The nurses seem relieved, which makes me wonder if they were more worried than they let on. Nonetheless, we're optimistic. Our midwife Susan recommends that we induce on December 19, which would be 42 weeks if you're following along. She also orders an ultrasound to be done ASAP (standard procedure). Turns out ASAP translates to 4:00 p.m. in medical terms, and 4:10 p.m. in Dawn and Aaron's poor punctuality terms.

10:00 a.m.
At Midwife Services, we find out Dawn is not dilated at all (huge bummer). The midwife recommends an NST (Non Stress Test) to see how baby's heart rate is doing and to monitor contractions and other uterine activity. The test is apparently administered because baby is only measuring 38 weeks, which is apparently a little small for someone at 41 weeks. This NST machine is the type of machine Dawn will be hooked to upon arrival to the delivery room. Except maybe not as old-school looking. It looks like a dentist's chair that Norman Rockwell would have probably worked into one of his paintings.

9:45 a.m.
Midwife appointment. Going in, we're expecting Dawn to be slightly dilated (since she's a week past due) but overall unsure what the day will bring. It is warm(er) today (high of 34 F) and the sun is shining for the first time in what seems like days. Ice is melting off the trees and icicles are dropping from stoplights, some of them coming incredibly close to our car as we pass beneath. The parking lots are slippery.

8:06 a.m. Thursday, Dec. 13
Aaron gets his second speeding ticket (first in Iowa). Doing 57 in a 45. Crappy start to the day.

Nursery. But no baby. Yet.

As promised, here are some photos of the nursery, enhanced by my wife's vision and my friend Ed's artistic abilities.

And by the way, no baby yet. Nearly a week after the due date. We go in tomorrow to schedule an induction date. Yes, we're getting antsy.

I'm Pregnant!

We went to Midwife Services for Dawn's checkup today....and....she's not dilated. At all. So no baby yet, and (as it would seem), no baby for a while, but that's fine. We'll wait as long as we need to for the little man. I just feel bad for Dawn. The good news from our midwife, however, is that the baby's head is right on the other side of her closed cervix, which is a position that some women have to work really hard to get to. So we're not complaining. He's in launch position.

I haven't updated in a while because I've been so busy at work and at home getting prepared for our son's arrival. In fact, the nursery is pretty much done and I'll try and take a photo and post it in the near future (aka, don't count on it). I got some requests for photos of Dawn, and while I don't have any recent ones (her stomach has gotten a LOT bigger the past few weeks), I have a photo with her in it from one of our classes (about a month ago). The proud young pregnant woman on the right is me. Or what I would look like if I was pregnant with an annoying heavy bag of sand and my skin was made of canvas.

Wearing the empathy belly was pretty cool, and I didn't know what to expect considering we had to sign a waiver before we could put it on. It weighed between 30-35 pounds, and of course, I acted really tough when I got it on. But it really wasn't that heavy at first, and as I got used to it, I was thinking "this really isn't that bad." Our instructor made us do some tasks such as pick something off the floor, sit down and stand up, walk up stairs, etc. These every day things were all much harder to do with the belly on.

Now I don't want anyone to think that I don't feel for my wife or other pregnant women because I didn't initially think the belly was that heavy. Because when I took it off, I realized exactly how heavy it was. I felt like I was about 100 pounds lighter, and there was no longer a steel ball pushing on my bladder and pressure on my chest. I was relieved. And I only wore it for 10 minutes or less. I couldn't imagine doing it every day. Maybe that's why pregnancy lasts so long, so the woman can slowly get used to the insane amounts of poundage she has to lug around each day.

The other thing I should note is that that belly only represents between 20 and 25 percent of my total body weight. Dawn's baby-filled belly weighs a little less than 40% of her total weight. If I were to wear an empathy belly that was 40% of my weight, it would have to weight like 72 pounds. That's right, 72 pounds! Are you kidding? It's stuff like that that makes me more and more proud of Dawn every day she's going through this.

I will either e-mail, call or post when the dude arrives. Keep Dawn in your prayers; she will be going through quite an ordeal in the coming days!

Baby Pictures!

As usual, I'm not keeping up with updating this blog daily like I had originally planned. On the bright side though, the nursery is almost finished and Dawn and I have gotten a few other big projects out of the way in the last few weeks. But the little guy is sneaking up on us. His due date is less than six weeks away, and in three weeks Dawn will have carried him "to term," and he could show up at any time.

