The Minningers

Big Shoes=Big Fun

2009-08-16T20:25:00.002-04:00

Chattanooga Zoo

2009-07-29T11:56:00.008-04:00

About a week ago Shannon and I took Max to the Chattanooga Zoo. We have read countless books about animals of one kind or another. Max has perfected his monkey impersonation and lion roar, so we thought it would be fun for him too see some “real live” animals.

The zoo is open at 9am every morning. In order to navigat

e through the daily routine of meals, snacks and naps, we arrived right when the staff was opening the gates. Max is always game for a new adventure, so he was alert and talkative in his stroller. We entered through the gift shop. The little store was filled with stuffed animals and trinkets of all kinds. Immediately my son began his running commentary on everything we saw. “Monkey!” he would say, pointing to a furry puppet. “Jeep!” he said pointing to a safari playset.

I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to some of the live animals.

Because Max has always been a fan of monkeys, we began our tour at the chimpanzee exhibit. (Of course, it didn’t hurt that it was the first thing you come to as you enter the grounds.)

Shannon and I wheeled Max’s stroller close to the window so he could see the chimps. We anxiously waited for his reaction. The chimps were on the far side of

the exhibit, lounging on some rocks and eating some fresh fruit. “Look at the monkeys!” we said excitedly. “Breakfast” was my son’s response. “Right,” I said “they are eating breakfast.”
('Wow…monkeys sitting on a rock' I’m sure he was thinking.)
We made our way around the display until we came to the indoor portion that housed a 40-year old chimp named Hank. I don’t know if it was because Hank was in the A/C or because the wise old chimp was used to seeing people, but he was more active.

When we approached the window, the chimpanzee noticed us right away. Hank immediately made his way toward the large window we were standing in front of. The closer he got, the bigger Max’s eyes got. The chimp was right in front of the window when my young son began waving his little arms in front of his face. In a quivering voice he said, “ALL DONE MONKEYS DADDY! ALL DONE”.

“It's okay. Don’t worry son,” I said and we made our way out of the room.

We meandered in and out of exhibits pointing out the different animals. Max would repeat the names as we called them out. Eventually we came to a “farm” exhibit that was also a petting zoo. Using Max’s earlier reaction to Hank as a barometer, I decided we had better just look at the animals through the chain link fence.

Just as we pushed the stroller up to the barrier, a large potbellied pig began using the bathroom. Shannon and I looked at each other and then down at Max to see if he was paying attention. Max had an immediate reaction. He exclaimed, “Piggy poop!” Yes. He was paying attention. He repeated it over and over just in case we hadn’t heard him the first time. “Piggy funny!” he said. (Interesting how men of all ages naturally see humor in bodily functions.)

I was about to laugh myself when I noticed my wife looking at me. She was giving me that look, you know the one than means “don’t encourage him”.

Aside from the monkeys, snow leopards, red pandas, bobcats, snakes and other assorted creatures there was also an old fashioned carousel. All in all, it was a very nice way to spend a Sunday morning. Max had a great time.

On the way home my son was sitting in the back seat pointing out the different vehicles we would pass. “Did you have a good time at the zoo?” we asked. “Yeah” he said enthusiastically. “Piggy poop!”

It's still dark outside ...

2009-06-24T09:20:00.007-04:00

One drawback to Shannon working out in the morning is that, very often, the sound of her leaving will wake Max up. As you know, getting up early is difficult enough for me and the extra 45 minutes after Shannon leaves are important. I mean, that is equal to 5 snooze buttons!

This morning I thought I would try something different to coax my child back to sleep. I turned off all of the lights so the entire house was nice and dim. I creeped slowly and quietly to his room. I gently picked up my son and with one arm free, felt around his crib for his pacifier and badeet. ("Badeet" is what he calls his little blanket.) He was barely awake and laid his little head on my shoulder. I tip-toed down the hall towards my bedroom. When we were almost to my door, he lifted his head and said, “dark DaDa”. I whispered, “yes Son.” And then said, “shhhhhh”.

I gently put him on the bed and then laid down next to him. His head was nestled in the crook of my arm. His eyes were open but his breathing was slow and soft. There was a tiny squeak coming from his pacifier. I was sure that if I stayed still and quiet he would drift back to sleep.

There was a chill in the room so I reached down and pulled the covers up to his waist. Just as I did Max’s eyes opened wide, he pulled the paci from his mouth, turned his head to look at me and said loudly, “Where did Max’s feet go?”

I pulled back the covers to

reveal his lower half. Just then, his little legs shot up into the air and he cackled pointing at his bare feet. He put his legs down and then pulled the blanket up himself. Once again he said excitedly, “Where did Max’s feet go?” Then he kicked off the covers and laughed again.

This game continued for a few minutes until I finally said “How would you like some breakfast?” “Down please!” was his response. I put him on the floor beside the bed. “Nana!” he yelled, short for banana, as he ran down the hall towards the kitchen.

I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes. Then I made my way to the kitchen. As I flipped on the light, there stood my son in his bugs and frogs jammies, smiling from ear to ear. Early or not, I wouldn’t trade this time with him for all the money in the world.

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-20T06:19:00.009-04:00

Even before the day I was born my dadda has been talking to me and planning to take care of me. I love the way he comes and gets me out of my crib in the morning when I wake up and he sits with me in the big blue chair in my room and reads stories to me until I really wake up. Then, he lets me help pick out my clothes and get dressed before he fixes my breakfast.

For breakfast, Dadda cuts up the bananas just the way I like so that I have something to eat while he mixes my oatmeal because sometimes I'm not very patient. (And he always remembers if I'm supposed to have medicine with my breakfast!) Then, on our way to school he listens when I point out every bus, RV, tractor and truck without ever telling me to be quiet. (And sometimes we see A LOT of those things!)

He works while I'm at school but sometimes when he comes home, Momma and I are outside and Dadda always lets me help him park his car in the garage. I LOVE driving his car! There are so many buttons and switches. And if I'm not waiting outside for him, he opens the door coming into the house very carefully because he knows I'm probably standing way too close to it and he doesn't want to knock me down. Then, he chases me all the way in the living room and wrestles with me like no one else does. My dadda is the best!

My momma says that my dadda learned so much from my papa which makes perfect sense because my buddy papa does some of the very same things. He sometimes stops to play with me on his way home from work, too and if I'm outside when he comes over, he lets me sit in his lap and drive his big green truck! (He has even been teaching me how to blow the horn!) And he calls to check on me when he knows I've been sick. I especially like it when he and Gigi come over and put me to bed. Papa is good at rocking me to sleep but sometimes I have to help him turn on the music on my iPod and remind him to turn off the lamp. When Papa tells me that I'm his little buddy, I can tell that he loves me very much.

I may be young but I already know I am very lucky to have Dadda and my Buddy Papa. I want to thank them both so much for everything they do for me and wish them both a Happy Father's Day!

- Max (with a little help from his mom)

Social Butterfly

2009-06-14T19:42:00.012-04:00

Max's social calendar has been pretty busy over the last couple of weeks. Dan and I are perfectly content to stay at home on the weekends after busy weekdays, but we agree that it's important for Max to get plenty of socialization. Plus, Max really seems to enjoy being out and about.

We've been to a couple of 3 year old birthday parties. (I know, he's already running with an older crowd!) And we've played a little with a neighbor in the evenings. Last week, his Gigi and I even took him to his first Kindermusik class, which he loved.

This weekend we went all out, though. We made our first visit to the C

reative Discovery Museum to have breakfast with Curious George on Saturday morning. Max wasn't the least bit intimidated by George and he loved the museum. He went from room to room eagerly checking everything out. He especially loved the water area and toddler room with the corvette!

Today his Poppa and Gigi took him to the Tennessee Aquarium and he came home telling us how he saw the "fishies". I think everyone had a great time.

At 27 lbs and 34 inches tall, he's a perfect 18 month old boy!

How Cute! (for now, at least)

2009-06-01T11:07:00.009-04:00

Max’s vocabulary grows daily. Each morning I'm amazed at the new words that flow from the mouth of my growing boy. Our conversations are less and less one sided with each passing day. My son has been content to listen to me talk as we go about our business getting ready for the day. Not any more.

With a smile on his face, Max will spout a new expression. More often than not, the new word will be shouted at me. Not as much as a response to my questions, but as a way to point out a situation that requires my immediate attention.

Just this morning I was feeding Max his breakfast. I mixed a bowl of oatmeal and placed it on his high chair tray. “Bowl” he said when I placed the cereal in front of him. “That’s right,” I said. “It is a bowl.” “SPOON! DaDa!” was his reaction. He looked at me as if I was crazy for not including the utensil with the food. I quickly handed him a small plastic spoon so he could begin eating.

Another example happened late last week. I was gathering our things so we could head out the door to daycare. I was standing at the back door with his school bag in my hands. I was trying to make sure that I wasn’t forgetting anything. Just then, Max walked up to me and said “All done”. “All done what?” I thought. He must have sensed my confusion because (as if on cue) “POOP!” he proclaimed while pointing at his diaper.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I mumbled under my breath. I decided leaving would have to wait for a few minutes. Also, he has been learning temperatures. When his mom gives him his supper, he almost always says, "Hot?" when she puts it on his tray. When she responds, "No, it's not hot." He says, "urm?" And when his mom reassures him that it's not even warm, then he finally says, "Burrrr."

Clearly, I need to be very careful about what I say around him. Who knows what phrase he will decide to repeat when we are in the checkout line at Target.

Helping Daddy Get Ready

2009-05-15T19:39:00.006-04:00

I have mentioned before that Shannon goes to the gym in the morning. That means that I am responsible for getting Max up, getting him dressed, feeding him breakfast and then getting him to daycare. It sounds like a lot, but it is really no big deal. We have worked out a routine and I enjoy the father/son time.

Part of our morning ritual is that I get up early and get showered and dressed before Max wakes up. As you can imagine, it would be difficult for both of us to get ready at the same time. On occasion, like most toddlers, Max does not follow the schedule.

This was the case last Wednesday morning. I had finished showering but had not gotten dressed before I heard my son’s little voice over the monitor. “Daaaaaaddy,” he was saying. I quickly threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and snatched my son from his crib.

I dressed him in a super cool outfit (as only a Dad can do) and then fed him his breakfast. After I wiped the oatmeal and bananas from his face and hands, we retreated to the master bedroom so I could finish getting ready for work. I closed the door behind us so Max would not wander off while I got dressed.

While I was getting my clothes together, Max kept himself busy by taking things out of the vanity drawers and throwing them into the bathtub. “Uh oh,” he would say as the makeup brushes and assorted toiletries would fly into the tub. “It’s not an 'uh oh' if you do it on purpose,” I would respond.

Rather than spend time picking things up and putting them back in the drawers I decided to get Max a toy to play with. I went into the hallway and grabbed his little Leap Frog train. It is a little train that he can either sit on and scoot around or stand behind and push. That seemed to do the trick because he spent the next few minutes pushing it back and forth across the tile floor.

I was brushing my teeth and not really paying attention to Max. I could hear the plastic wheels rolling across the ceramic so I knew he was busy. Just then, WHAM! I got a full speed train right in the back of my ankle. “Ouch!” I screamed, hopping around on one foot, toothpaste dripping from my mouth.

I was fully prepared to scold my son, but as I looked down he was belly laughing and pointing at me. I’m sure it looked very funny with Daddy jumping around in his boxer shorts. I couldn’t get mad at him so I said, “That hurt Son, don’t run over my feet like that.” I don’t think he heard me through his chuckling because he reared back and took a run at my other leg. I must have looked like a matador dodging a charging bull as I continued trying to brush my teeth. Both of us giggling at the new game.

Needless to say, it took a little longer to get ready that morning. I know I should discipline Max for stuff like that because it wouldn’t be acceptable around other people. For now, though, I’m just going to enjoy his “help”.

Lawnmower! Bus!

2009-04-20T09:28:00.008-04:00

My young son has developed an obsession. Sure, like most little boys he is fascinated with cars, motorcycles, trucks and heavy equipment of all kinds, but to our amusement it is lawnmowers and buses that have really caught his fancy.

I can almost understand the bus thing. Max and I drive by multiple bus stops (and a couple of schools) on our way to daycare in the morning. The school buses we pass are large, yellow and have flashing lights on them. What’s not to like?

It would be comical to listen to a tape of our morning drive conversations. Anything I say (or sing) is constantly interrupted by my tiny son pointing out the big, brightly colored vehicles as we travel down the street. A typical exchange might be me starting to sing “the itsy bitsy spider went” about that time my son will yell “ A BUS!”. I then reply “that’s right son…a bus” followed by singing “up the water spout”. “A BUS!” Max will yell again. “Very good” I reply, only to resume my award winning rendition of the song. “A BUS!” Max will yell again. By this time I am thinking, “Wow! That one has to be a half mile away” This continues for another ten minutes until we get to the daycare center. Of course, what does the daycare center have in their parking lot when we get there? You guessed it, a bus.

The lawnmower fixation I am still a little puzzled about. I hate yard work and don’t even own a lawnmower, but the mere sound of one sends my son scrambling to the nearest window. He will point his chubby little finger and proudly exclaim “LAWNMOWER!” He gets even more excited if he can actually see the machine. He will stand mesmerized until whoever is using the contraption is done.

