Wednesday, August 22, 2007

My Heir!

My young heir grows stronger each and every day. Soon, we shall rule as father and son.

Hopefully, I won't have to chop his hand off.

My son is so incredibly cute. Possibly the cutest baby ever. I realize every parent says that, but screw them. Let them get their own mildly popular, mildly funny blog.

I think he looks like me. He's got my eyes and my hair.

Possibly my nose.

Unfortunately, he's got his mother's vagina.

I'll give you a second.

Yes, we had a girl.

What exactly am I going to do with a girl? I don't have anything to teach a girl. What the hell do girls do anyway?

Also, and this is for the benefit of the guys in the audience, I had the doctor do a very thorough examination of Susan's uterus right after the baby came out.

We were right. Women don't come with a manual.

Honestly, I'm just at a loss. I can barely handle the woman I've got and now they're double teaming me.

It's a conspiracy, I tell ya.

Maybe... Maybe I can learn from this one. Maybe since I've been given a starter kit, I'll get some inside view into the mind of a woman, something that might help me understand them.

Or maybe I'll end up in a mental ward holding a Barbie doll and crying incessantly.

No, I'm over-reacting. Everything is going to be okay.



Dammit. I'm screwed.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


Seriously. One of you call the police. Right now.

I've been kidnapped.


Why aren't you dialing? Don't you believe me?

What have I ever done to make you think I can't be trusted?



The constant lying...

Fine, fine. I haven't been kidnapped.

Well... not exactly.

Susan had the baby.

You know, if I think REAL hard, I can remember what sleep was like. Getting to just lie down and not move for entire minutes.

Or even hours.

Man, that takes me back.

(Writer's note: Experienced parents no doubt found that last part very funny. People without children may have giggled. New parents are no doubt weeping uncontrollably.)

When last we met, Susan was on the verge of producing my heir. Things were good. We were both happy and were on top of the world with anticipation.

Just a few days later, Susan went into labor.

Think Dynamis is exciting? Imagine watching a gallon of liquid fall out of your loved one right in the middle of a pull.

That'll mess up your refresh cycle, let me tell ya.

So we rush to the hospital. And I mean rush. My tires might have touched the road once the whole trip.

We screech up to the emergency room and I dash in to find a wheelchair.

It then occurs to me that I should get one for Susan.

It then occurs to me that I should also get her out of the car.

She didn't find that part funny.


Anyway, I dash back into the hospital (with the pregnant lady this time) and start yelling for doctors. No, not asking. I was yelling.

I'm sure some dads can calmly walk into the hospital doing breathing techniques and soothing their partner.

Does that sound even remotely like me?

I grab the first person I see in scrubs and immediately demand that they help my wife.

It was then I was told that the janitorial staff are not allowed to deliver babies.

Eventually, a group of nurses managed to calm me down (read: threaten me with legal action) and made sure Susan was okay.

And thus began our arduous 20 hour ordeal some obviously insane people refer to as "the miracle of birth".

20 hours of watching a woman scream in pain and threaten to do severe damage to your most cherished body parts is not a miracle.

Unless you're into that sort of thing.

Now, I was right there with her. I was strong and supportive, and I made sure I was doing as much as I could.

That lasted about 2 hours.

Note to soon to be fathers: DO NOT under any circumstances suggest you could have finished that Dynamis run.

By hour 5, I was starting to wear out. I was still supportive, but in more of a "I'll sit over here where you can't hit me" kind of way.

I should also point out that we haven't seen a doctor up to this point. Nurses pretty much did it all.

As we neared the end and I thought I'd seen just about everything, the actual doctor showed up.

He seemed nice. A moderately tall, middle-aged man. Almost entirely ordinary.

That is if you ignored his massive hands.

Seriously, it looked like he was wearing baseball gloves. I didn't know if he was going to deliver the baby or just pick Susan up and squeeze the baby out.

Personally, the idea of someone putting hands that large anywhere near my junk frightens me. I assumed Susan would be equally frightened.

Apparently, 20 hours of someone trying to punch their way through your cervix can change your perspective on things. She started begging the man to just pull the child out of her.

The doc "felt around" and gave us the bad news.

C section.

For those of you who don't know what that is, thank whatever god you believe in. Close the window right now and go play a game and forget I ever mentioned a C section.

Okay, those of you still with me...

They took her into an operating room and had me get suited up in scrubs and hospital gear. Then they stuck me alone in a room for 15 minutes.

You know what's fun? Having the woman you love taken to some strange operating room and getting to spend 15 minutes not knowing what the hell is happening to her or your baby.

Tomorrow, I think I'm going to kick a doctor in the balls.

When they finally took me to the operating room, they had her laid out on a table with a blanket up so I couldn't see below her neck.

I have no idea what they were doing on the other side of that blanket and there wasn't enough money in the world to make me look. They could have been changing her spark plugs for all I knew.

In case you've never gone through this (and were still stupid enough to keep reading), this is the part where they cut the mother open and then yank the kid out through her stomach.

Imagine that scene from Alien except at the end, you get a bill.

This is a scary moment. They are literally elbow deep in a person you a quite fond of. Bad things could happen. I was scared out of my mind.

Also, everything in the room is making beeps and noises. Man, nothing calms you down in that situation like hearing a machine go Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop because it ran out of toner or something.

Finally, after a seeming eternity, I heard my baby cry. The doctors looked up, smiled, and told us everything was okay.

[GM]Dave>> See, Susan?
[GM]Dave>> That wasn't so bad.

You know, if I think REAL hard, I can remember what it was like to have testicles.