To round out the week, I thought I'd share the only pictures we have of the little guy. When Dawn was 19 weeks along, we had an ultrasound done at Iowa Methodist Medical Center. Normally, you don't get to have an ultrasound unless the pregnancy is "irregular." I use that term for lack of a better one since there are a lot of reasons that an ultrasound would be performed. Examples would be when the mother has gestational diabetes or some other disorder, or a baby that is growing a little slower. Or in the situations of twins or triplets. Usually though, I think prenatal caregivers like to give the parents at least one ultrasound so they can look on their child. If the pregnancy is not in need of an additional ultrasound but you as parents would like one, I think you're entitled to one, it just wouldn't be covered by insurance. In our case, our midwife wrote down on the chart that Dawn was measuring "a little small," even though she was measuring about right on where she needed to be at 15 weeks. So we had an ultrasound. And we saw our son.

Seeing the ultrasound is pretty amazing. The images are very clear and in stunning black and white. But the coolest thing about them is that they can kind of see through different layers -- i.e. adjustable x-ray vision glasses or that gun they used in the movie Eraser. I was pretty amazed and think I was smiling the entire time we were in the room. Also, the whole time I was trying to figure out if it was a boy or a girl based on my judgment, because we were really anxious to find out what it was at that time. But throughout the entire procedure the little guy was lying in the wrong position and wouldn't roll over so we could see his stuff. Dawn had brought in some M&Ms and ate those because she'd heard that the sugar would get the baby moving. And he was actually moving a lot without the sugar rush, he just wouldn't show it off for us. So after a while (and after informing us that "sometimes you just don't get to find out because they won't turn the right way") they started pushing on Dawn's stomach and moving the bed up and down to get him to move. No dice. They took his head measurements and measured his arms, legs, etc., and came back to get a shot of his posterior and -- BOOYAH! -- there it was. But I still didn't know what I was looking for until they told us. The nurse was like, "Do you want to know what it is?" We replied in the affirmative and she showed us the photo at the left and said, "Well, this is his bottom, these are his thighs, and...well..."

I wasn't necessarily hoping for a boy over a girl, I just know that I want to have one of each some day. We don't know exactly how many kids we want to have (we'll see how much Dawn likes pushing the first one out), but we're thinking either two or three right now. We've also really considered adopting a child someday. Who knows. For now we're just worried about one little guy.

I'll sign off with a funny story about when we got in the room to have the ultrasound. The nurse told Dawn to lie down on the bed and asked her "What pregnancy is this for you?" and Dawn (thinking that she had asked something like "What week of pregnancy is this for you?") replied, "Um...nineteen." Hearing that response confused me a little but I just passed it off, thinking that I had heard the question wrong. The weird thing is that the nurse said, "Okay," and wrote it down. Moments later, Dawn said, "Wait. Did you ask how many weeks I am?" The nurse said no and Dawn replied, "Okay I misspoke, I'm 19 weeks along with our first child." And the nurse said, "Oh, okay. I was going to say, 'Wow you look pretty good to be on your 19th kid.'"

Uh...ya think? Not to mention young. Nineteen kids at age 28 would have to be some sort of record.

Happy Midwifery Week!

We just had another two-week pregnancy appointment with Midwife Services (that's how I know that October 7-13 was National Midwifery Week). The appointment went well once again -- Dawn is measuring right on track for being 32 1/2 weeks along, and our son's heart rate was in the low 130s to high 140s, which is right where we want it to be. Dawn's weight gain is consistent and right on track, and her blood pressure is excellent.

For those of you that are wondering, we chose to utilize the services of a midwife through Iowa Methodist Medical Center not only because we like the midwives that work there, but because we feel that the care is a little more personal. We have nothing against any other type of prenatal care, it's just nice to know that the midwives (who are all Registered Nurse-Midwives) are with you the entire labor up until delivery (whereas doctors might enter the room 15 minutes beforehand). It's comforting that the person delivering the baby is with you from the moment you arrive until the end (plus they're all women, which is more comfortable for Dawn).

The birth will still take place at the hospital in a birthing suite, and the midwives really emphasize the control you'll have when the birth takes place (they ask about things like roles, positions, medication, techniques, candles, music, relaxation measures, etc.). Sometimes a doctor can kind of make it his/her birth, because they like to do things the way they've always done things. Again, our choice is not because we have something against doctors. It's basically the same thing anyway. In fact, if there are complications in labor, the midwives bring in an on-call doctor.

So far, everything is going well! Please continue to have Dawn and baby in your thoughts and prayers.

Rubber Baby Bloggy Bumpers.

I guess it’s time for me to update my blog (everyone say it with Cork: “Finally!”), since a few noteworthy things have happened since my last post. Number one (and the only thing really worth mentioning for now), is that we found out Dawn is pregnant. In eight weeks, that is (give or take maybe a week or two, so it’s coming fast). Really fast considering we just found out we were pregnant three days ago.