The obsession doesn’t end with actual lawnmowers. He has carried around an old Lowes Home Improvement Advertisement until it is tattered and worn. He would be happy to sit on your lap for hours looking at pictures of outdoor equipment. When you get to the page with John Deere tractor he turns toward me and says “John Deere”. He is so happy.

Right now it is very fun and cute to see him all excited. I am sure this will change by the time he is thirteen and I buy him a bright green Lawn Boy mower to push around the yard.

Bottle No More (from a mother's perspective)

2009-04-10T07:36:00.011-04:00

Max has been having a bottle only at bedtime for the last few months. He stopped taking bottles during the day, even at nap time, quite some time ago. He just preferred his sippy cup, which was fine.

I had decided that I would continue to give him a bedtime bottle until he was 18 months. I thought that was reasonable and had begun to prepare myself for the inevitable approach of that milestone. However, last week, I noticed that he really only drank maybe an ounce of an 8 ounce bottle. "Hmmmm," I thought, "I hope he's not getting sick or something." Then, the next night, Dan put him to bed and he came out of Max's room with a full bottle again. So, on night three, I suggested to Dan that we maybe just try it without a bottle, that we'd make one if he seemed like he wanted one. I would be on standby with a bottle nearby if needed. But minutes after the bedtime ritual started, Dan came out of Max's room. I anxiously looked at him and said, "Oh, do you need me to make a bottle?" Dan replied no that Max was already asleep.

Well, you'd have thought someone had just told me that my baby boy had contracted some horrible disease because I just lost it! Huge crocodile tears streaming down my face, I began to lament the fact that my baby boy no longer takes a bottle even at bedtime. I wasn't ready for him to stop taking a bottle. I thought as the mom I got to make some of the decisions! And I had decided he could have it until he was 18 months. I was supposed to have two more months to prepare. But it seems that Max had different plans.

We're going on a week without a bottle now. That phrase about things being much harder on the parents than the child suddenly has new meaning for me. Max has been relatively unphased by the entire thing, but I on the other hand, have cried a river. I shed a tear or two at Target yesterday as I passed through the formula isle without adding a thing to my cart. I guess it's particularly sad to me because I know it is such a milestone. He really isn't a baby anymore. And as our only child, I will never have the experience of giving my baby a bottle again. It has been such a wonderful experience, I truly leave it with a great deal of sadness.

I'm told by all my friends and family with older kids that there will soon be some new development that will overshadow this loss, but for now, I'm holding him just a little bit longer when I rock him to sleep at night because the foreshadowing suggests it won't be too long before I won't be able to do that anymore either. He's already spanning the entire width of the rocking chair across my lap and it's quite comical to see me trying to gently place him in his crib. I practically fall in on top of him since my 5'2" frame can hardly reach the mattress over the side rails.

On the bright side, I guess I can get rid of all the bottle paraphernalia and you all know how much I love to be able to get rid of stuff. Maybe that will make me feel a little better.

P.S. We had a lovely bath last night without any signs of fear or crying. I think that crisis has passed. Oh, and these photos are from The Primrose Easter Bonnet Parade earlier today.

First Haircut

2009-03-14T11:24:00.013-04:00

We have successfully completed our first haircut without incident, unless you consider Max flirting with everyone in the salon as an incident.

I picked him up from his school on Thursday and took him to see Anjie, our hairdresser and long time family friend, at Jessie James Hair Studio. I was prepared for a meltdown since we've had such trouble with anything to do with water lately, but it couldn't have gone any better. Max behaved like a perfect gentleman.

Anjie had a little case to use as a booster, a cape with penguins on it, and some shiny hair clips for Max to play with while she worked. A few snips here and a little buzzing there (which kind of tickled Max's neck) and Max had a new 'do!

He was smiling from ear to ear as all the ladies in the shop admired him. And I'm pretty sure I was smiling from ear to ear with the relief that only a mother can have as her baby boy achieves yet another milestone.

Max and Gigi

2009-03-11T20:17:00.007-04:00

When my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of months ago we were all very concerned. Cancer is very scary no matter what form it comes in. The whole family has held their collective breath as we waited for details of the treatment and prognosis. As a son, I have tried to be strong and supportive. I feel it is important for me to be upbeat and positive when I talk to my Mom. I admit, however, that I did break down at least once or twice when we first heard the news.

One of the drawbacks to a family member having cancer is the illness becomes the elephant in the room. We all know, but it becomes difficult to talk about it. No one wants to broach the subject for fear of facing the possibilities. It has become even more difficult as my Mom began suffering the side effects of chemotherapy. It was quite shocking for me to walk into the room and see her when she began losing her hair. (Although not as shocking as the first time I remember “catching” her coloring her hair. I had come inside for a drink of Kool-aid and there stood Medusa in front of the kitchen sink, strands of hair sticking out of her plastic coloring cap.)

A bright spot during the last several weeks has been Max. He really loves his Gigi and is too young to understand what is happening. He loves her unconditionally and just beams when she is around. He didn’t seem to notice when Mom began losing her hair. If he did notice, he didn’t care. He has taken a shine to her colorful hat collection, though. As with all hats (and glasses) he will snatch them off of your head and attempt to put them on.

The first time he did this to Gigi I gasped wondering what my mother’s reaction would be. You see, my Dad has been “follicly challenged” as long as I can remember, but my mother was very new to the concept. As with all things, my mother handled the event with grace and class. She went along as if nothing had happened.

Mom has been amazing through every step of her treatment so far. With three chemo sessions down and one more to go before surgery and radiation, we are all in awe of her strength and courage.

Many times I have thanked God for this gift I call Max. His happy disposition and childhood innocence will often put things into perspective for me. I believe that the Lord uses my son to help our family focus on what is important. We are thankful for what we have and just enjoy being together. We should all be content with the little things like sitting on your grandmother’s lap and reading a book.

What do you mean you don't want to take a bath?

2009-03-09T10:24:00.005-04:00

At some point during the last month Max has decided he hates taking a bath. This is very troubling to Shannon and I because up until now he has loved playing in the bathtub. He cries at the mere suggestion of a bath. The sound of running water sends him into a panic.

The other night I just said “bath time” and he replied with a pitiful “no”. Then he started waving his arms in front of him like a sailor on an aircraft carrier trying to flag down a plane. It was pretty clear how he felt about the whole idea of getting cleaned up. I probably would have let it go if he hadn't had dried snot on his upper lip and dried sweet potatoes on his chin and neck.

Gone are the days when Max would splash in the tub and play with his toys until the water was cold. He sobs from the time you get him undressed until he has been slathered with lotion and is in his footie jammies. It makes us feel awful.

I don’t know what triggered this aversion to water and we are at a loss as to what to do. We have tried a different bathtub. We tried a shower instead of a bath. We have tried just sponging him off in the sink. We have even tried getting in the tub with him. (Granny Alice even put on her bathing suit and got in with him in an effort to convince him it was just swimming.)

Nothing works. He just cries the whole time.

The real problem (besides feeling terrible that my son is wailing) is that he is mobile and active during his every waking moment now. He is working on feeding himself with a spoon and enjoys playing outside. Both of these new activities are causing him to be dirtier than ever. Now that he actually needs a bath, he doesn’t want to take one.

We will have to find a way to work through it because I don’t want to be the father of the “smelly” kid.

Getting Home

2009-02-28T10:22:00.004-05:00

My baby boy is growing up fast. It seems like just yesterday he was taking his first steps. Now he is toddling around the house like a pro. The best thing about him being mobile is when I get home form work at night.

Our driveway curves around in front of our house. There is a big window in the library that looks out onto the driveway. Max spends a lot of his time in the library “reading” books and playing with toys. Most evenings when I pull into the driveway, I can see him through that big window. He is usually busy pulling books off the shelf and “stacking” them on the floor. As I slow down to pull in to the garage, I can see the big smile on his face when he notices my car. I watch as he points a chubby little finger in my direction and I can see him mouth the words “Da Da”.

By the time I park the car and make my way through the garage door into the back hallway, I can hear him squeal and see him waddle around the corner as fast as his little legs will carry him. He looks like a little version of Frankenstein as he ambles down the wood floor, arms outstretched in front of him.

“Hello Baby Boy!” I say, as I scoop him up in my arms. He giggles while he squirms to get down. When I let him down, he takes off in the direction of the living room rug. He is making a mad effort to get away and wants me to chase him. (chuckling the whole time) The ultimate goal is to get to the soft, comfort of the area rug so we can “wrestle”.

When I get to the living room, I flop down on the floor so he can jump on me. As he crashes down on my back I shout “oh, you got me”. He just laughs.

I have forgotten about the stresses of the day. The only thing that matters at that moment is me and my boy. What could be better?

There!

2009-02-05T19:43:00.006-05:00

Max is growing fast and his personality has started to really blossom. He walks everywhere and jabbers the whole time. His vocabulary increases every day. One thing that makes me chuckle is his use of the word “there”. Out of the blue he started using the expression to mark his accomplishments.

The most common example is when he is struggling to move something heavy. For instance, he will grunt and groan trying to lift the lid off of one of our ottomans. All at once the lid will come free and fall away from the base. Max exclaims, “there!” to let us know he has succeeded.

It is not always limited to heavy things. If he puts a book on the shelf or removes the lid from a piece of Tupperware he will say “there” as if everything is now right with the world.

Like the period on the end of a sentence, the word “there” also marks the end of his task. Then it’s on to another important mission…

Sunday with Max

2009-01-25T19:03:00.005-05:00

The day started out like any other day with Max...very early.

We had breakfast with our friends Nathalie, Jeff, Ian and Audrey at the Blue Plate restaurant in downtown Chattanooga at around nine o'clock this morning. It was very nice to see them. Max was excited to see his little friend Ian. (It didn't hurt that Ian had filled up the pockets of his jacket and cargo pants with matchbox cars and tractors.)

After breakfast we took Max for his first trip to the drive through car wash. It was all smiles while the machine squirted, scrubbed, slapped and swished daddy's car. (Until we got out, that is. Then daddy noticed he had paid $10 to have dirt just smeared around. He wasn't smiling anymore.)

In the afternoon we all got bundled up and went outside for a walk and to play on our swing set. Max had a great time swinging in the "toddler bucket" with Dad along side him. Then Dad put him up in the fort so he could stand like a big boy. It didn't take long for Max to see the big green slide. He marched right over to the top of it, threw one leg over, turned around backwards and then slid unassisted down the slippery, plastic tube. He doesn't seem to be afraid of anything. I hope he grows out of that because he sure makes me nervous.

He cleans up good.

2009-01-20T19:55:00.008-05:00

I would say that Max is most comfortable in jammies or comfy clothes.

This is straight out of the JC Penney catalog.

Max's Happy Feet

2009-01-10T13:44:00.003-05:00

Max gets more mobile every day. It really adds some excitement to spending time with him. He has always been a little ham, but now that he can stand and walk, Max is a real show off.

He also started doing this "Lord of the Dance" thing we have dubbed "happy feet". Then, of course, there is his obsession with moving our furniture around. Non-stop entertainment!

Max's Second Christmas

2009-01-10T13:31:00.004-05:00

This year was Max's second Christmas. He enjoyed it much more this year. It was fun to have Grampie, GiGi and Granny here to watch him open presents.

Just a good ol’ boy…

2008-12-20T11:17:00.006-05:00

I have traveled (and lived) all over this great country of ours. Each region of the United States has its benefits. Beauty can be found in every state. That being said, I am glad that Max was born in Tennessee.

“What’s so great about Tennessee?” you ask. Aside from things like the Smokey Mountains, southern BBQ, biscuits and gravy and SEC Football, I would have to say southern accents. I love the way people talk in the south.

I know that my son is only a year old but I can already detect the “twang” in his speech. For instance, we were watching Alabama play Florida in the SEC title game a couple of weeks ago. Max and I were sitting on the living room floor playing with some big Lego blocks and glancing at the television. I was trying to get the little fella to say football. He can’t quite get the “foot” part down, but he has mastered the word ball. Only when Max says it, it doesn’t come out “ball”. It is a full blown, southern “baawwl”. Like most Tennessee boys the word ball practically has two syllables. When he says "hi" or "bye" he sounds like Holly Hunter's character in the movie "Raising Arizona".

He won't be truly southern until he utters his first "Y'all". Nevertheless, I should probably start saving up to buy him a pickup truck.

Happy 1st Birthday!

2008-12-01T13:19:00.011-05:00

Max,

I can’t believe it has been a year already. You have grown so much in these last twelve months. I have grown, too.

I remember the moment you were born like it was yesterday. I had prepared myself for changing diapers and taking care of a baby. I was not prepared for the rush of emotion I would feel the first time I saw you. I didn’t know I could have such love for someone I had just met. I haven’t wanted to be away from you since that day.
Your smile and laugh brighten my day. I never get tired of hearing you say “DaDa” or watching you figure out things for the first time. I look forward to seeing what the next year brings.

You make me proud to be a Dad. I’m lucky to have you as my son.

I love you.

Dad

Anybody need a kleenex?

2008-11-19T19:21:00.003-05:00

The other night Shannon and I were sitting on the couch watching our son play on the floor. He was jabbering and checking out everything. He crawled around the back of the couch and suddenly got very quiet. We knew he must be up to something. He had discovered a box of tissues on the end table. Sometimes the simplest things are the most fun.

I have always told myself that I won't be one of those parents that lets their children run wild. This was just so stinkin' cute that I couldn't help but chuckle. He was having so much fun that I didn't have the heart to stop him.

