2006-08-24 - 11:10 p.m.

EXCITING BABY NEWS

Hey, guess what? I have exciting baby news! Hmm, you know, I'm guessing you had probably figured that out already from the title of this post. Well, anyway. Are you ready for it? I haven't told anyone about this! I am announcing it to the world for the first time right here on my Lovely Purple Diary!

Here it is. I... yes, me, Jake... am going to be...

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Waaaaait for it...

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An uncle! Yes, that's right. My sister-in-law, the sister of my sweetums, the person of whom I once wrote here "I cannot see her actually being in charge of another human life", is, at this very moment, in a family way. Did you think it was exciting baby news about me and Charity? I'm sorry. Well, I suppose I kinda led you into thinking that, so I guess I'm not really all that sorry. But I hope you'll forgive me.

What are the odds of that even happening, though? That shortly after I post an update about my own potential baby situation, I have actual baby news to report? How many times in the whole history of this blog have I talked about babies? Maybe two or three times? Now it's like all babies all the time over here.

Back to the baby itself, I get the impression this wasn't what you'd call a planned event, but it has happened nevertheless. It's pretty great, I must say. All the baby pressure on Charity and I from her family, by far the largest and more vocal of our two families, will now vanish right into thin air. This will put a baby out of Charity's mind for at least a year. If, for no other reason, because she'll want all the attention for herself when she's pregnant. That's not true at all, what an awful thing to say.

Actually, that whole paragraph is awful. I don't mean to imply that I'm happy we won't have to worry about a baby of our own for a while. I like babies! I used to live with one, did I ever tell that story? Maybe I should tell it. Anyway, though, who's to say we don't have to worry about one of our own? As I discussed last time, we're flying without a net over here. You never know. But it'll be nice to have it happen when there's no pressure, that's what I'm trying to get at.

It's not ALL good news, though. We were going to take a vacation at the beginning of October, but now we're pushing it back to next spring so that we can go see the baby once it's born. Her sister lives in Massachusetts, which was not exactly our original destination. I was kinda looking forward to going in just over a month, but hey, at least now I won't be vacationing during football season. I missed the first few games of the 2004 season because we were still on our honeymoon. Kansas City started 0-3 that year, all 3 losses taking place while I was out of the country. Coincidence? I think not.

And on the bright side, I can totally go to WWE MONDAY NIGHT RAW in Topkea and WWE SMACKDOWN (and ECW!) in Wichita in October, which I could not if we were vacationing. I don't yet know if I'm going to go, but I *could*. And that's all that matters.

Anyway, back to the baby again, Charity is so excited. You'd think the baby was gonna be for her or something. She truly adores babies. I think that's probably 'cause she's always wanted to have one. Which, coupled with some of what I've already written, probably makes me sound like a jerk. You could be thinking "hey jerk, so why not have one then, ya JERK". Hey, we're getting there.

But just as an example of how she's always wanted a baby, one of many such examples, I can remember when we were 6 or so we both went to this day care place by our school. The place had an area made up like a kitchen where you could go play house and whatnot. Some kids pretended to cook meals on the fake stove, and others had tea parties at the table, and some decapitated the dolls and put their heads in the freezer. You know, the usual.

Charity would always get out one of the dolls they had so she could be a mommy. She'd feed the baby, change it, put it to sleep. And on the rare occasions when she'd talk me into playing in there with her, we didn't play mommy and daddy for the baby like the other kids did. Oh, no. Not when she had a real living person she could take care of instead of a stupid doll. I had to play the baby. I may have only been 6, but wearing a bib and getting burped was still quite an affront to my manhood, let me tell you.

Then when she was around 10, I think, her little brother was born, so she had a real-life baby in her house to help take care of. She's always been so great with him. She's almost like his second mom. I remember this one time, speaking of babies (and their creation), when Charity and I took the day off and drove home from college for some reason. This was shortly after we'd started living together. Her brother had stayed home sick that day, he was about 11 at the time. So he and I were playing a video game together, and Charity came in and sat down to watch. And right out of the clear blue sky he started grilling us about living together, and he goes "are you two having SEX?!?" in this... I don't know how to describe it. This really accusatory tone of voice, I guess you'd say. Like if we were, and I'm not admitting anything, then we were committing some horrible injustice against him personally.