Actually, we’ve known since April 4*. I had come home to meet Dawn for lunch and she called down from the bathroom for me to come upstairs. She was holding a pregnancy test so I didn’t even need to look at the ultra-confusing plus/minus/blue/pink/dots/smileyface to know what I’d skipped up the stairs for. It was a very exciting moment and the eight months have blown right by. Since finding out, we’ve done some garage-sale shopping, worked on many unfinished home projects, read baby books and taken childbirth classes.

I should let everyone know (who doesn’t already know) that we are having a boy, and he’s due on December 6. We have a first name picked out already and only one other person besides Dawn and myself know that name. Some people think they know it, but they don’t actually know and we don’t tell them they’re wrong. Which makes it even more fun to keep it a secret. We would probably have announced the name to everyone by now, but I keep worrying that someone with the same name is going to become the next world-renowned murderer or cult leader (all of you who named a child Orenthal James in early 1994 know what I’m talking about). So we’re going to hold out until the tiny dude comes out and let everyone know then. Middle names are open to suggestion.

Let me try and quickly break down how things have kind of gone down (from my perspective anyway) for the first eight months (also known for prospective fathers as the “what do I do?” months). Well basically, it’s super-exciting for a month or so because you’re not technically supposed to tell anyone since the pregnancy is not a guarantee. As you probably know, most miscarriages occur during the first 10 weeks of pregnancy, and an overwhelming majority occurs during the first trimester. So you kind of sit on this secret for a few weeks and it’s really hard not to tell anyone. When you finally are in the “safe zone” for telling people, it’s a lot of fun. But not telling people is hard, and it’s especially weird when your wife isn’t feeling good every time a couple wants to hang out or something. You’re kind of like, “Yeah, it’s some weird coincidence that she’s always sick when you want to hang out,” but you’re thinking, “Boy, we might as well just tell them. It’s pretty freaking obvious.” But Dawn wasn’t actually sick all that much. She had some dizzy spells and some nausea for a few weeks maybe, but not like I’ve heard some people have had. All in all, she’s handled this pregnancy better than I could ever have. She has hyper-sensitive senses of smell and taste and didn’t like the sight of raw meat for a while, but other than that she’s pretty much been the same as before she was pregnant aside from the ever-increasing belly size.

It’s probably the only time she’d ever not frown upon me talking about her weight gain, so I’ll let you know that she’s gained something like 28-30 pounds to this point and has not had any complications or red flags. Our midwife said from the beginning that based on Dawn’s Body Mass Index (BMI), that they would like her to gain 30-35 pounds. And it’s all in her stomach, so she’s starting to feel some lower back pain and has had trouble getting comfortable at night for some time now. Add that to the fact that she gets up every five minutes to use the bathroom, and she’s dealing with a lot less sleep than she had hoped (which is probably God’s way of preparing us for the day the little man is hollering from the other room).

[By this point, any woman reading this post who’s had a baby is probably thinking this is pretty boring, but it’s all new to people like us who haven’t been through it before so hang in there]

So you get past the first few months and then dad starts forgetting that mom is pregnant. I did anyway. That probably sounds horribly insensitive, so let me explain. I don’t mean that people were telling me “I heard your wife was pregnant” and I was responding “Really? Crap, that’s right. I forgot.” What I mean is that I didn’t think about it all the time like I did at first. When I thought about my wife during the day, I obviously remembered she was pregnant. But going through my daily routine at work and such, I wouldn’t think about it. Whereas I know Dawn knows that she’s pregnant every second of the day. So that’s kind of weird and it was a time where I tried to do little things for her to let her know that I remembered. But I didn’t do near enough of that. So to all you future fathers-to-be, I tell you right now to try and pamper your wife as much as possible (for the full pregnancy if you can, not just the times you see she’s in discomfort or stressed). It’s the least you can do for her hauling around your kid for you for so long.

It’s kind of crazy how Dawn’s energy level changed in that second trimester too. During trimester one, she had some nausea, a lot of anxiety and felt hungry a lot. In trimester two she ate normally for a while and started eating a little more as it went on, but she suddenly had a ton of energy again. She was seemingly back to normal and wanted to start working out and a bunch of other things. Now we’re in the third trimester and she’s a little sluggish basically because she’s at something like 130% of her old weight, and when she eats too much she’s in considerable pain so she has to be careful. And she pees a lot.

For the past month or so we’ve been able to really feel the baby from the outside. She’s been able to feel him from the inside for probably twice as long, but I can feel his head sometimes and see him pushing on her belly from inside and can feel it in the bed at night when he has the hiccups. So now it’s really getting real and new thoughts are starting to surface – anxiety, happiness, stress, and wonder (among others). But bottom-line, we’re so excited to have the little guy come into our life. He’s got his own room that his dad’s still working on completing, and he’s got about 50 new outfits to wear thanks to his grandmothers and Great-Grandma Betty, so he’s ready. And I think we’re ready too.