My Favorite Time of Day

2008-11-04T21:00:00.002-05:00

Shannon and I have been very blessed to have a baby that goes to sleep at an early hour and sleeps through the night. Like clockwork, my little boy is ready for bed at 6pm. The problem for me is that I don’t usually get home before six o’clock. Many nights I get home only to find my son fast asleep in his crib. It always makes me a little sad that I didn’t get to see him before he went down.

In the last couple of weeks he has waited for me to get home before retiring for the night. (I suspect his mom might be letting his bath go a little longer these days.) Max is still ready to go to bed when I get there, but he is awake enough for a smile and a giggle when I walk in the house. I put down my things as quick as I can and then snatch up my baby boy.

He and I will catch up on our day and maybe wrestle for a minute. That is usually when Shannon gives me the “evil eye” and says, “You DO know it’s bed time, right?” That is when we head off to his room with a warm bottle.

I sit in the rocking chair with baby Max in my arms. I turn on the iPod player loaded with baby music and hand my son his “feel good” blanket. The feel good blanket is one of those small, swatch blankets with all the different shapes and fabrics sewn to it. Max likes to rub the corduroy triangles with his index finger while he falls asleep.

For the next 15 or 20 minutes he and I sit in the dark, Max drinking a warm bottle, listening to the soft music and gently rocking. It doesn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep. (Sometimes it doesn’t take me long either.) Even after he has nodded off, I like to hold him and relax for a few minutes.

I can’t think of a better way to end the work day.

Diaper Baby

2008-11-04T20:50:00.002-05:00

Happy Halloween!!!

2008-10-28T21:07:00.002-04:00

Our Little German Baker

2008-10-18T10:31:00.007-04:00

Last month was World Culture Month at Max's school. Each class studied a particular country throughout the month and the festivities came to a close with a parade through the parking lot at the end of the month with each class dressed as members of their respective country. Max's class represented Germany and it's renowned bakers famous for their Pat-a-Cake skills. In addition to wearing the hat, Max is also now proud to demonstrate how he can clap his hands together!

Decoding Baby Talk

2008-10-01T20:21:00.006-04:00

I really enjoy the weekend because I get to spend so much time with Max and Shannon. This past weekend was no exception.

Max is ten months old and developing quite a little personality. He is very happy and getting more vocal everyday. He hasn’t said anything that would “technically” be considered his first words. He did say “Da Da” when pointing at me. At first I was excited, but then I noticed quickly that he also says it when pointing to the lamp, window and the dog.

We recently began this fun game called “Test Dad’s Knowledge on Household Items.” It starts with Max pointing at something and uttering “uttsat”. I interpret this to mean “What’s that?” I quickly answer “ceiling fan” (or whatever I think he is pointing at.) Max then responds “huh?” I repeat myself slowly and clearly “ceiling fan”.

Satisfied with my answer (the second time) he points to another object and we begin the process again. The game can last anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. It usually ends when we come across something that’s flashes, beeps or sings a (nauseatingly) cheerful song about shapes or animals.

Besides quizzing his father, Max has also begun responding to questions of his own. He has a book about dogs that he likes to read. Big dogs, small dogs, clean dogs sloppy…blah, blah, blah big ears floppy. (Can you tell I have read it a time or two?) There is a part in the book where a puppy says “Arf, Arf!” and Max loves it when you bark out loud.

Anyway, now when you ask Max what the puppy says, he will respond. He can’t quite bark yet but he will say “Ugh, Ugh” or “Bup, Bup”. It's pretty cute.

With him becoming so aware, I really need to start watching what I say or his first real words could be very interesting.

Our Saviour Owen Meany February 1993 - September 2008

2008-09-24T09:09:00.006-04:00

Over 15 years ago, Dan and I were walking around Hamilton Place mall a month or so after we had gotten engaged. We spotted the cutest little shih tzu in the pet store. We played with him a little and then walked back out in the mall discussing if we would get a dog after we married and what kind we might get, etc.

I remember sitting on one of those mall benches dreaming about what we might name a dog when we did get one. We were filled with ideas about the life that we were starting to plan with one another. We agreed that we would get an inside dog. I'd always wanted one but had never been allowed and Dan had always had them at his house.

Dan and I had taken a trip to Florida over spring break earlier that year and during the drive I had read out loud the entire novel A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. (I guess that was before we even knew audio books existed.) After hearing that high pitched, squeaky bark in the pet store that was way bigger than the dog itself, we agreed that the perfect name for that little puppy would be Owen, since he reminded us both of the little boy with the high pitched, very loud squeaky voice that we had enjoyed reading about in John Irving's novel.

I guess once you name a dog, it's yours. We didn't have the money to buy him, but they approved me to buy Owen on credit (at who knows what interest). So, a couple of hours later we were the proud owners of a black and white shih tzu named Our Saviour Owen Meany. That was our first purchase as a couple. And boy was it a good one!

Those of you who know Owen, know that from the beginning he had personality. He definitely had a mind of his own and opinions about lots of things. He never really liked other dogs too much and didn't care for children either. I always thought that he had a little bit of a short man syndrome and wanted to bully anything that he thought he could. Dan suspected that he probably had bad experiences with kids in the pet store before we rescued him. At any rate, we always worried that it would be a problem if we ever had children.

A few years ago, we decided to take in another shih tzu, Foxxy Cleopatra. I wouldn't say that Owen welcomed her into his home with open arms but he definitely came to love her and I think that her perkiness probably extended his life. He was certainly much more active after we got her.

But while I was pregnant, we discovered that Owen had lymphoma and treatment options were limited due to my condition. He didn't seem to have any symptoms other than the tumors growing below his ears, so, we opted for conservative treatments throughout my pregnancy. Owen was already almost 14 years old.

Once we had Max, Owen seemed to have lost most of his hearing, either because of old age or because of the tumors, and was really unphased by the addition to the family. A blessing in disguise I guess. A couple of months ago it seemed that the tumors were growing again so we began some new medications and he responded positively but we knew our time with him was limited. We agreed that we would do everything we could to give him a good quality of life, but once that was deteriorated, we would not let him suffer.

So, yesterday evening, all of the sudden Owen seemed to have lost most of his vision and became very disoriented. We carried him to bed with us, where he gobbled down his bedtime treats just like always. But when he wasn't any better this morning, and couldn't go for our morning walk, we knew it was time to say goodbye.

Owen lived a very long and very happy life. Dan and I are so grateful for the time we had with him and all that he taught us about being responsible adults and creating a loving home. We can't imagine a life without him and are going to miss him beyond belief. Thanks for sharing in our loss and keep us in your thoughts on this very sad day.

Much love,
Shannon

Showdown at the MM Corral

2008-09-08T21:23:00.008-04:00

I could use several paragraphs to describe what it is like to babysit my son. It is much easier if I just sum it up for you.

Max is mobile.
Max is quick.
Max does not sit still unless he is asleep (even then he squirms a little).

Shannon and I have resorted to what we call the MM Corral. The MM Corral consists of strategically placed couches, loveseats, ottomans and footrests. Like coaches describing an NFL running back, “We can’t stop him…we only hope to contain him.”

The truth is, it works like a charm. We can spend Saturday afternoons playing with Max instead of chasing him.

We should enjoy it while it lasts. It won’t be long before he will figure out how to get out and then we better lace up the running shoes.

9 Months Old Today!

2008-08-28T20:46:00.005-04:00

Can you believe he's 9 months old already? Us, either. We thought time went by pretty quickly before we had Max but now it seems like we blink and he's moved on to a new skill set.

Max has really started to enjoy taking his bath and it's a good thing since he has to have one every day now. His little knees and the tops of his feet get pretty dirty after a full day of crawling around everywhere. His newest trick is pushing things around and he is obsessed with it. He will push anything that moves easily from one end of the house to the other. And I got a report from his teacher at school that he has learned he can push the cribs in his classroom around and he especially enjoys doing it if one of his friends happens to be sleeping in it.

I can only imagine how life will continue to change when he starts walking!

New Morning Routine

2008-07-30T20:55:00.008-04:00

About four weeks ago, I started going to the gym at night. I come home from work, spend a few minutes with Max as he gets ready for bed, talk to Shannon a little bit and then head to the fitness center for a workout. Aside from being wide awake at 10:00 PM, it is a schedule that is working pretty well.

Because going to the gym together is no longer an option, this week Shannon started doing her workouts at the crack of dawn (about 5:00AM, ughhhhhh!). What this means for me is that Max and I now spend our morning together.
I generally get up by 5:30 so that I can take a shower, get dressed, pack my lunch and let the dogs out before my smiling son wakes up. That’s not a big deal because it’s only about 30 minutes earlier than I would normally get up. I am happy to do it. It gives me some “daddy” time with Max during the week. (Plus, as y’all know, I LOVE mornings!)

About 5:50 or 6:00 AM I can hear Max jabbering on the baby monitor. That is when the fun really starts. I flip on the hall light and slowly open the door to his room. I am immediately greeted by a big smile as the boy peers through the bars of his crib. He looks like an inmate about to be paroled. In the last couple of weeks he has started to do this surprised type “gasp” whenever he sees you for the first time. It is just like the sound you would make if you had been holding your breath under water and had just surfaced for some badly needed air. It’s a total riot!

After some routine hugs and kisses it is straight to the changing table for a clean diaper. This is no easy task now that the boy has become mobile. The second I lay him on the changing pad he tries to flip over and crawl away. It’s like a fun little game we play. Flip the boy over…unbutton the jammies. Flip the boy back over….loosen the diaper. Flip the boy back over…take off the dirty diaper. Then, while simultaneously holding him down with my left arm, I wipe him down and slide a clean diaper under him. Last, but not least, I try to get his feet back in his pajamas while he is kicking like a miniature Chuck Norris.

Next comes Max’s breakfast.

Rule number one for feeding my son is: Do NOT put him in the highchair unless you are ready to feed him. In Max’s world, strapped in = food. Sometimes you can distract him with a wooden spoon to play with, but that will only last for a minute. The longer he waits to eat the more he will grunt and groan. As soon as you get his cereal ready and walk over to the highchair to start feeding him, he will get a big smile and let out another one of his happy “gasps”. Then it is just a matter of scooping and shoveling.

By the time we get done with our breakfast Momma is home and Daddy can leave for work. Another successful morning.

Max and Avery sittin' in a tree!

2008-07-28T20:33:00.007-04:00

And, we're off!

2008-07-18T12:40:00.005-04:00

Max is crawling now. In the span of just a few days he went from being on all fours rocking back and forth to full blown crawling. In fact, he's even started sleeping in the crawling position. He sleeps this way the entire night so that when he wakes up he has huge red blotches covering his knee areas.

With him crawling, there's a whole new meaning to when Shannon says, “Keep an eye on the baby.” Do you have an idea how much ground a 7 month old can cover when he crawls?

To look at him it does not seem that he is moving very fast. Turn your head for a second and he is across the room with one of the shih-tzu’s in a headlock. I am convinced that when I’m not looking, he stands up and runs across the floor.

What that also means for us, is we now have to look at everything less than three feet off of the floor. Especially the stuff that will fit in his mouth. What is funny about that is, when he is in his high chair I can’t pay him to eat a Cheerio. If I throw it on the living room rug, BAM, right in his mouth.

On the bright side, between Max and the dogs, we probably won’t have to vacuum as often.

He gets that from his mother.

2008-06-30T20:32:00.006-04:00

We all have that internal clock that tells our body when to wake up. Mine has always had a built in snooze button. Shannon, on the other hand, will wake up at the crack of dawn even when we are on vacation. Without setting the alarm clock, she springs from the bed, wide awake, ready to take on whatever the day has in store. I prefer to ease into the day. I hit the snooze button and then do the math to figure out how much time I will have to get ready. This is not any easy feat considering “snooze” is 9 minutes. (Why did the alarm clock people settle on an odd number anyway? Why not 10?)Early in our marriage this was a source of contention. “How can you sleep away your off day?” Shannon would say. “I can’t! As long as you keep waking me up,” I would reply. She would then proceed to run the vacumn, dishwasher and any other noisy appliance.

Over the last 14 years I have “transmogrified” into a sudo-early riser. Gone are the days when I could sleep until 11 on a Saturday morning. Now, without any alarm or prodding from my wife, I will be up bright and early.

I say all that to say this. “My son is a morning person!” His internal clock is set to wake at 5:45 am. On the dot. (My alarm is set for 5:50 am.) Every morning, just before my clock radio sounds, I hear my young son jabbering on the baby monitor. He is happy and playful. Glad to be awake and ready to start his morning routine. Normally I would be less than thrilled to get up before I needed to, but I can’t get mad when I hear his little voice babbling.

All in all it is a nice way to wake up.

Movie Premiere

2008-06-25T10:31:00.004-04:00

It's Max's movie debut! Enjoy!

Father's Day

2008-06-20T17:34:00.003-04:00

Any time I get to spend the whole day with my son is special. Somehow, because it was my first “Father’s Day”, last Sunday seemed different. It felt more important. That morning, while I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee watching my son eat his cereal, I started thinking about what it means to be a father.

I am a little disturbed about how husbands and fathers are portrayed lately. Every year we, as a society, are subjected to silly TV commercials that depict the American Dad as a bumbling, mouth breathing, doofus. Father's Day is the day when he gets a new grill or power tool because he managed to screw up his previous one. I am not that guy. Most of my friends are not that guy.