And I was like "uhhhhh" and didn't know what the heck to say. And she was just so cool and relaxed, and said something like "that's a very grown-up question, is there a reason why you're asking that?". And he'd been in the middle of the health/sex lesson you get at school around that age. And she went on about how that's something you do with a person you love and that she and I loved each other very much... although she never actually answered his question, which I thought was quite smooth and clever. But she couldn't possibly have handled that any better. I remember being really impressed by that.

I don't know if there was really a point to that story, but on the subject of staying home sick, here's another story I just thought of. I think it was right towards the end of our junior year of high school that this happened. I woke up one morning and didn't feel too good, and I didn't make it downstairs until 7:50 or so (8:20 being when school started). I think my mom had to be in court that day, and she was running all around making sure she had everything she needed before she left. I told her I didn't feel good and she was like "Oh? Well, stay home, I gotta go" and ran out the door.

Now 95% of the time when I told her I wasn't feeling good, I was lying. So her "okay, stay home, bye" reaction was exactly what I'd have wanted on those occasions. But this was one of the rare 5% when I was actually telling the truth. So I was kinda hoping for some motherly sympathy and pampering, you know what I mean? Her leaving might not be the worst case of parental neglect ever recorded, but it's gotta be right up there, I think.

Before I continue, let me lay this on you. When Charity and I were freshman, our high school started what they called a "block schedule". I don't know how common that is in the world, so I'll explain. Instead of having 7-8 classes in a day, as is the traditional way, we only had 4. But the classes were longer. They'd split it up by colors, so let's say one day was the "Red" day. You'd have 4 classes on the Red day, with lunch on both days coming during class #3. Then on the next day, we'll call it the "Blue" day, you'd have 3 classes and then a combo homeroom/study hall kind of a thing.

They called that last class a "seminar" period for reasons that escape me. You'd start off in this assigned homeroom, but then you could go around the school to other rooms, like if you needed help from your math teacher or something like that. Basically, it gave you like an hour and a half to get your homework done, so you didn't actually have to do any at home.

Anyway. Charity and I usually went to school together, and we alternated the driving depending on which day of the schedule it was. Like I'd pick her up on a Red day and she'd pick me up on a Blue day. Back to the story now, it was her day to pick me up. But I had gotten downstairs so late that I never had a chance to call her and tell her I was sick. So shortly after my mom left, Charity came in thinking that we'd shortly be on our way.

I told her I wasn't feeling good, and boom, right away, her hand flew to my forehead. My mom hadn't done that. I don't mean for this to paint my mom in a negative light, because she's actually a pretty good mom as far as mom's go. I just mean to highlight Charity's natural maternal instincts and they seem even stronger in contrast to my actual mother in this case. To wit, after checking my forehead, she pulled my head to her cheek for the more scientific forehead-to-cheek fever test.

Then she insisted I go lay down on the couch while she went digging around for cold pills or advil or whatever was best needed to soothe my particular ailments. And then, after giving me some pills and tucking me in on the couch with a blanket, she left for school.

But the tale doesn't stop there, oh no. This was the seminar period day of our block schedule, meaning we only had three classes. But one of Charity's three classes was as a teacher assistant, where you help grade papers or something and there's no actual classwork. And another was a gym type class called Conditioning, which was basically like a "do whatever you want" workout type of class in the gym, where Charity would just do non-stop situps to work on the six pack she's had since we were 12. So, really, she only had one class.

I had two classes and then I worked in the school's attendance office for my third. And my first class of the day was also Charity's one class that she had. We were both in that same class, in other words. Still with me?

So, knowing she only had the one class, Charity went to school, went to that first class that we had together, and got the work from the teacher. Then she went to my other class and told the teacher I was sick and found out what our assignment would be.

After that, she went to the attendance office and, before school even started, signed herself out for the day. You're supposed to be 18 before you can sign yourself out, rather than having a parent call in to excuse you. But at that point Charity was just a few weeks shy of her birthday anyway. And the secretaries in the office loved her, so there was no problem. You were only supposed to sign yourself out 10 times in the entire school year, but since I worked in the office, I must have done it at least 40 times my senior year. That's probably a conservative estimate.

Anyway, then Charity went back to her house and made some chicken soup. I didn't know any of this was going on, of course. I was just laying on the couch, debating on whether I should go to sleep right then or wait until after The Price Is Right comes on. There's really nothing to watch between 8 and 9 in the morning. At least at 9 you get Regis or paternity tests on Maury Povich or something before Price is Right at 10.