So now that we’re getting close, I keep telling myself that I’m going to start blogging a little more frequently with baby updates. Keep in mind that this is coming from the same guy who started a blog in the first place thinking that he would update more than twice a year. So check back and see if I’ve been following through with baby updates for the next few months. I’ll try to keep you all in the loop for once, since this is a major life event for us (and for you as our friends and family).

*Statement added for Dustin’s sake.

Hall of...Dirty Laundry?

Last night in the Orioles/Red Sox game with Curt Schilling on the mound, Orioles announcer Gary Thorne (easily my favorite hockey play-by-play guy of all-time, who also does O's baseball) mentioned that he had talked to BoSox backup backstop Doug Mirabelli about Schilling's bloody sock from the 2004 playoffs (when Schilling pitched following minor ankle surgery with blood on his clothes a la Roy Hobbs) and Mirabelli told him that it wasn't blood on the sock. According to Thorne (who, though I love him, often seems drunk during most games a la Harry Caray), Mirabelli said the red substance on the sock was "paint." Mirabelli has since denied telling Thorne that information, but nonetheless it started a little controversy about the authenticity of the gutsy pitching performance by Schilling a few years back.

Here's my take on it:

Who the heck cares? As far as I know, it's not illegal to put paint on your sock, and we know that Schilling had an ankle injury and had it worked on, so it's not like anyone questions that he was playing in at least a little pain. I'm really not going to lose sleep over this so-called "controversy" mainly because IT WAS ALMOST THREE YEARS AGO. Get over it, fellow baseball fans. The one thing I might lose sleep over however (now that "throw out anything week" has passed), is the fact that the sock in question is in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY.

Why is this again? Why do we put someone's not only dirty, but BLOODY sock in the Hall of Fame? This is a shrine to baseball we're talking about. There's a bloody sock in a glass case in the shrine? Am I supposed to get excited and tell my children "There it is kids, the famous Schilling sock," years down the road when we're there? I think my child would actually turn to me and ask, "Why on Earth is there a sock with someone's blood on it here?" He/she might even ask, "Did we actually pay money to come here and look at dirty laundry?" I've never been to Cooperstown, but when I go there do I need to be worried about turning a corner and seeing a puddle of someone's playoff vomit or chewed up sunflower seeds encased in shiny glass? Or do I have to worry about explaining to my wife why Carlton Fisk's protective cup is hanging next to a picture of him hitting his famous mid-70's dinger down the foul line?

Get serious, Major League Baseball. A bloody, dirty sock. Something associated in cartoons as being like the most awful-smelling thing in the world. Encased in glass. Covered in blood. And dirt. Taken from someone's sweaty foot.

Get serious.

"Throw out anything week."

Though I'm not the kind of person that requires a lot of sleep (I'm usually up at 5 a.m. every morning to work out or see how the Tigers did in their East-coast game that ended at 1:00 in the morning), I am the kind of person that loves sleep. I love naps and I love quality sleep, and I love the fact that I can fall asleep pretty much right away no matter where I am or what time of day it is (which Dawn hates). And now is the time of year when I love sleeping with the windows open. But at the same time, it drives me nuts.

For the record, I love it that Cooper sleeps in the same bed as Dawn and I. It's really funny when he's cold and needs to sleep between our heads or burrow in between us. Or when he's too hot and has to go to the end of the bed away from us or go downstairs for a drink and walk around. It's also cute when we're talking or watching T.V. and he can't get settled in and he keeps sighing and moving around all restless-like. No, I like having him in the bed at night. Except when the windows are open. And ESPECIALLY during "throw out anything week" in our neighborhood.

You know what I'm talking about -- when everyone (admit it, you've done it) is driving around looking at everyone else's trash and thinking, "Hey, couldn't we use another little end table? It's a little bit beat up, but we could put it in the spare room." It's a great time of year for a homeowner or someone with a lot of junk, because it not only gives you an excuse to clean, it also gives you an excuse to break your own stuff when you throw it out to the curb.

And it's funny how many people are out and about taking other people's trash during this week. It really is amazing. I told Dawn that I could probably make five functional gas grills if I went around taking every gas grill I saw on the curb. Maybe that's what people are thinking when they flock to the streets to burn up more money in fuel than that which they are saving by getting that piece of dryer duct from my junk pile (not necessarily creating an army of gas grills, but with that same mentality nonetheless), so perhaps I'm the one that's not taking advantage of this week by going out "junking," though I do have a lot of fun peeking out my window seeing what stuff people are taking from me...and then feeling a sense of regret for throwing it out because it apparently had a value higher than what I had designated as -- "garbage."