So what do I think it mean to be a father?

It means that I have to work hard. Not only to provide for my family, but to set a good example for my son.

It means that things like motorcycles no longer seem important.

It means that I need to know how to change a diaper, prepare baby food and warm a bottle.

It means that when I play with my son, just like in rugby, I need to be prepared for a poke in the eye, a headbut or an occasional kick to the groin, all without getting mad.

It means I want to live a safer and healthier lifestyle because I don’t want to miss a minute of my son growing up.

It means that I would walk through fire and give my life for my child.

It means that no matter what kind of day I had, when I walk in the door and see my son’s face light up, everything is good.

I could go on for days, but you get the point. It was a good first Father’s Day.

Brick Sighting!

2008-06-15T09:56:00.005-04:00

Thanks to cousins Dakota and Jake for confirming that Max really does have a brick at Wrigley Field and that I didn't pay a bunch of money for a brick just to sit on our mantle.

Max with his first real solid food!

2008-06-11T20:49:00.006-04:00

Oh, that crazy Bee ...

2008-06-02T10:15:00.003-04:00

Shannon and I watched the Scripps National Spelling Bee last night. Just like the Little League World series, I try and see it every year. Call me crazy, but I just love to watch these young social misfits compete. They stand tall under the intense pressure in an effort to win the coveted trophy and a pile of scholarship money. I think about all of the hours of study and practice (not to mention countless “wedgies” and “noogies”) they must have endured to make it to the national stage. They all deserve to be commended.

Like anything Shannon and I watch involving children, we ended up in a discussion about what part of parenting makes some children driven and successful. “How do these kids get so smart?” Shannon asked at one point. “I think it is because their parents make education and learning the main priority,” I said. “That and they probably aren’t such good athletes with their pants “jacked up” so high.”

Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to make fun of these kids or belittle their accomplishments. I will be thrilled if Max grows up to be able to spell "guerdon" (a word of Germanic origin that means “reward) like little Sameer Mishra from Indiana. Congratulations Sameer. Great Job!

Being smart is a good thing. I am lucky to be married to Shannon. I know she will make learning and reading a priority at our house. I will do what I can to help. I want my son to get good grades and go to quality schools.

In fact, I hope Max is the smartest person ever to play third base for the Chicago Cubs.

What is in that breast milk?

2008-05-21T21:33:00.007-04:00

Max is getting very close to six months in age. If he keeps growing at this pace, before long he will be the size of a 5th grader. He has also discovered how much he likes to bang his toys on things. It’s like living with Bam Bam off the Flintstones.

You think I am exaggerating, but I’m not. Just the other night Shannon was out at book club. Max and I stayed home for a boy’s only night. (We both really wanted to go to book club but we hadn’t read the book.) Max was getting hungry so I fed him some rice cereal and a jar of green beans. I gave him a small bottle of milk to wash down all that tasty food.

After supper I put Max in the exersaucer to play. Of course, by play I mean banging his fist on the plastic toys in front of him. Soon I began to smell a foul odor. This is the benefit of adding vegetables to his diet. No longer do you have to speculate on weather or not he needs a diaper change. I also noticed a small amount of green bean paste in his right nostril.

To make a long story short, the meal combined with the “overflow”, required me to give him a bath. When he was clean and greased up, I decided to just put him in his jammies. It was already getting close to bed time.

I grabbed a pair of pajamas from the clean clothes stack and laid them on the changing table. After wrestling with flailing arms and kicking legs, I finally buttoned the last (of about 50) snaps. I looked down at my smiling baby boy and realized he wasn’t wiggling anymore. Not because he was getting sleepy, but because he couldn’t budge in his skin tight outfit. He looked like Lloyd Bridges in one of those old Sea Hunt reruns.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I thought. “He just wore those two days ago.” For a second or two I debated getting some scissors and just cutting the feet out of them. But better safe than sorry I always say. We tried on a couple more outfits before we found one that fit.

I guess that is why you see so many babies in just a diaper when you go to Wal-Mart.

My Little Cubs Fan

2008-05-14T21:07:00.019-04:00

It was early in the morning on November 29, 2007. Shannon had given birth the night before. The hospital room was very quiet. My wife was sleeping (with the help of some pain medication) and my new son had just dozed off. I myself couldn’t sleep. Mostly from the excitement of seeing that beautiful baby boy, but also because the fold out couch felt like a burlap bag filled with concrete.

As the sun began to show through the aluminum blinds I did what any proud new father would do. I pulled out the laptop and started checking out my favorite sports teams on the internet. While looking at cubs.com, the official site of the Chicago Cubs, I noticed a link that said “Wrigley Field Brick Paver Program”. Curious, I clicked on it.

Over the winter they were redoing the sidewalk and ticket area around Wrigley Field in Chicago. For a fee you could purchase a brick and put an inscription on it. That customized brick would be laid in front of the ballpark for all to see. When the project was completed I would be sent a replica of the original paver and given directions on how to find it when we visited Wrigley Field. “This is too good to be true,” I thought. I quickly ordered one with my son’s name on it.

I spent the next few minutes looking into Max’s crib and imagining taking him up to a Cubs game and looking for “his brick”. “How old should he be when I take him?” I thought. “5 maybe 6 years old?” He needs to be old enough to appreciate it. I guess I’ll know when I know.

Several weeks later a small, heavy package arrived in the mail. I had almost forgotten about the order until I saw the Cubs logo on the outside of the box. “Max’s brick is here!” I proclaimed. Shannon looked at me a little funny until I explained what I was talking about. I hastily opened the box and pulled out the heavy block. In plain block letters it said 'Max D. Minninger'. “It’s perfect,” I said.

In a few days I received a letter explaining how to find the location at Wrigley field. It is located under the big, red Wrigley Field sign near the new Ernie Banks statue. How cool is that?

So if any of you make the trip to Chicago, and go to a Cubs game, look for the brick with Max’s name on it. (And then ask yourself, “Why didn’t I bring Dan to the game?)

Max's First Mother's Day

2008-05-12T20:27:00.003-04:00

Mother’s Day at our house started out like many other Sunday mornings. Everyone slept in. Of course, by sleeping in I mean when Max wakes up we all get up. I think he made it to 6:30 or 7 o’clock before he was ready for breakfast. I took the dogs out while Shannon fed the baby. He was happy and “talkative” as usual.

I came back in from walking Owen and Foxxy and went in to Max’s room to see how the morning was progressing. Shannon had the baby up on the changing table and was putting on a clean diaper. Swapping clean diapers for dirty ones is getting more tricky as the boy gets bigger. You still have to be ready for a possible “little geyser”, but now he has added kicking legs and twisting to the mix. Sometimes I feel like a ranch hand trying to brand a steer when I change his diapers.

After the diaper change, Max gave his Mom a nice Mother's day card and then had his picture taken with her. We played for a little while and then he slept in his swing. While he was napping I made a big breakfast for Shannon and my Mom. Grampie and GiGi came over after church to eat and spend the afternoon with us.

We all sat down to eat at the kitchen table. (The baby actually sits ON the table in his little Bumbo Seat) We had eggs, bacon, potatoes, biscuits and gravy. Max was apparently hungry, too. He had a bottle, a full jar of carrots and then a bowl of cereal. Wow! The whole time I was thinking “this is going to be bad when it comes out the other end”.

Later that day, Mom, Dad, Max, Foxxy and Owen took a short siesta.

All in all it was a very nice way to spend a Sunday.

It's a big exciting world ...

2008-05-07T20:12:00.003-04:00

Before we had Max I hadn’t really spent much time with babies. Sure I have been around children, but not for any extended period of time. I have casually observed the offspring of friends and relatives grow from newborns into tiny people. This is different. Who knew they were so fascinating? I feel like one of those guys on National Geographic or The Discovery Channel -just quietly observing Max in his natural habitat.

Now that Max’s neck muscles are getting strong enough to support that “coconut” of his, he wants to look at everything. In his chair, in his swing or on the floor his head is on a swivel. The slightest noise and he swings around to see what he is missing.

I particularly like it when he is close enough to grab something. He will hold it just inches from his face and study it very intently. His little brow is furrowed as if he is trying to figure out how it is made. He will twist and pull it. He will shake it and bang it on the floor. When he is satisfied with the quality of workmanship he promptly pops it in his mouth for the taste and moisture test.

Smiling and proud of his new discovery he will hold it up and look at me as if to say, “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” “Why yes, son,” I think, “I have seen one of those before. It is called a drink coaster. Your mother would like it very much if that was under my glass of sweet tea instead of in your mouth.”

I enjoy being a Dad and showing my young son the planet. As he grows I will introduce him to the world as I know it (except soccer). I am going to continue to watch Jeopardy every night so that I will be prepared to answer the inevitable questions that are sure follow.

All Boys!

2008-04-30T20:47:00.034-04:00

April has been a fun filled month at our house. Max enjoyed meeting his Auntie Carole and his cousins Aaron and Meier early in the month and his Auntie Suzanne and his cousins Cole and Nate later in the month. His little face would just beam at his new found friends any time they came near him. And I think the boys liked having a baby cousin in their midst. Aaron said he wanted to teach him to spit, but we told him he might not be ready for that just yet. Although now that he has his first tooth coming in, it probably won't be long!

We thought he might be starting to get a tooth but with dreaded ear infections, it was hard to tell. But sure enough, we started to feel a little bump this past weekend and yesterday it felt like he had a splinter coming out of his gum. He's very proud, biting everything that even comes near his mouth at this point.

He has really enjoyed trying some vegetables this month, too. So far, he's had green beans, squash, peas, and carrots. He likes them all as far as we can tell. We've been trying to teach him a few table manners and not let him put his hands in his food. He frequently looks just like a baby bird sitting in his seat, leaning forward over the lap tray, arms stretched out to the side like wings, and mouth wide open waiting for us to drop in the good stuff.

We sure are enjoying this stage of parenting. We can't wait to come home from work during the week and so look forward to the weekends when we can all be together. Life is good at the Minninger house.

4 Month Stats

2008-04-08T21:13:00.003-04:00

I just had my 4 month check up and I'm a growing boy! I weighed in at 15 pounds and 13 ounces and am 27 inches long. That's in the 80th percentile for weight and 95 percentile for height. And my doctor said I was big enough to start having some cereal, which I think I'm really going to like! I had a little trouble with the whole "spoon" thing but I'm sure I will have the hang of it in no time.

I Confess!

2008-03-11T17:54:00.007-04:00

Well, Dan is out of town this week so I'll make an attempt to post something myself. I might as well tell on myself before Dan can rat me out anyway.

We went to view Max's 3 month photographs at Irwin Photography last week. Dan and I were both really excited about seeing the first professional photographs taken of our baby boy but I guess I hadn't prepared myself for the full experience. Connie, the photographer, has a beautiful studio very well equipped with the latest technology. So, she sat us down in a viewing room, dimmed the lights, put on the pretty music and projected the sweetest photos I've ever seen! Before I knew it, the tears were flowing. Those of you who know me know I've always been easily brought to tears. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive. Maybe I'm still a little hormonal. Maybe I'm a little stressed with Max being sick and requiring breathing treatments. Or maybe I'm just still completely overwhelmed at how much I love this little boy and seeing such amazing images of him is more than I can bear without a little release! Whatever the reason, I wear my bloodshot eyes and tear streaked face with pride. (And maybe it was just a spec of dust, but I think Dan may have had a little something in his eyes, too!)

There are a couple of other photos posted of Max under the "Worth the Wait" post at www.irwinphotography.blogspot.com.

Do babies really like this stuff?

2008-03-01T11:10:00.000-05:00

I am upstairs in the office uploading lullabys and singalongs to iTunes. So far I have input the CD’s “Lullaby Classics” and “Playdate Fun” from Baby Einstein and “Loving Lullabies: 15 Christian Instrumentals” from Cedermont Baby.

“Why on earth are you doing that?” you may ask. I am doing it for two reasons. First, because there is a lot of research that says childrens brains are stimulated by music. Max has an iPod player in his bedroom and I want to fill it with soothing, happy songs. Second, because I do not remember any children songs and I have failed miserably at singing to my son.

Max is becoming very aware of his surroundings. He watches everything and likes to “talk” and interact with people. When you talk and sing to him he becomes very animated. He smiles and coos and kicks his legs. “Great” I thought “I’ll sing him some kiddy songs”.

So I start the first verse of “I’m a Little Teapot”. Now picture this in your head. Max is laying on a blanket on the floor looking up at me. I begin the song “I’m a little teapot, short and stout…” I am doing the arm motions and everything. I get to “here is my handle, here is my spout” and forget the rest. Of course, Max is a baby and he could care less that I am singing “something, something, something, blah, blah, blah”

At that very moment I could hardly remember the words to any song, let alone, one appropriate to sing to my baby boy. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I can just imagine the look on Shannon’s face if she heard me singing “Breaking the Law” by Judas Priest to my impressionable son. I fumbled through the song and entertained Max for the next few minutes. I vowed to be more prepared for my next performance.

So here I sit learning the words to “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Pop goes the Weasel”. This kids stuff is okay. I am determined to work in The Beatles, Stones and maybe some Led Zeppelin too.

A baby can fall asleep listening to U2’s “Joshua Tree” right?

Max in his Lazyboy!

