Wednesday, September 14, 2011

September 14th

Breastfeeding in public, in spite of being legal, well, pretty much everywhere, is still a very controversial subject.  Breasts, while a truly unending source of fun and enjoyment for men, lesbians and bisexual women everywhere, exist primarily for one purpose: as a source of nutrition for the Gerber Generation until they can start chowing on pureed carrots and little baby Snausages from a jar.  Even though this highly common knowledge is encoded in the human brain at birth, western society has so skewed humanity's view of the female body that everything attached to a woman has been sexualized and most likely immortalized on some unknown-to-the-masses fetish website.

I understand why some people have a problem with public breastfeeding.  Society is so incredibly boob-centric that the sight of Janet Jackson's Super Bowl nipple caused an apocalyptic reaction.  Old bitties nationwide had a simultaneous stroke when it happened and then had heart attacks recounting the story when they inevitably called to report it to the Federal Communications Commission (a.k.a., old bitties' bitch).  Breastfeeding is a normal, natural function of a certain part of the female anatomy.  Anyone who has body issues or trouble with this concept has their own issues to deal with and I'm not about to have my daughter suffer for other people's ignorance and stupidity.  Will we use a cover?  Yes, when it's comfortable for both Susana and Darcy.  However, this is Florida and "comfortable" generally only happens on a Wednesday in March sometime between the hours of 2:00 and 2:15 PM.

My plan: print up business cards explaining the state of Florida's take on public breastfeeding ("it's a-ok with us!"); carrying a breastfeeding cover to be used when weather permits; and when weather does not permit, taking into account their objection due to the sexual objectification of boobs, screaming at the top of my lungs "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING LOOKING AT MY WIFE'S BOOBS, YOU FUCKING PERVERT??" (no, we're not married -- semantics, people) and belittling their closet peeper ways in front of what I hope is a very large crowd.  If you see a breast and think sex or dirty nudity that is your problem not ours.  My daughter is hungry -- fucking cope, bitch!

I have only one request for Santa for that scenario -- PLEASE let it be some old bitty!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

September 13th

Being sick sucks.  It just does.  Now imagine being the daddy-to-be and being sick.  Before the pregnancy you were just a annoying whiner on your death bed for her to contend with.  Now you're a ticking time bomb because if you make mommy-to-be sick, well, she's SOL because she can't take anything.  You, at least, have options: Dayquil; Robitussen; Seppuku, the Samurai suicide ritual.

Keeping mommy-to-be germ-free is also an act of self-preservation.  Think about the mood roller coaster and physical well-being of the average pregnant woman.  Now add a runny nose, coughing, fever, chest congestion and watery eyes with no road for relief for her or you and what you have is Stephen King's next novel and you're the first one eaten by the giant bug or demon or whatever the hell he writes about nowadays.  She will be miserable.  You will be miserable by proxy for making her sick in the first place, plus you knocked her up so she might be holding that against you at this point as well.   It's a doomsday scenario you don't want to have to plan for, but in the event it does happen keep these few rules in mind:

1. Keep your oozing, runny, snot locker under control.  Besides being the most common way to spread whatever biological weapon you're carrying, if your lovely pregnant lady is nauseous you're likely going to cause her to lose her lunch every time you trigger the chemical reaction that changes a Kleenex from a solid to a liquid.

2. Don't kiss her.  I know this is a hard one from experience, but if you kiss her when you're sick you will have set in motion a series of events that will scar you for the rest of your life.

3. Hand sanitizer gel: learn to love it.  Keeping your own lethality under control is much easier and more desirable than her spraying Lysol in your germy little face twelve times a day.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

September 2nd

When you reach my age, 25 (keep your looks to yourself; I can lie to myself if I want to), you start thinking about your legacy.  How will you be remembered?  For the last decade or so I figured I would be that funny guy whose many friends would come to his funeral and reminisce about all the stupid and funny shit he did over the years.  Then I met Susana (cue "Awwwwwwww").  Finding your soul mate is a wonderful thing.

My legacy then changed to (I hope) include good boyfriend/partner/significant other/husband/whatever-they're-just-words and hopefully at least 50 years at Susana's side.  
And then ...

They say things change when you have a baby.  I have no doubts they will.  They already have.  Questions creep into your mind like "will I be a good father," "what will she look like," "will she like me" and "will I ever get to sleep again?"  Every thought, idea or plan starts with the question "what about the baby?"

Over time (and at 9-1/2 months there is a painful amount of time), thoughts about your legacy begin to change.  Sure, I'll still be the funny guy whose friends laugh at his funeral.  Wait, I don't like that.  The funny guy whose friends reminisce about him and laugh (much better), but your legacy changes with a baby.  Everything you are, everything you were, everything you will be with the time you have remaining is wrapped in that 10-pound wrapper.  Seeing Susana's eyes, let’s make that a 6-pound, 4-ounce wrapper.

She will be my legacy, my gift to the world.  I am still the funny guy blessed with lots of friends and am different things to all of them, but sometime in January that will change because to Darcy Madison Post I will just be daddy.

Monday, August 22, 2011

August 22

It is a proven fact (and by proven fact I mean it's my opinion so stop arguing with me and accept that I'm right), humans take too damn long to cook.  I mean, 9-1/2 months?  Really?  There are life saving medical advancements that didn't take this long to concoct.  The Great Wall of China is 5,500 miles long and took 15 years to build.  That means in the time it takes to bake a baby they built 290 miles of fuck-you-Mongols wall.

Is there's nothing we can do to make this process go any faster?  Spike her orange juice with some Miracle Gro?  Drive past a nuclear power plant a few dozen times?  Spray a water-peroxide mixture on her leaves (wait, nevermind that wouldn't work)?  I need to kick-start this process pronto.  I'm not the most patient person in the world.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

July 30

Proving that she's daddy's girl, we're getting a prone body with the back turned.  As for the sex, well, the daddy's girl part was probably a giveaway.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

July 28th

Crib bedding is so expensive.  Can't we just throw a blanket in a box?  It works for kittens.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

July 26th

To Do List: Driving to the Hospital

Pack and load suitcase
Take Bailey out to pee
Lockup cats
Take three Xanax
Eat Doritos to combat nausea from taking three Xanax
Walk Susana to the car
Walk Susana back to the house to verify offness of stove
Walk Susana to the car
Walk Susana back to the house to grab forgotten car keys
Walk Susana to the car
Run back to the front door to lock front door
Fix driver's seat Susana invariably changed from driving last
Put car in gear
Get out of car to check for damage from putting car in gear before starting engine
Get back in car
Start car
Drive to hospital
Leave to drive to correct hospital
Drive to hospital
Park car
Take Susana inside hospital
Run back outside to prove to Susana car doors are locked
Quietly lock car doors
Run back into hospital
Follow "To Do List: Labor" protocol

To be continued ....