So I love "junk week." And I love sleep. I just don't love them at the same time this week. Because last night everyone and their kids were coming by in the middle of the night with their trucks and trailers and sifting through my trash. And Cooper was going crazy with the growling. At first it's kind of funny -- he's a 15-pound dog, growling from our bed in the dark, 50 feet from the curb and curled up in a ball. Least scary dog ever, growling to keep people out of my trash. Then it's just annoying as it happens over and over again and eventually - BARK! - scared to death...what is going on?..."Cooper, no!"...wife is tossing and turning..."What time is it?"...- BARK! - sitting upright..."What the?"...noises outside..."Cooper!"...snapping my fingers will shut him up... - BARK! - grab his nose..."No Cooper."...3:35???..."Have I slept?"...shoulder asleep..."Why am I sweaty?" - BARK! - loud noise outside..."Cooper!!!"

Yeah. It's like that. All night. Until 4:10 and I can't get back to sleep. So I get up and blog.

At least the Tigers won.

Life is Good.

I haven't posted in a while just to say, "things are good." So here you go. Life is good. Dawn and I are doing great, we learn more about one another every day, and our marriage does nothing but grow stronger. Further, she is helping other peoples' marriages gain strength at her new job. In case you didn't know, she is now a Donor Relations Specialist at America's Family Coaches, having started there late in March. She likes it, and continuously points out the value in knowing she's really helping people. I'm really proud of her.

Things in my life continue to fly by too quickly for me to appreciate. I'm still working at FBL Financial Group, enduring some of the major changes that have happened in the past few years (re-structuring, downsizing of video needs, Bo and Derek leaving). I don't know what the future has in store for me from an employment standpoint, all I know is that this is where I am and I need to work hard to keep working hard. I was recently asked to be part of Grand View College's adjunct faculty in Spring 2008, teaching ten weeks of a one-credit lab on non-linear video editing (more specifically, Apple's Final Cut Pro). Instructing is something I haven't done in a while, so hopefully I'm not too rusty. I did some guest lecturing at GVC this past year and that went very well and I was able to familiarize myself with some of the students, faculty members and equipment at the college. I'm looking forward to this little change of pace come January.

Since spring is here, I'm trying to stay committed to getting little projects done around the house that have been sitting stagnant for quite some time. That will make it a busy summer, but since there aren't a ton of weddings to attend like summers past, it should be a productive one.

Dawn and I joined a small group during the winter which has been a lot of fun. Everyone else in the group attends Prairie Ridge Church in Ankeny, a young church that's really into the small group scene. It's been a great way to get to know new people and discuss The Bible in a less "churchy" way with people with whom you can relate.

I've been doing a lot of "hanging out" lately with old and new friends, which has been cool. Andy and Aimee recently had a little house-warming/Guitar Hero II party, and I got to hang out with the two of them and Dustin and Cody again. That was a good time. I also went to Derek's on Friday for some bocce ball/grilling/sitting around the fire with other men. Met a couple of cool guys there and got to hang out with KJ again. Now this week, the Braytons will be in town from Pensacola and we'll get to hang with them a bit after a little end-of-week camping trip with five other friends.

So that's that. Lots of stuff going down, not enough time to sit back and evaluate how good life is. But it is.

Yikes.

I've been wanting to post about our Hawaii trip and talk about how incredibly awesome it was, but I've got some weird news that I thought I should post right away. First, there was a helicopter crash yesterday on the island of Kauai, on which we also took a helicopter tour. Sadly, four people died and three were left in critical condition. When I first read the article, I thought, "Weird. We were just on a helicopter tour on Kauai." Then I noticed that the company suffering the loss was HeliUSA, the company through which we toured...stationed at the same airport and helipad that we launched from. Hmm. Then I looked at the numbers on the helicopter that actually crashed and compared them to the helicopter we flew in.

It's the same 'copter.

Not to take away from those who lost their lives and family members yesterday, but this is one of the freakiest things that's happened to me.

Thirteen days ago we were sitting in the helicopter that crashed yesterday. This kind of thing doesn't happen every day -- apparently HeliUSA has flown over a million people around since their last crash. The odds of that being the same helicopter we were in are not that great, also considering how many helicopters are in the air at one time, touring that amazing island.

UPDATE: It wasn't the pilot we flew with, who was from Michigan. It was this guy. Though I don't know anyone involved, our thoughts and prayers are with the friends and families involved.

Tragedy? I think not.

I ate lunch with some guys from my church yesterday and they were complaining about how the Chiefs could have won the Wild Card game with the Colts this season and how much of a bummer that game was. I didn't tell them I was a Saints fan, but I wanted to direct them to this. Seriously. A guy dies during knee surgery two years after another guy dies from a neck injury sustained during a game? I'll take 100 NFC Championship losses before a blow like either of those...

What a year (so far)!