2008-02-29T21:45:00.006-05:00

I Dig This Crazy Kid!

2008-02-22T18:10:00.004-05:00

I want apologize to my readers for not keeping up the blog lately. I know both of you must have been disappointed. The truth is, I have been working a lot and when I get home all I want to do is hang out with my son.

Daycare is going well. I drop Max off around 6:30 in the morning on my way to work. I don’t mind driving him. We have some nice father/son conversations. Naturally, I do all of the talking. Right now it is still dark that early in the morning and I can’t tell if he is really listening. I can only hear Max jabbering in the backseat. (He is probably just mocking me.)

It is just a short drive to the daycare. We can usually make it in about 8-10 minutes. 99% of the time it is uneventful. There have been a couple of cranky mornings when Max needed a pacifier. On those mornings it didn’t take long for me to master the ability to find his pacifier and then his mouth without taking my eyes off the road and still having one hand on the wheel. I might poke him in the eye or the ear, but eventually the pacifier makes it into his mouth. Then he is usually quiet and content until I drop him off.

We did have kind of an exciting morning before daycare this past Wednesday.

It was about 5:30 am and I awoke to the sound of my son screaming and crying. I mean, red faced, losing his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks crying. I hadn’t heard him squall like that since Shannon clipped his finger while trimming his little nails. (That is a whole other story…he was sobbing, Shannon was sobbing…) Max doesn’t usually get upset like that so I hurried into his room to see what was wrong.

“What is the matter?” I said through bloodshot, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know,” said Shannon, “he has a clean diaper, he slept good. I think he is hungry but he won’t eat and I really need to feed him or pump.” I went in the kitchen to warm a bottle for Max so Shannon could “relieve some pressure”. (I don’t know what PSI her chest gets to, but I bet it is pretty high.)

So I am sitting in the chair holding my crying son. His eyes are red and his cheeks are wet from tears. I put the bottle in his mouth and his wailing softens to a sob. After about 20 seconds I hear a rumble in his little tummy. Just then he lets go with a phttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt in his diaper. I could feel the fabric pouch filling against my forearm. It was like the Old Faithful geyser. Within seconds a little odor wafted up to my nose. “Peww!” I said. “Buddy, you stink” . He stopped eating and a big smile came over his face. He was happy for the rest of the day.

If only life were always that simple.

Max Goes to Daycare

2008-02-05T20:35:00.000-05:00

We reached a bittersweet milestone this week at our house. Max went to his first day of daycare.

The day started out like any other. Shannon was feeding our son in his bedroom while I walked the dogs and got ready for work. When Max was done eating, Shannon changed his diaper and got him dressed for his new “school”. He was wearing soft, terry cloth jammies with feet in them. They were red and tan striped with a fuzzy teddy bear patch on the front. It sure would be nice if we could all wear stuff like that to work and school. I bet people would be a lot happier.

When Max and I were both dressed for our day we began packing the supplies he would need at daycare. There were diapers, bottles, baby wipes, diaper cream and a couple changes of clothes (in case they go to a nice restaurant for lunch I guess). I began to wonder how long he would be at this daycare. We loaded the items in a bag and put our darling son into his car seat. Max was in a pretty good mood. If I were a weather man I would say he was mostly sleepy and partly happy. He would likely turn happier as the day went on. As always, there is a good chance of precipitation. Shannon and Max got in her car. Because I was on my way to work, I followed in mine.

Daycare is not what it used to be. Gone are the days of the sweet little old neighbor lady who would keep kids in her home for a few dollars. Now there are rules and regulations. Forms and procedures. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful that they are so careful. You don’t want just anyone to have access to your children. It just feels strange to have to punch codes and keypads to drop your son off at daycare. So, as we were standing at the front door punching in the access code to open it, I expected to see Max’s grandmothers hiding in the bushes ready to “spring him” once the coast was clear. (Neither Alice or Ginny were too fond of putting the little man in daycare) I could just picture them in camouflage, faces blacked out like a couple of Navy SEALs.

By the time we finished dropping off the paperwork, learning the drop off/pick up procedure and talking to Max’s “teacher” Nancy, the poor little guy was almost asleep again. Shannon and I didn’t really want to leave. We just kind of stood there looking down at our cute little baby boy. I was thinking to myself, “I wish I would win the lottery so I could just stay home and hang out with Max”. After what seemed like a half hour (it was really about a minute) we left our son in the capable hands of the daycare staff. There was no crying or whining. Not even from Max.

From what I understand, he slept all morning. His Granny Alice showed up a couple hours later to “check on him” and ended up giving him his bottle. After that, I think Max slept until Shannon picked him up in the early afternoon.

All in all I would consider that a successful first day.

Saturday Morning with Max

2008-01-31T07:45:00.001-05:00

Last Saturday morning, after Shannon had fed him, I put Max in the bathtub. His hands and feet were stinky and his second and third chin smelled like sour milk. He needed a good scrub. I ran warm water in the tub and stripped him naked. I lathered him up and scrubbed him clean. (He especially liked it when I was washing his little feet.) Max is happy in the tub as long as we keep warm water on him.

When I was done bathing him I put a clean diaper on him, greased him up with baby lotion and then put him in a new outfit. “Good as new,” I said. He was smiling from ear to ear.

We both went into the living room to hang out. The older Max gets, the more fun he is to hang out with. He is two months old (after 8 weeks you can start giving their age in months) and he is starting to enjoy “playtime”. Playtime is that magical, yet brief, period between breastfeeding, pooping, burping, baths and napping.

I put a soft blanket on the floor so Max and I could stretch our legs. The TV was playing music videos but we weren’t watching. We listened to the songs and Max would “dance” to the music. He would smile and laugh as I sang along to the lyrics. His favorite video of the morning was the song “Low” by the hip-hop artist Flo Rida (pronounced flow rider). He loves songs about big booty! Of course that is when his mother walked in the room.

“What on earth are you singing with my son?!” Shannon says. “Chill Mom,” I say, “that’s his jam. Max is just trying to get his groove on.”

Long story short. I decided we better stick to singing about the ABC’s.

8 weeks old!

2008-01-23T20:14:00.000-05:00

In just the last couple of days, Max seems to have entered a whole new stage of development. He's starting to interact more, noticing everything. Last night, he actually paid attention when I read him his bedtime story. I'll have him writing book reports before long!

A Million Dollar Smile

2008-01-18T11:18:00.000-05:00

Last night I came home from work a little bit late. When I walked in the house, Shannon was in the kitchen and Max was in his bouncy seat in the living room. I gave Shannon a kiss and walked into the other room to see my baby boy. He was just waking up from a nap. It was just about time for him to eat. He was starting to whimper a little bit.

I got down on the floor, right next to his seat and said “Hi Max!” He turned his wobbly little head towards me and got this big grin on his face. “Do you think he recognizes me or does he just have some gas?” I said to Shannon. “Of course he knows you,” she said. “He loves his Daddy”. She may have been humoring me. All I know is when he smiled at me, everything seemed right with the world.

Now, I love my wife very much. Our marriage is happy and healthy. We are supportive and make a good team. However, even Shannon will admit that being married to me hasn’t always been a bed of roses. I know that you are thinking, that is impossible, but it is true. Being my wife sometimes has its drawbacks. Early on in our marriage we did not “communicate” quite as well. It was only after I established myself as the head of the household that we were able to start working together. (Shannon wasn’t used to dealing with so much “passion”.) I never thought anything could compare to my feelings for Shannon.

Until my baby boy smiled at me.

What a difference six weeks makes!

2008-01-13T12:24:00.000-05:00

I am not sure what started the conversation but last night Shannon chastised me for not taking any video of our son. Out of the blue she blurted out, “Have you been taking any movies of our son?” “We will be sorry in a few years when we forget how sweet and cute he is right now,” she followed. “I WEAR THE PANTS IN THIS FAMILY AND I WILL DECIDE WHAT AND WHEN I VIDEOTAPE!” I said. Of course, when the words actually left my mouth it sounded more like “yes, maam”. The truth is, although I have not filmed his every movement, I have done my fair share of taping. So when Shannon was putting Max down for the night I hooked the handycam up to the computer. I wanted to download and save what I had recorded. There were several small segments from Max’s entire life (so far). Until you see the images side by side like that, it is hard to believe how much Max has changed.

There is a short clip of Max the day after he was born. His Aunt Donna is holding him. His skin is wrinkly and pink and he is bundled up like a “baby burrito”. Fast forward a few weeks and we see little Max sitting on his GiGi’s lap in the library. He is smiling and looking around. You can tell it is the same baby, but WOW. He is growing so fast.

The other night I came home from work and Max was in the living room kicked back in his recliner ( aka bouncy seat). He was wearing a pair of light blue, footy jammies. As I stood there smiling down at him, something looked a little odd. “I know what you’re thinking…his clothes are getting a little small for him already” Shannon said. “Small?” I thought “if he raises his arms his little legs bend”. We better try a bigger size. “Four days ago the legs were too long” I said. Maybe we should stick to things that are open ended. I don’t want to stunt his growth.

If I can figure out how, I will post some video to the blog. You will see what I mean. For now you will have to live with pictures.

Wow! Five Weeks Old!

2008-01-04T09:59:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe that Max is five weeks old already. Like they say, “Time flies when you’re having fun.” We sure have been having fun with him. It seems our baby has been smiling since he came home from the hospital. (I suspect some of that has been indigestion.) Like all southern babies he will “pitch a fit” now and again but, for the most part, he is a happy little fella. Hungry, too!

While Shannon was pregnant we had several discussions about breastfeeding versus formula feeding. There are pros and cons to both. I can’t say that we feel super strong either way. Ultimately the health benefits and cost made our decision easy. If Shannon was capable of nursing, we should at least give it a try. Besides, I was afraid that if we didn’t the La Leche League (or Boob Nazi’s as I call them) would protest in front of our house.

Cheaper has certainly turned out to be beneficial. Max eats like a champ. His table manners leave a lot to be desired, though. He squeaks and moans and grunts while he is breastfeeding. It borders on obscene. Shannon says “I can’t possible feed this kid in public”. We’ll have to work on that.

We have known all along that Max would go to daycare and Shannon would return to work. Shannon has been pumping and storing breast milk for when that happens. Watching my wife nurse my son is beautiful and natural. Opening the fridge to get a Pepsi and seeing bags and bottles of my wife’s milk is not. Don’t get me wrong, I am not repulsed or anything, just a little freaked out. I know that it is necessary. I also knew that we would have to make the boob to bottle transition soon.

I gave him his first bottle last Saturday. We were more than a little concerned. Everything we have read suggested that it would be difficult and it is important that he take a bottle. We asked the pediatrician about it. Dr. Wiley said that breastfed babies can be pretty particular. “Just try an ounce or so and see if he accepts it,” said the doctor.

So, we sterilize the bottles and nipples. Then we debated on which type, size, nipple and amount of milk we should try. “I read that it helps if the mother isn’t in the room when you try to introduce a bottle,” said Shannon. “No problem,” I said. “Just don’t get too far away in case we need a boob transfusion”.

It is a good thing Shannon was just in the other room. Max took that first ounce of milk like it was a shot of tequila. I was left sitting there with an empty bottle and a hungry, crying baby. “Shannon, you better bring me some more milk in a hurry!” I shouted. She came in with another bottle full of milk. Like the gas man in the NASCAR pit crew, I popped the empty one out and popped in the full one. Success.

Christmas with Baby Max

2007-12-26T14:10:00.001-05:00

He is just a month old and already has his first Christmas under his belt. For the most part it was a typical Minninger holiday weekend. Very low key. I don’t think our family will ever be compared to the Griswold’s at Christmas. Not that we don’t have our traditions.

Shannon and I always begin the Christmas holiday by taking a drive to look at houses all decorated with Christmas lights. We get into the car and load the cd player with all of our seasonal favorites. I like the Elvis Christmas cd the best. Depending on the weather we will get coffee and hot chocolate. Then we drive all over Chattanooga neighborhoods looking for festive displays.

This year we took our son. He got all bundled up in his favorite jammies and then we put him in his car seat. I could see the anticipation in his eyes as we loaded him into the backseat of the car. In fact, Max was so overcome with excitement that he fell asleep before we left the driveway. I’m sure he’ll appreciate more in the next few years.

Christmas Eve is always spent at Shannon’s Mom’s house. Shannon’s brother, sisters and their families meet at Granny Alice’s for nachos, chili, hotdogs and presents. It is always a good time. Max got dressed up in his best Christmas outfit. He wanted to make a good first impression on the family members he hadn’t met yet. Plus, he has a reputation to uphold as the adorable new grandbaby.

He was very well behaved. Max fell asleep on the ride over and then didn’t wake up for two hours. (Shannon and I even had to open his presents for him.) He wasn’t very social when he first woke up either, because he was very hungry. Shannon took him in the other room and “topped him off” and changed his diaper. When they emerged from the bedroom he was ready to visit with relatives. We laid him on a quilt in the middle of the floor. Max smiled and babbled and kicked his little legs while his Granny, Auntie Jill and Momma hovered over him. “What a ham,” I thought. Before long it was time for everybody to head home.

Later that night Max had trouble going to sleep. I think he was too excited about Santa Claus coming to town. That’s okay. He and I sat on the couch together and watched the movie “Elf” starring Will Ferrell. It’s one of Max’s favorites. Mine too.