So I was probably starting to nod off when, around 9, Charity came back over with the soup and with the work she'd gotten from school. And she took the whole day off, just to be there and take care of me while I was sick. She didn't leave until my mom got home that night.

I like that story. Charity doesn't see it as an example of her mothering instincts, though, she sees it as a "taking care of the person who you love and want to spend the rest of your life with" sort of thing. But I didn't know she felt that way back then, so I've always looked at it from the mothering angle. And regardless of her feelings, it really was quite a job of mommying on her part. I always try to live up to that when she's sick. I've stayed home to take care of her and stuff, and I know I don't do it as well as she does, but she seems to appreciate it.

Say, this has been a pretty long update. I guess... say, wait, I said I'd tell that story about when I lived with a baby. I am a man of my word. So, okay. During my sophomore year while I lived in a house that was stuffed to the gills with females, one of them had a baby. His name was Mikey. I didn't have to feed him or take care of him or anything, so my opinion may vary from those who did, but it was nice having a baby around. They create a pleasant atmosphere, I find.

We got to be pals, too. I'll never forget the day I walked in and he said my name. He actually said "Jack", but I knew what he meant. He was just a baby, I cut him some slack. I suppose if I had to find a negative about having a baby around, other than the occasional fits of crying and the poopy diapers and all that, I'd say the worst part was the constant nursing that was going on. I'd walk into a room and there he'd be, sucking away on a boob. Always with the boob sucking, that kid.

I'm nothing if not a gentleman, and I don't really want to see that whole process going on anyway, so naturally I'd always turn my eyes to avoid looking. I must have spent 3-4 months not watching where I was going as I walked in and out of rooms. Finally, it all came to a head one day in the kitchen when said roommate was nursing the baby and asked me to hand her something, which I did with my back turned to her. Then she finished up with the baby, said my name to get my attention, and lifted her shirt and flashed me. Actually, "flashed" would suggest that it was over quickly. She left 'em out there for a good little while. It was just... wrong. In so many ways. But the point was for me to start acting normal, which I did from that moment forward. But the scarring and mental anguish from the situation remains today.

Charity and I started living together shortly thereafter, and Mikey would come over to see us. Well, his mom would take him to see us. He wasn't leaving the house on his own or anything. By then he was about a year old, not quite a baby anymore, but Charity would just light up whenever he was around. She'd still have a smile on her face an hour after he left. We took care of him a few times over various weekends, it was fun.

So I guess that's all I have to say. WAIT, no, I’m sorry. It was recently brought to my attention that I don't talk enough about Charity in this blog, in terms of what she's doing now and how she spends her days and that kind of thing. So I promised I would update the world, or at least the one person who wanted to know, on her many activities.

She was working as a substitute teacher last year, and she liked that very much. Speaking of teaching, and harking back to my block schedule tale, get THIS. Did you know that kids around here have to be at school at 7AM now? Seven! Like I mentioned before, in my day it was 8:20. And I thought that was too early. 7 is just for middle and high school, they go 7:00-2:45. The elementary school kids go like 8:00-3:45. That's madness!

Anyway, I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but Charity's had a summer job at the Y for several years now teaching aerobics to middle-aged, obese housewives. And she teaches gymnastics and swimming lessons for little kids during the summer, too. But back when she started her summer aerobics classes, they asked if she'd want to start doing it year-round. It's just a part-time job, but she likes it, and she's very big into keeping fit and she likes to help other people be fit. So whereas normally she'd be done with it right around this time of year, she's going to start doing them all the time now.

That means she can't be a substitute anymore, but this is what she's chosen. I kinda like being able to say that my wife is an aerobics instructor. It's one of those jobs that kinda implies that the person is attractive, you know? There's not a lot of chubby, unattractive aerobics instructors, at least not that I know of. You hear that job and you picture a hot babe in form-fitting spandex. Now when I'm talking to people who don't know her, I can just say what she does for a living, rather than pull out a picture of her in a really tight leotard like I used to. Which is good, 'cause the whole picture thing can sometimes be a little awkward to work into a conversation.

I think that's all I have to say. Hold on, let me check. Yes, it is! Wow, this ended up being pretty long. This should get me out of posting again for at least 6 months.

BYE

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