Holy crap, I can't believe how fortunate I've been this 2006-2007 season in terms of watching my favorite sports teams. First, the Tigers win the American League Championship. Next, the Saints earn a trip to Chicago to play for the NFC Championship (this weekend). Then the Suns rattle off 26 of 28 victories after starting 3-6 and are apparently on the brink of NBA greatness. Did I mention that the Devils are second in the NHL's Eastern Conference and 10 games ahead of the rest of their division?

Anyway, whatever happens to the Saints this weekend, it was a great year for them after going 3-13 last season. The most exciting thing for me right now is probably the future of this once-in-my-lifetime sports season, for aside from New Orleans being two wins away from a Super Bowl Championship, I have much to look forward from New Jersey, and to an even greater extent, the Phoenix Suns. I could never put that fact as well as Bill Simmons does here. Read the article and become a Suns fan before you have to jump on the bandwagon.

You're a Grand Old Tag

I wasn't planning on blogging until 2007 because I'm knee-deep in the Christmas Holiday right about now, but Andy's getting pretty antsy, and the weird-toothed supertasting blind man got so incredibly into the spirit of the "tag," so I thought I should follow suit...so here's five things you may not have known about me (although if you know me well enough to read my boring little blog, than you probably already do). Here's something to read, nonetheless:

1. I could read really well at an early age. I'm not exactly sure at what age and at what level (you'd have to ask my parents), but I'm pretty sure I was reading the newspaper pretty well at age four, since I was told by one of my former pre-school teachers that I used to read the paper to the class. We're probably not talking about flying through the business section at break-neck speed, but apparently I could comprehend words and sentences at an advanced level for my age because in Kindergarten I remember going to classes with struggling third- and fourth-graders to practice reading while my classmates were at recess. When I got into high school though, I hated reading. I rarely read anything that was assigned to me and NEVER read anything other than Sports Illustrated for recreation. Nowadays I read more than I ever have.

2. I had at least five concussions in my adolescent years. Four of these were sports-related (one from football, one from basketball and two from baseball), and at least two were semi-serious. The other that I know of came when I was chasing my younger brother around the house and he slammed the bathroom door on my noggin. The football injury came at Alden in a junior varsity game my sophomore year. I was playing outside linebacker and a guy tried to hurdle me as I tackled him and he nailed me in the melon with his knee. I don't remember the next 30 minutes or so of the game, including returning a kickoff to mid-field before I was removed from the game because I was wandering around like a guy with...well, a concussion. The first thing I remember after trying to tackle the guy is standing on the sideline, pads off, staring at the ground. Weird stuff. The basketball injury I actually have on videotape from my junior year, but it's debatable about whether or not I suffered a concussion. I went up for a shot and got undercut, flipping over backwards and landing on my neck. I was taken out of the game and my friend Collin shot my free throws, and the rest of the night is cloudy. I had a mild stomach ache but I remember most everything that happened. Having had a few concussions by this time in my life, I'm pretty sure that was one. The baseball ones were a little strange, and both resulted from sliding headfirst. The first was my freshman year. I was trying to score from second base and was running hard enough that my helmet came off rounding third. When I dove toward home plate, the ball actually hit me in the temple. I don't know if I touched home right away, but my mom says that for at least 45 seconds I was crawling around in the dirt trying to find the base even though it was right in front of my face. She came out onto the field with my coach and took me into the concession stand where she was working (she's a medical technician and wanted to monitor me). Apparently I asked her every 15 seconds whether or not I was safe and she kept repeating that I was. Don't remember it -- definite concussion. The fifth and last one is a pretty bizarre one that ends in me being taken off the diamond in an ambulance. I was diving headfirst into first base because it was a close play and I could see the throw was coming in high (some people ask why runners dive into first base, claiming it slows the runner down...my response is that while it may slow you down just a bit, I used to do it whenever there was a high throw to first, in case the first baseman jumped to catch the ball and tried to reach down and tag me). So I dive into first, this guy jumps, and kicks me right in the forehead. The strange thing is, I played like four more innings and even had a base hit and fielded some ground balls at shortstop. But I didn't talk to anyone. Then suddenly I started trying to bite one of my teammates and they called in the medical authorities. My mom (again) had been watching me and sensed something was wrong, so she was right on it and got me into an ambulance as soon as I became a cannibal in a baseball jersey.

3. I have only been sick one time in my life. And by sick I mean vomiting. And by vomiting I mean I'm not counting the three or four times (in college) where I threw up as a result of consuming too much alcohol. So much alcohol in fact, that I don't recall the actual feeling of vomiting at all. I'm not even sure I would know the warning signs. The only time I've thrown up from actual sickness or food poisoning was in second grade, and I barely remember it. I have a pretty tough stomach and have unknowingly eaten many rotten food items and never had any problems.