On Christmas morning it is tradition for Shannon and I to get up early, make some coffee and start a fire. (I actually just flip a switch on the gas logs.) Then we open our Christmas stockings and presents. This year was an exception. There were very few presents under the tree. Shannon and I decided that having a happy, healthy baby boy was enough of a gift. We spent most of the morning talking about what it will be like when Max is old enough to get excited about Santa and toys. I can’t wait. For the record I bought Shannon “the clapper” as a present.

Because my parents are out of town, Shannon, Max and I spent the rest of Christmas day in “comfy” clothes watching movies. I made French toast and bacon for breakfast. We had pigs in a blanket for a snack. That night I grilled steaks and made twice baked potatoes. (Max had boobs for all three meals.) It was the perfect way to spend a day as a new family.

Generally, after opening presents in the morning, Shannon and I would relax a couple of hours and then head to GiGi and Grampie’s for a big Christmas dinner. (by relax I mean eat breakfast and go back to bed) “Uncle” Dick and “Aunt” Nancy are always there. It is fun to have a big meal and then sit around and play games or talk over coffee. This year Grampie and GiGi went to Florida to visit Carole and the boys. We are going to celebrate when they get back. I can taste the standing rib roast already. (My mouth is watering.) I know Max is eager to see his grandparents. I would be willing to bet there are some hugs, kisses and gifts in his immediate future.

Next week is New Years Eve! I’ll bet we get crazy and party ‘till the wee hours of 10 PM.

Max's First Bath!

2007-12-18T16:05:00.000-05:00

We gave Max his first “real” bath on Sunday afternoon. His mother had wiped him down a couple of times, but this was the first time he would get the full treatment. Shannon was worried how he would react. I may have mentioned before that Max doesn’t seem to like being naked. (He gets that from his mother.) Like any new mom, she doesn’t want to see her baby upset. I, on the other hand, have been dying to give the kid a bath since I watched him being born. Sure he looks and smells clean, but I saw how dirty his apartment was before he moved in with us. Of course, we had to wait until his umbilical “stump” fell off and healed. With that accomplished, it was time for a proper scrub.

First thing I had to do was decide where this delicate dance would take place. My options were the kitchen sink, the bathtub or the sink in the bathroom next to the nursery. I hadn’t finished cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast, so I ruled that out. (Of course, I briefly considered how I could wash the baby and the skillet at the same time.) I settled on the bathroom sink.

Like the child care books recommend, I got out everything we would need and put it in arms reach of the sink. I put a couple of towels on the counter next to the sink. I didn’t know how much water we were going to have to wipe up. I could easily see this thing getting out of hand. All I need now was a baby and a video camera.

I filled up the sink and put in some Johnson's baby shampoo while Shannon took off Max’s clothes. When she was ready to lower him into the water, I grabbed the video camera. I wanted to make sure and record his first bath for posterity. That and so I can embarrass him as a teenager.

As we predicted, he was not very happy about being naked and wet. He began to squirm and fuss. Shannon tenderly let me know that she was having trouble holding our slippery son, and that I should put down the camera and help her. I took Max’s head and neck in my left hand and hooked my thumb under his arm. It was like trying to hold a catfish one handed. I gently washed his head and body with a washcloth. I thought I was doing a great job because his cry dulled to a whimper. It was then I noticed the stream of pee shooting out of the water. It had to be a foot higher than the counter. I cupped my right hand and attempted to block the spray from getting everywhere. All I could think was “This is the kind of stuff that should be on the video.” Shannon wrapped him in a towel while I drained and refilled the sink. I put him back in the water and rinsed him off. To my surprise he didn’t fuss when I slowly poured warm water over his head.

When I was done, we dried him off and then greased him up like a bodybuilder. I put a fresh diaper on him and then some tiny, footie jammies with a puppy on them. He smelled and looked fresh and clean. I swear he was smiling at me. I held him in my arms and declared, “First bath complete.”

It was at that moment I felt him poop his diaper.

Touchdown!

2007-12-15T20:20:00.000-05:00

Living with a new baby in the house is definitely different. For months our friends and family (even total strangers) have been warning us how much our life would change. “Oh, just wait” they would say. They were right about it changing. It’s great! In the morning I don’t want to leave and at night I can’t wait to get home from work. I am amazed at my feelings for little Max.

I love to hold him at night while we watch TV. Last night we watched some mixed martial arts. We discussed the strengths and weaknesses of various fighters as they entered the octagon. I explained how it really helps when they have a strong wrestling background. He just stared at me blankly. (Funny, that’s the same thing his mother does when I watch Ultimate Fighting with her.)

I love they way he can sit there quietly with a diaper full of poop and then scream his head off while I change him. Apparently messy and stinky is better than clean and naked. That’s okay because I am super fast at changing a diaper. I look like a rodeo cowboy in the calf rope competition. I should get Shannon to start timing me.

I love the way he smells. The kid hasn’t taken a bath since we brought him home from the hospital and he still smells sweet and cuddly. I go a day without a shower and I smell like an old shoe.

I love the way he looks while he is sleeping in his crib. At first he is kind of “squirmy” but then he settles down. You can tell when he is asleep because he puts his arms over his head like he is signaling for a touchdown. I hope that is a sign that he will be a great football player and not that he is planning on being a referee.

I love to watch him fall asleep in his mother’s arms while he is nursing. He looks so peaceful with his tiny arms and legs dangling. He is warm and safe. Shannon looks pretty content herself. I’m sure glad we outgrow the ability to eat and nap at the same time.

I’m crazy about this kid and eager to see what the future brings.

Happy Two Week Birthday!

2007-12-13T14:18:00.000-05:00

We had our check up today and our Little Charmer is up to just over 9 pounds. Even the pediatrician says he's perfect!

Look at that face! It's all we can do to put him down for even a second. He's sooo sweet!

Max and his paternal grandparents ...

2007-12-06T11:52:00.000-05:00

Max is very lucky to have his Gigi and Grampie living close by! And with four male cousins, he should have lots of playmates when this side of the family gets together. He's counting on Meier, Aaron, Nate and Cole to teach him all their favorite games. And his Autie Carole, Auntie Suz and Uncle Rob may not have met him in person yet, but they're sending their love in heaps. And Max is hoping they can all come to visit from their various locations as soon as possible.

Life as a new Mom ...

2007-12-05T14:10:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, I never write! I’m sorry but if you had a husband who wrote like Dan, you’d hesitate to write to. Isn’t he wonderful? Many of you have commented about how great his entries are and I completely agree. I love reading them and am so thankful for his ability to appropriately share much of what we are going through. I seem to become little more than a sobbing mess when I even try to put my feelings into words these days.

However, sometimes a mother’s perspective is required.

First of all, Max was born on November 28 at 6:07 by cesarean section. He weighed in a 8 pounds 5 ounces and was 21.3 inches long. His head evidently was a little larger than most at 14 centimeters, as the nurses taking all the vitals double checked their measurements a couple of times before committing them to fact.

Max and I both are doing great. I feel wonderful (all things considered) and have really had minimal discomfort. The IV was the worst of the entire delivery process and while I’m moving a little slower than usual, I’m pretty much up and about as usual. The nighttime routine hasn’t bothered me too much. I’m not a great sleeper to begin with so getting up for an hour or two a couple of times a night, hasn’t left me feeling all that tired. It’s kind of normal for me to do that anyway. The nursing thing is going surprisingly well, too. I just can’t do it without getting naked. So, until I figure that one out, I guess I’ll be confined to Max’s room. Dan has said that it just won’t do for me to take my shirt off in the Outback or any other restaurant that we would frequent. Oh, well, I guess Dan will just keep getting some good practice sessions in the kitchen to pass along to Max someday.

Max has a very agreeable disposition so far. The only time he cries is when we’re changing his diaper. He HATES that. Otherwise, he sleeps peacefully, and patiently waits on me to feed him, then lies awake and alert for a short time usually filled with some meaningful conversation with his Daddy who is promising to teach him to play all kinds of sports, to learn all sorts of useless trivia (that came up during Jeopardy) and to cook because chicks dig it. (And when Dan says “chicks” he really means moms since we all know that my son is not going to be worried about impressing any silly girls for a long, long time!)

Now, let the faucets run as I write how truly overwhelmed with joy and happiness I am. I knew that having a child would be unlike anything else I had ever experienced. And I know the adage that you’re never given anything more than you can handle, but honestly, I always thought about that phrase in terms of dealing with negative things. I never dreamed I’d have to worry about being dealt more of a good thing than I can handle. I feel like I’m close to the edge, though. As if the birth of a completely healthy baby boy wasn’t enough, the sweetness and love of my husband for both him and me has completely taken me aback. Dan is just amazing and I cannot begin to express how this experience has strengthened what I already believed was a pretty strong relationship. Then, there’s all the love and support of our families as we have entered this new phase of our lives. They’ve all been so kind and helpful and we all know that sometimes family dynamics can be a little challenging in the face of stressful situations but everyone has made such an effort to be non-intrusive while we have tried to include them as much as possible in this joyous occasion. And of course, we have been shown incredible generosity by our friends in their desire to be encouraging and supportive. We honestly could not have made it through this experience nearly so well adjusted without all of you. Thank you all from the bottom of our hearts.

Enough of my babbling for now. Trust that I will be making sure that Dan keeps up the good work on the blog and I’ll post occasionally, too. Maybe after some of the hormones return to more normal levels, I’ll even be able to do so without going through an entire box of Kleenex!

Life as a new Dad ...

2007-12-05T09:56:00.000-05:00

We brought Max home from the hospital on Saturday afternoon. Shannon and I were excited and scared at the same time. For three days nurses and doctors hovered over our new baby like hawks. The checked vital signs and monitored him. They made sure all his needs were met. They would one by one remind us of the cardinal rules of child care. “Don’t ever shake the baby,” one nurse would say. An hour later another nurse would be in the room for something and she would say, “Don’t ever sleep in the bed with the baby and do NOT leave him alone for any reason”. At shift change, another batch of nurses would continue to point out things that I considered obvious. “They have already mentioned not shaking the baby, right?”. I would just nod my head. “What about fireworks?” I always wanted to ask. “Is it okay if he holds the roman candles while I light them?” (I’m not sure they would have appreciated my sarcasm.) I find it ironic that none of them ever mention useful tips like preparing for the stream of pee that comes flying out just as you reach for a clean diaper. Then, before you can really grasp the concept of having this little person who is solely dependent on you, they send you away.

So, anxious and eager we bring little Max to his new home.

The last four days have been terrifying and wonderful. I can’t believe how much you can love someone you have known for less than a week. I don’t want to put him down or leave him alone. At night, I just stand there looking in his crib, watching him sleep. I want very badly to take him to bed with us but I remember what all of those nurses said.

Max is eating well and his digestive system is working perfect. Trust me. My favorite part of the day is holding him right after he has eaten and had his diaper changed. He is awake and alert. His eyes looking up at me. It is this father/ son time we use to discuss his future. “Grampie would like you to play football at Notre Dame but I was hoping for rugby at the Naval Academy,” I say. He just stares at me. I don’t think he has settled on a college yet.

I love being a dad.

Max and his maternal family!

2007-12-03T17:02:00.000-05:00

His Granny Alice...

His Aunt Donna ...
His Aunt Kerrie ...
His Uncle Brian and Aunt Jill ...

His proud Dad with his cousins, Allison and Daniel ...

More Max

2007-11-30T14:44:00.000-05:00

You and me and the baby makes three

2007-11-30T13:52:00.000-05:00

I have officially been a Dad for about 42 hours. I have enjoyed every minute of it.

Yesterday was a good day. I didn't sleep all night after the birth. I had to keep looking at Max to see if he was okay. I can't help. He is just so darn quiet when he sleeps.

Anyway, even though I had been awake for more than 24 hours, I wasn't tired. It was an adventure I didn't want to miss a minute of. I've changed diapers (even the ones that looked like roofing tar in the beginning), been peed on and spit up on. You know what? I don't care.

Last night Shannon sent me home to get some rest. I wasn't crazy about leaving but one of us needs to be alert when we get to take him home. Her sister Donna volunteered to stay the night and keep an eye on them. She even gave me an Ambien pill to help me fall asleep. It is a good thing I waited until I got home to take it. Within a minute or two, I was stumbling around the house like a bear shot with a tranquilizer dart. I flopped on the bed and didn't move for 10 hours. I don't think I want to take any more of those. (Next time I'll just have the game warden shoot me in the neck.)

This morning I woke up a little loopy but couldn't wait to get back to my family.

Shannon and Max are doing great. It won't be long before I can take them home.

Thanks to everyone who has come by to visit us at the hospital and/or left nice messages. We are lucky to have such great friends and family.

3 AM

2007-11-29T02:56:00.000-05:00

It is 3 AM. Max, Shannon and I are all awake. It is cool, dark and quiet. We are content to just sit here as a family.

I know we should get some rest. It will be another long day.

I figure I might as well get used to staying up.

The main attraction

2007-11-28T23:06:00.000-05:00

D-Day (the invasion)

2007-11-28T23:04:00.000-05:00

2:50PM

Shannon and I got to the hospital a few minutes ago. We are in the room already. It is just the two of us. The lights are off so it is kind of dim. We didn’t turn the TV on so we could relax and talk. It is cool, quiet and peaceful. This is a nice way to start the event. I am glad we have this alone time.