4. I once ate the Tremendous Twelve® at Perkins Restaurant in three minutes and forty-one seconds. What's the Tremendous Twelve®, you ask? Go here and scroll down. Many of you know I've accomplished this feat because it comes up a lot when people see me eating in public; I tend to finish my food by the time the rest of my party is placing their napkins in their lap. I'm getting better at conciously slowing down when eating, but sometimes I forget and I end up consuming a half-pound burger in just a few minutes (for those of you who'd have a frame of reference, I once ate a double-quarter pounder with cheese and a super-sized fry between the Welch Avenue McDonalds drive-thru and C.Y. Stephens Auditorium, and then topped it off with my super-size drink as I walked to the door of C.Y.).

If you'd like to try eating the Tremendous Twelve® in record time yourself, I'll let you in on my secret: The trick lies in how you order it. First of all, order it with sausage patties instead of bacon and order the eggs "over hard." This way you can essentially make a giant burger out of the pancakes, patties and eggs. Then you squish the "burger" down so you can get your mouth around it. It takes at least 40 seconds just to prepare your meal -- you have to douse everything in syrup, concentrating on the pancakes (the most dry part of the meal). Finally, order it "to go" so you get the styrofoam cases. These are easier to scoop food out of than a plate, which leads me to trick number two: Forget the silverware and go wild. You have to eat with your hands to do it fast (which is also why you need to get it to go; you look absolutely disgusting when doing it my way). I broke the record in the passenger seat of my friend Scott's Chevy Beretta. We used a stopwatch, and I got my meal free for doing it in under 4:00.

5. I have an incredibly small mouth. In high school, my orthodontist said a number of times when adjusting my braces that I have "the smallest adult mouth inside which he's ever worked" (for the record Sean, he didn't actually get inside of my mouth, but stuck his hands and ortho-tools inside it to "work"). The outside of my mouth looks fairly normal, but the inside is where it gets tiny. The roof of my mouth barely goes above the level of my upper front teeth, and I can't open very wide. I received a retainer after my braces were removed (which I still have and amazingly still fits) and when looking at it, you can get a true idea of how small my mouth is.

So there you have it. Five things about me. Now I'm gonna do some taggin':

Derek
Kelli
Joni
Rua
Adam

Voting is fun!

About six years ago I discovered a little activity that made Tuesday night TV more fun during the first week in November -- I voted! And then I followed suit every other year, culminating in last night's vote-fest, in which I wrote in and voted for my favorite sports players in every race (two years ago it was my favorite actors/actresses).

It really does help out with the evening TV watching, though. At least this way you can sit and watch the returns like it's a sporting event or something, instead of complaining about the return coverage hogging all the major networks (and having to ultimately subject yourself to something on the new CW). It's not like my vote has ever mattered (that's right -- it hasn't, unless you can point to one race in the last six years that was separated by one vote), but at least when I vote I feel "plugged in," and that "my voice is being heard" in a country that's so split down the middle on pretty much everything that it's ridiculous.

But as you know, Chet Culver will be the next governor of Iowa. Charles Barkley didn't even bring in 1% of the vote, so no one else must have voted for him (oh well, there's always 2008 -- Edward Norton for president). My favorite thing about Culver is his strong belief in renewable fuels; I think this state needs something for which our farmers can work, since United States farmers are not only underappreciated, but getting their butts kicked by other countries (namely Brazil) because of urban expansion and the decrease in young farmers. And if I were an advisor to Mr. Culver, I would say, "Governor-elect Culver, I believe in renewable fuels like you believe in renewable fuels. So now that you're governor, we need to put our state funding into science -- the science that will figure out how to change human perspiration into fuel...because YOU ARE THE SWEATIEST HUMAN BEING ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET."

Chet Culver. His sweat is good for Iowa.

Jostlin' Tebow

Yes, it's sweet that the Tigers are in the ALCS, and even sweeter that they beat the Yankees to get there, but I must refrain from celebrating until the end of their run, however they might finish. So in the meantime, instead of beaming about Saturday's ALDS game four, I'd like to mention a different game from Saturday -- the SEC matchup between SEC powerhouses LSU and Florida. Not because I'm a fan of either team (college programs that are perenially in the national spotlight annoy me), but because if you haven't seen the Gators play this year, you need to do so. Soon. For no other reason than to see Tim Tebow play. "Who's Tim Tebow?" you ask. "Are you serious?" I respond. Tim Tebow is a freakin' amazing true freshman quarterback that comes in to give potential Heisman candidate Chris Leak a breather and/or to gain about eight yards a pop by running over anyone in his way. The dude passed for nearly 10,000 yards in high school. He also ran for 63 TDs. That's in four years, y'all. He's awesome. He never takes a dive before getting hit like so many quarterbacks not named Duante or Vick. He goes berzerk anytime he makes a decent play, and his first NCAA touchdown pass was a jump pass (which probably hasn't happened in the last 40 years). He's fun to watch, so start watching Florida play because you're going to be hearing his name for the next four years (especially after Leak graduates and he gets the starting job for the next three). You might as well start following a legendary journey now. Just to whet your pallete, I'll throw the obligitory YouTube links at ya. Enjoy:

Tebow vs. Kentucky

Tebow vs. LSU

Man, I hate the Yankees.