4:45PM

So much for alone time. I wouldn’t say it has been a beehive of activity but there are a couple of nurses hovering. A few minor hiccups with the IV, but nothing too scary. The doctor called to say he was running a little behind. We are looking at 5:30 for the procedure. Shannon is handling the whole situation very well. I can’t say the same for our Moms. I was handling things pretty well until they brought me my “gear” for surgery. Now I am a little dizzy.

5:30PM

The doctor comes in to check on Shannon and briefly goes over the plan. I am instructed to “suit up” and follow the nurses as they wheel Shannon down the hall towards the operating room. We meet the anesthesiologist as we walk. He explains the procedure for giving my wife her “spinal”. They make clear that I will have to wait outside as Shannon is prepared for the c-section. When the procedure is ready to start they will come out and get me.

5:50PM

I am sitting alone in the hallway outside OR 6. This area of the hospital is dark and deserted. Only a few fluorescent bulbs shed light on the shiny sterile floor. It is very quiet. I don’t think I have ever felt so isolated. I take this moment to say a silent prayer.

5:55 PM

The door opens and the nurse sticks her head out. We are ready for you now. The OR is very bright in stark contrast to the dim hallway. I am quickly ushered to a small chair by my wife’s left shoulder. A white drape blocks my view of anything but Shannon’s face. She smiles at me peacefully. I ask her if she feels okay. “Fine,” she says. “No problem at all”. I think she looks beautiful.

6:07

Dr. Ellison, the anesthesiologist, looks at me and says “stand up!...quick”. I stand and look at him. He just points over the sheet draped across my wife’s shoulders. I turn just in time to see the doctor pull my son from Shannon’s abdomen. It was fascinating.

In a blur of activity he is flipped and flopped, suctioned and cleaned. All the while I am trying to look at him. He is blue in color. “two arms, two legs…” I am surveying in my head. Two women sweep him up and take him to the warming table. He starts to cry. They tell me to come over and see my new son.

As I look down I see this chubby, pink little baby. He is shivering and wailing. I must have gotten something in my eyes when I walked over because tears were rolling down my cheeks.

I looked over to smile at my wife. I could see her blue eyes looking at me as the surgical staff worked feverously to sew her up. “You make a pretty baby,” I say to her.

6:30PM

We are in the recovery room.

Welcome to the world Max Daniel Minninger.

D-Day (pre-planning)

2007-11-28T08:04:00.000-05:00

Today is the day!! I can't believe it. I don't think I have ever been this anxious. Shannon and I are finishing up a few things around the house before we head to the hospital. (Sure is nice to have the birth of your child scheduled)

We went to the hospital yesterday afternoon to get pre-registered for the cesarean section. It was an interesting experience. The pre-registration mainly consists of Shannon givng blood, having her blood pressure checked and then hooking her belly up to a moniter to listen to the baby's heartbeat. Everything checked out.

While Shannon laid there getting "monitored" the nurse was asking her questions. The questions started out innocent enough. "Name?" "Date of birth?" etc. After about twenty minutes the questions became more and more personal. "Have you ever had a sexually transmitted disease?" said the nurse. My ears perked up. "Wow, she is asking questions I would never have the nerve to ask," I thought. Then the questions got better. "Have you ever had an abusive relationship?" "Have you ever been in a Girls Gone Wild video?" and on and on. After almost fourteen years of marriage I learned a lot about my wife in one thirty minute hospital interrogation. (I'm just glad they weren't asking me questions)

The question and answer session was followed by a meeting with the anesthesiologist and then a run down of the procedures by a nurse. It was all very informative. Of course it has not kept me from doing my own research into the c-section. The etymology of Cesarean is Latin. Cesar meaning "salad" and Arean meaning "Oh my gosh! What are you doing to my wife?".

So now we are all set to go to the hospital and have a baby. Shannon has been a real trooper through this whole process. She seems cool and collected. I, on the other hand, am wringing my hands.

For my wife's sake I will stay strong.

No More Silent Night(s)

2007-11-24T14:43:00.000-05:00

It is the beginning of the holiday season. Thanksgiving was a couple of days ago and Christmas is right around the corner. Our early Christmas present is scheduled to be here at 5pm on Wednesday, November 28th. How convenient it is to know when and where your baby will be delivered. (Those of you who know Shannon wouldn't have expected anything less!)

Because of the imminent addition to our family, I broke my own rule and put up our Christmas decorations before the Thanksgiving weekend. (I figured we might be short on time after this week.) Normally I would not waver on this. I am firm believer that the holiday does not officially begin until after Thanksgiving. In turn, Thanksgiving does not begin until after Halloween. Anyway, putting up the tree and lights started the conversation about holiday traditions. Over the last week and a half, Shannon and I have been discussing what yearly customs we had as kids and which ones we would like to carry over to our new family. We both have had a great time reminiscing.

Shannon and I have been married for almost fourteen years now and we have established some of our own rituals. As I said before, we don’t put up our decorations until after Thanksgiving. We spend Christmas Eve at Shannon’s Mom’s house. We spend Christmas morning together at our house and then drive up to my parent’s house. Those are the biggies. Some lesser events have been piling in the car with coffee and hot chocolate and driving around big neighborhoods looking at Christmas lights or going to downtown Chattanooga for the Christmas on the River celebration.

Christmas on the River is a free event put on by the city. There is a live nativity scene, music, food and a parade of boats all decorated for Christmas. At the end of the evening Santa shows up and there are fireworks. These things always help me get into the Christmas spirit. My favorite part has to be watching all of the people who come into the city for the affair. I love to sit among the crowd and take in the sights and smells.

Over the years I have learned a few things. Rednecks will drive a long way for a free event like this. That is because rednecks love Baby Jesus, funnel cakes, Christmas lights and cigarettes. On more than one occasion I have seen a young mother, Marlboro Red dangling from her lip, tell her children to sit their “GD” butts down while a Christmas carol plays in the background. Almost brings a tear to my eye. (There is a country music song in there somewhere).

Don’t get me wrong, the majority of the crowd is made up of smiling, joyful families. There are moms, dads, grandparents and friends. They sit arm and arm happily listening to the seasonal songs. People smile to say “Merry Christmas” to each other. No one is fighting over their place in line or wrestling over the latest toy. It is a great way to spend an evening.

The bottom line is that I love this time of year. I can’t wait to share some memories and traditions with my son, my wife, my family and my friends.

Countdown to Baby

2007-11-21T19:00:00.000-05:00

Shannon had a doctor’s appointment yesterday to check the progress of the boy. He is getting bigger and more active by the minute. We have all been wondering when he would decide his “apartment” is too small and move to his new place. The boy is approaching, if not past, the nine pound mark. Shannon’s belly has grown larger than a basketball. From the side, it looks as if she is shoplifting a beach ball. In fact, the doctor said during her checkup, “You either need to have this baby or I need to buy a bigger tape measure.” The problem is Shannon is showing no signs of approaching labor. The baby is still riding high and her cervix is tighter than a submarine hatch.

Because of the baby’s size, the doctor has some concerns about labor. (So does Shannon!) He does not want the pregnancy to progress too far and the boy to get precariously big. If she goes all the way to her original due date the boy could weigh well over ten pounds. More if she goes past, this is common for first time mothers.

Dr. Mills decided the best course of action might be to schedule a cesarean delivery for Wednesday, November 28th. I think this is best. Although, I have to admit, part of me would like Shannon to go for the world record of “Biggest Baby”. She could make the cover of The Enquirer or get on Maury Povich. Who knows, maybe even a Lifetime made for TV movie starring Tori Spelling or Meredith Baxter Birney. (Painful Record: The Shannon Minninger Story)

So, unless anything happens between now and then, we will be having a baby on Wednesday, November 28th.

How nice to have something scheduled.

Things that don't fit into another post.

2007-11-13T21:50:00.000-05:00

I have a couple of funny instances to tell that don't quite fit into another post.

Yesterday my wife and I stopped at a Chik-fil-a resturant for lunch. She ordered a box of chicken nuggets. When she was eating them she accidentally dropped one on the floor and started to cry. It wasn't until just a minute ago that I learned she really was crying about the nugget. I thought she was kidding. Hormones are crazy!

Last Friday while we were at the doctors office for her checkup the nurse led us to the exam room. Before closing the door, she said "undress from the waist down so the Doctor can examine you". I told Shannon it would be funny if I took my pants off, too. When Doctor Mills opened the door I could have said "Oh...you meant her?"

We decided against it.

Party Time!

2007-11-13T21:49:00.001-05:00

Many of the people who read this blog have been to at least one social event at our house. Maybe it was one of the “legendary” Cinco de Mayo parties Shannon and I hosted over the years. Frozen margarita machines flowing, gallons of tequila consumed, house and yard full of friends, neighbors and acquaintances.

Or, maybe you were at our last New Years Eve “Martini party”. You know, the one that went until 4 am. We went through about 12 large bottles of vodka. The next morning Shannon was upset that we didn’t sing “Auld Lang Syne” at midnight. (That is until she got the party photos back and realized we did.) Following these events, that is after partying most of the night and then cleaning the house the next day, I would have categorized myself as tired.

That has nothing on a wild weekend of baby showers.

I was not fortunate enough to actually attend the shower on Saturday. It was held at my Mother’s house. The guest list included female family members and close female family friends. I was not on that guest list. My primary duty was “pack mule”. I was instructed to show up near the very end of the festivities to load the shower gifts into my car. Judging by the “wild” look in everybody’s eyes when I arrived, I missed quite a blowout. (It could be that they were just hopped up on pastel colored icing). I spent the next 45 minutes or so carrying armfuls of little bags decorated with babies, storks, balloons and curly ribbon out to my car.

Sunday, on the other hand, was my day to shine. We had a couples shower at a downtown bookstore! I could hardly sleep the night before in anticipation. I felt like an eight year old on Christmas Eve. “Somebody pinch me,” I was thinking.

The couples shower started at 1:00 PM Sunday afternoon. Shannon and I arrived about 12:50. It was a very neat place. I had driven by several times but, I had never been inside before.(I know what you’re thinking… “Dan, never been in this bookstore? I don’t believe it!”). The store was inside one of the old brick buildings in downtown Chattanooga. I am sure it had been a factory or warehouse at some point in the last 100 years.

There was a nice little area set up in the back for the baby shower. I walked over and looked around. Some chairs, and a cake. Finger food and decorations. All of it with a children’s book theme. Then I noticed the best part - a stage with a bench and spotlight, several shower gifts surrounding it. All I could think was “Awesome, this will be just like dinner theater!” I beamed with excitement. We all know how much I love dinner theater.

As friends trickled in, Shannon and I answered many baby questions. Some people asked about our level of preparedness. Others wanted to know about a name for the baby or daycare plans. I was mostly just happy that the focus of the conversations was on how big Shannon’s belly had gotten rather than how big mine had grown. Before long, my wife and I were ushered to the bench on the small stage. It was time to open gifts.

I sat on the small wooden bench smiling out at our dear friends. At least I think I was looking at our friends. The white hot spot lights had burned out my retinas. Plus, I was sweating like a thief in a police line up. “Stay focused,” I told myself. Shannon would read the card and announce who had given the gift. I had the very important job of digging through the mountains of tissue paper and holding up the present for all to see. When I had given the appropriate amount of “ooohs” or “aaaahs”, I moved on to the next package. Before long, we were done. I spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the diverse shower guests. It was easy to relax once the pressure of sitting center stage was off. All in all, it was a pretty pleasant day.

On Monday I took the day off of work. I thought I would take a day to recuperate before heading back to the office. I was wrong. It turns out the real reason I wanted the day off was to go shopping. Because I make most of the decisions in the house, I decided not to waste this time “lollygagging” around the house. I should first make a list of the things we still needed for the baby and then create a plan for acquiring those items quickly. Once the items were purchased I should get home and organize, assemble and/or install them.

It is now Monday evening and I am exhausted.

I would sincerely like to thank everybody involved in the planning and preparation of these baby showers. Mom, Alice, Carole, Jill, Amanda and Allison on Saturday. Nathalie, Becky, Beth, Jessica on Sunday. We are very lucky to have such great family and friends. You have helped make this exciting time in our lives more enjoyable.

I am also glad that I had the chance to see so many close friends over the weekend. Thank you for your kind words and thoughtful gifts. As a token of my appreciation, you will all get a chance to baby sit in the near future.

Fixin'

2007-11-02T17:00:00.000-04:00

As they say in the south, my wife is fixin’ to pop.

Shannon had another doctor’s appointment and ultrasound yesterday. I took a late lunch and went with her to the doctor’s office. I have not been to the last couple of appointments and thought it was time I got an update on my progeny.

The appointment was at 2:00 PM. We arrived in the waiting room around 1:50. The place was empty except for a teenage girl and her mom. The mom had big, bleached hair and was wearing skin tight jeans. The shoes she had on were the kind designed to be worn while twirling around a pole. “I wonder which one is pregnant,” was my first thought.

Shannon signed in and I headed towards an uncomfortable chair. No sooner had I begun to thumb through a stack of old parenting magazines, when the door opened. “Shannon,” the nurse said. Wow, that was fast. I didn’t even have time to read an article about making your own organic baby food. (I always find it funny that the same magazines that promote a “greener” lifestyle also advertise $150 jeans for a two year old.)