It's getting down to it in baseball's 2006 season, and for once -- for the first time since I was eight years old in fact -- the Tigers are IN. And just like the last time they made the 'yoffs, their nemesis is the Minnesota Twins. The two teams are battling it out for the American League Central Division title right now and it's anybody's trophy. But does it really matter? I don't think so. The Yankees are just too good. It's not pessimism on my part, it's realism. I don't think any team has the pitching to beat them. Their hitters are too selective and too smart. The Twins maybe could have beaten them in a five-game series with Liriano and Radke healthy, but not anymore. The Tigers could have beaten them in a short series back in June, but not now. New York is too hot right now. And I hate them.

I don't hate them because they're good, and I don't hate them because everyone and their dog seems to like the Yankees including our church pastor. I don't hate them because they're a "love 'em or hate 'em" team and I have to hate them by default since my love is obviously for Detroit baseball, and I don't hate them because they have such a rich tradition with like 3 billion World Series titles and I want someone else to have a chance. No, I hate them because they BUY all their talent. Granted, this is why many people tend to dislike the Yankees -- the fact that it's such a business with them, and they operate in a "he who dies with the most toys wins" environment that hangs like an irreversible dark cloud over the head of professional baseball...but does anyone know EXACTLY how bad it really is?

Here's how bad: The Yankees' team payroll is $198,662,180. Next in line is Boston, at $120,100,524. Allow me to do the math -- New York's team payroll is $68,561,656 more than the second-highest paid team in baseball -- nearly the same amount as the entire payroll of the San Diego Padres ($68,897,179 - 17th overall). Which team is paid the least, you ask? The Florida Marlins make $14,344,500 as a team. Five Yankee players make more than that amount.

Alex Rodriguez (NYY) makes $25,680,727 a year, making him the highest paid baseball player in the majors. Guess what -- he makes almost double what the Marlins entire team makes. The Yanks have 22 players on their roster that make a $1 million or more. The Marlins have two. The funny thing is that the Marlins have the same amount of World Series titles (2) since 1997 that New York does in that time, and the Marlins have the lone no-hitter in the last three years, thrown by Anibal Sanchez, a guy that's pretty much making the league minimum. The Yankees have nine pitchers that make over $1M (three that make over $10M), yet their best pitcher this season is making $353,175.

Is it necessary to pay these jerks this much? Obviously big payrolls don't necessarily mean titles. They just mean a lot of attention and the support of most of the city of New York, which for some is important I guess. If the Yankees win it all this season (and I predict they will), the only thing that will happen is player salaries will go up. So while I'm cheering for the Tigers in this year's postseason, I won't be nearly as depressed if they lose as I will be if my prediction comes true. Not just because the championship will belong to a bunch of greedy, pinstriped meatheads, but because America will continue to feed the monster that is professional sports by attending the jacked-up playoff games.

Now where are my Twins-Tigers ALCS tickets????? I'll pay anything!

Dog Brain.

I was eating lunch at home this week, I had just made a sandwich and stood at the counter to eat, listening to my iPod. When I looked over at a box of dog biscuits my mind started to wander...

The box reads, "Hy-Vee Snack Biscuits...for dogs." Then in smaller type it says, "Chicken, beef, bacon, vegetable and peanut butter snack biscuits." On the box is a picture of a cocker spaniel looking like he would do anything for one of these treats. He is surrounded by "actual size" images of the bone-shaped biscuits.

So do we really need to mention on this box that they're "for dogs?" Are humans really this stupid? Does Hy-Vee think that anyone in their right mind would:
1. Have a craving for a chicken- or beef-flavored snack? I mean, it's obviously not jerky. It's in a box that (if it were intended for humans) is about the size of your standard Cheez-It or Wheat Thins box and would probably be in the same aisle. Would people really think this was a potentially delicious snack?
2. Actually buy something to eat adorned with the image of a live dog? Not a cartoon dog mind you, which COULD confuse kids or really dumb college students (if it were cheap enough). I could see it being mistaken for cereal if there were a cartoon dog on the front, but then again you get into the "chicken, beef, bacon, vegetable" flavorings that are not fit for pouring milk on at 8 a.m.
3. Be tempted by bone-shaped food labeled "biscuits?" Anyone who's ever bought anything knows that if there's a picture of a real dog on the package and the food is shaped like BONES, IT'S FOR DOGS. Even if you can't read, you know what's in this box is for Fido and not you.

Regardless, I tried one. It was awfully salty.