So I follow my wife down the hallway towards the ultrasound room. “Is it okay if I give my urine sample first?” Shannon says. “I really need to go”. The ultrastenographer says that would be fine. “Just bring the cup in the ultrasound room when you are done so it won’t get mixed up with someone else’s sample,” she says. So, Shannon goes into the bathroom and I follow the young woman into the ultrasound room.

I am just sitting there patiently waiting for Shannon to finish in the bathroom. There is an uncomfortable silence. I am tempted to hop up on the table and ask her to scan my belly and see what’s in there. I make my way over to the “husband” chair. It is a small, hard folding chair, crammed in the corner. (Similar to the “husband” chairs found outside of department store women’s dressing rooms.) In a minute in two, Shannon walks in and promptly places a Dixie cup full of her urine on the counter just inches in front of me. “Hello, I’m sitting right here!” I think to myself.

My pregnant wife wrestles herself up on the exam table, lays back and pulls up her shirt to reveal her tummy. The ultrastenographer squirts a big wad of jelly on the summit of Mount Minninger. As she moves the wand back and forth across my wife’s midsection we all stare at the flickering screen. “There is the face and a leg and the heart” says the woman. “Oh, and he is definitely still a boy”. Exactly like the last two ultrasounds, I don’t recognize any of those fuzzy, grey shapes as actual body parts. “Look, you can see hair on his head!” she says. She is just making stuff up to torment me now.

We finish the ultrasound and the results are recorded in Shannon’s file. The nice lady shows us to another exam room to wait on Doctor Mills. When we are alone, Shannon remarks about looking at the baby on ultrasound. (So now even my wife is mocking the fact that I can’t make “heads or tails” of the image). When the doctor comes in he is relaxed and smiling. He casually flips through the chart and asks how Shannon is feeling. “Great,” she blurts out. He says that everything looks good and the baby is healthy and growing. “He is six and a half pounds right now." “If you go full term he would probably be nine pounds or better.”

Shannon expresses some concern over the size of the boy. The doctor responds by saying, “You should have taken that into consideration when you chose such a big man as the father of your baby.” (Touché Dr. Mills.) He then says not to worry. In a week or so he will be fully developed. There is no reason to go all the way to your original due date. “You could go into labor at any time.” In fact, he says we will be lucky to make it past Thanksgiving without him inducing labor. No reason to wait longer than we have to.

So, in just a few short weeks we will have a bouncing baby boy.

I need a nap.

Ignorance is Bliss

2007-10-24T15:27:00.000-04:00

Shannon and I attended our Labor and Delivery Class at the hospital last Saturday morning. Because she is planning on having an epidural at the first sign of discomfort, Shannon and I elected to take the one day overview, as opposed to the five weeks' worth of Lamaze classes. The brief (seven hour) course is designed to let couples know what to expect during labor and delivery. We covered topics such as: how to tell when you are really in labor, where to go when you get to the hospital, and what will happen once you are there.

The class was scheduled from 8:30AM to 3:30PM. (Of course the Tennessee vs. Alabama football game kicked off at 12:30PM) We arrived right at 8:30 AM and the class promptly began at 8:45(ish). There were five other couples in class with us. One couple and one woman had been in our last class. They were Dagwood and Blondie and Single Mom. Single Mom’s husband, Absent Man was now wearing the disguise of his alter ego, Redneck Guy. The new couples were Rosie Perez and Baby Daddy, Young Girl and Sensitive Boy and Average Couple.

The instructor began by asking all of the couples to introduce themselves. Then we should tell how far along we are in the pregnancy and why we took the class. Baby Daddy, Redneck Guy, Dagwood and Average all said that their wives made them come. Sensitive Boy (with a tear in his eye and lip quivering) said he was there to show his wife love and support. I said that Shannon and I had spent so many years avoiding pregnancy that now that it has happened, we might as well know what we were in for.

The next question by the instructor was “How many of you planned your pregnancy?” We all raised our hands except Baby Daddy (big shocker). This was followed with a small lecture on staying healthy while pregnant. At some point all of the husbands were required to wear an empathy belly. For those of you who don’t know, an empathy belly is a weighted vest that men can put on to give them the “sense” of being pregnant. Because I am not a small man, it didn’t make much of an impression on me. I was already familiar with the concepts of breathlessness, and discomfort sitting, standing or bending over. Redneck Man said that he could understand how this condition could make it more difficult to mop or vacuum. How lucky is his wife?

I won’t bore you with all of the humdrum details of the class. I will only hit the highlights. The main attraction had to be the video tapes we watched. There was one of a natural birth, one of a woman who had an epidural and finally a film of a C-section. I had seen a version of these at least once before in school and on the Discovery Channel. My wife, on the other hand, had not.

The first video was of a natural childbirth. The film opens by introducing us to the couple who are having a baby. They are so happy about a natural childbirth. They even went for a hike in the woods before going to the hospital. Ahhhhhh how pleasant it must be. I think Sensitive Boy was already starting to cry.

Shannon is sitting to my left, almost behind me. She is holding my hand loosely and resting her head gently on my shoulder. The room is quiet except for the video. As the documentary progresses we see the woman experiencing labor. Hours of labor. Hours of moaning and groaning and pacing. My wife is no longer a casual observer. She is engrossed in the tape. Her head isn’t resting on my shoulder anymore... it's completely behind me. Her eyes wide, barely peeking over me. I know she doesn’t want to see what comes next, but she can’t turn away. None of us can.

What follows next is straight out of a horror movie. There is screaming. There is blood. We watch as the baby begins to crown and appear. “There is no way that baby will fit through there,” is what all the husbands were thinking. We were wrong. The mother screeches and strains. The pain and discomfort are obvious in her face. Just a few minutes later the tiny baby emerges followed by what looks like the woman’s internal organs. The umbilical cord is cut and the placenta is examined for damage. Our instructor mentions how we should also be aware of the unpleasant smells that will accompany delivery before she promptly turns off the VCR.

Stunned Silence.

Shannon whispers in my ear, “You had better be glad I didn’t see this before I got pregnant.”

Right after that the class took a break. I was standing in line for the Men’s Room pondering what our own labor and delivery would be like. “I hope Shannon is not too traumatized,” I was thinking. I realize that Redneck Guy is standing beside me. I look over and see that he is looking at me. “What did you think of the movie?” I say without thinking. “I figur it cayn’t be no worse than cleanin’ a gutshot deer,” he says back. “Good point” I reply. Then I turn back around.

We watched another movie where the woman had an epidural. Much smoother delivery and not as much painful drama. The only major concern during this video was that Shannon hates needles. This one was a pretty big one. (Good thing it will be in her back so she won’t have to look at it.) “So far, I’m not crazy about my choices for getting this baby out of me,” Shannon whispered in my ear. I didn’t know how to respond. I feel awful that she will have to experience such distress. By the time we got to the C-Section movie I was completely zoned out. The majority of the afternoon was taken up with relaxation and breathing exercises. (I admit that I took a little nap while we were lying on the floor.)

It was a very informative class. I am glad we attended. It’s good to be aware.

I think.

Watch Out Spielberg

2007-10-17T19:44:00.000-04:00

I have never wanted to own a video camera, at least not since I have been an adult. I have had friends with camcorders who would tape anything and everything and I always wondered when they would get around to actually watching those tapes. I figured that the majority of my life was boring enough the first time around. Why would I want to see it again? Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of exciting moments too, but for legal reasons, it is probably best there isn’t a video record of them.

Now that I am going to be a dad my views are changing. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of “home movie night”. My dad would hang a sheet on the wall and get out the movie projector. Mom would make a big bowl of popcorn. Carole, Suzanne and I would dig through the box of super 8 movie reels in the closet, each one of us picking out the film we wanted to see first. Even though we had watched the movies before we would always laugh at the sight of ourselves on camera. (If we ever wanted to feel like we were on a roller coaster we could always watch one of Grandma’s movies of a 4th of July parade.)

What really pushed me over the edge was when I was flipping channels on TV the other night. The remote quit working while I was mid flip and stopped on some channel. I don’t know if the battery was low or what, but I couldn’t move up or down using the remote. (What do you mean, “Get up and change the channel?”) Anyway, the show on the screen was America’s Funniest Home Videos. I’m not typically one for watching dumb people get whacked in the groin, but unless I moved from my reclined position, I was stuck.

Over the next several minutes I watched clip after clip of small children getting tripped, dunked and squirted. All to the delight of the studio audience. I thought to myself , “Man, those kids will be so embarrassed when they get older.” Just then a light bulb went off. I was thinking “my son deserves to be humiliated as much as any other boy.”

So, last weekend I found myself at Best Buy. Like most men I am drawn to electronic gadgets. I like the latest and greatest in thingamajigs. I don’t know much about video cameras so I did a very “unmanly” thing and asked for help from the sales girl. Her name was Sara. The conversation went like this.

“Hi, I am Sara” she said. “Do you have questions about video cameras?” I replied “yes.”
“Blah, blah, blah digital blah, blah battery life blah, blah,” said Sara. I just nodded. “Then there is blah, blah high definition blah, blah surround sound, blah, blah top of the line Sony” she spouted. “Wait…she said HD Sony?” “I’ll take it” were the next words that came out of my mouth. “Oh, and I have a coupon.” (My mom would have been proud.)

I am now the owner of a Sony camcorder. An expensive one. This kid better do some funny stuff.

Baby Training 101

2007-10-13T17:33:00.000-04:00

We went to our first baby preparedness class last night. It was taught at a local hospital.
The class started at 6:30 in one of the hospital classrooms located on the labor and delivery floor.

Shannon and I arrived right at 6:30 and were greeted by the instructor. She was a nurse with many years of experience. I suspect her first delivery was assisting “Ol’ Doc Watson” in a log cabin by candlelight. (I could just picture her telling the “Paw” to boil some water and find clean sheets.)

Besides Shannon and I, there were just a few other people in the class. I don’t know their real names so I will refer to them by nicknames. There was K-Fed and Britney, Dagwood and Blondie and Single Mom. Single Mom wasn’t really single, she is just married to the super hero known as Absent Man. I was more than a little disappointed that we didn’t stand up and do introductions. I was hoping for a little insight into what they were thinking about having kids. Especially K-Fed with his facial piercings.

The class began with the instructor telling us how labor and delivery had changed so much since she began nursing. “In the old days,” she said, “the husband would drop the mother off in front of the hospital, park the car, and then wait in the lounge for one of the nurses to come out and tell him what was happening.” “Sounds reasonable,” I thought. I raised my hand and asked her why that had changed. She explained that during the 70’s and early 80’s some husbands “demanded” to be more involved. (Thanks gentlemen)

The next two hours were filled with helpful tips about caring for your newborn when you bring them home. Most of them were obvious. I took notes to make sure I did not forget the real important ones. For instance, :don’t shake the baby". It may seem like a good idea, but you shouldn’t do it. "Don’t let the baby use power tools." They are careless and waste a lot of lumber. "Don’t let the baby cook." They never follow the recipe and you end up eating bad food just to be polite.

I know this is an exaggeration, and most of the lecture was common sense, but I really did learn some useful information. I didn’t know that you shouldn’t give a baby a bath until their umbilical cord stump falls off. Even then, they don’t really need much of a scrubbing. I also had some concerns about trimming the babies nails. (Shannon says this will be my responsibility). I learned you can just bite them off while the baby is asleep. “Sweet Idea” I thought. I’ve had lots of practice biting my own nails. If nothing else, the class taught me that I am more prepared than I thought to care for a baby.

40 weeks sure seems like a long time...

2007-10-01T19:45:00.000-04:00

And I'm not even the one who is pregnant. I know Shannon is getting frustrated with being tired and uncomfortable. Just the other day I was laying on the couch watching baseball when I noticed her mopping the floor and taking out the garbage. I thought to myself, "Boy, she sure looks worn out." (Just kidding Donna...I am taking good care of your baby sister.)

Lately Shannon has wanted to spend most evenings and weekends relaxing. Being the devoted husband I am, I plop down right beside her on the couch. The nice thing is that the time has allowed us to have some long discussions about the baby and our plans for the future. I really feel that we have become closer as a couple. Before the pregnancy we would have been running in oposite directions all week, just to re-group on Sunday evening. Now, we actually make it a point to sit down at the kitchen table for supper.

One of the reasons for her fatigue is that the baby is getting bigger and more active. He is making it increasingly difficult for his mother to get comfortable and relax. The other night I was sitting next to Shannon watching the Cubs game. (I wanted to watch HGTV, but she insited we see if the Cubbies would make the post season.) All of the sudden I noticed my wife;s t-shirt moving. The little fella just couldn't relax while Alfonso Soriano was up to bat. We sat there for a minute smiling and feeling the boy kick and move. At first, it is a little disturbing to see things poking out and moving around inside your wife's abdomen, but then it's exciting.

Speaking of disturbing, there are some other changes in our household that haven't been super positive. You know how when you come home from work and there is a package on the front steps? Whenever you notice it you think"Hey! A package...I wonder what we got?" Well, that is not the case at our house. Not for me anyway. Now I see a box on the front steps I just say "Great...another shipment of tiny clothes or big panties. Whoopie!"

Interesting how the size of my wife's underwear is directly proportionate to the number of Victoria's Secret ads I get in my e-mail box. They are an evil empire!

Just eight or ten more weeks and we are home free, right?

Strange Territory

2007-09-24T18:20:00.000-04:00

The longer this month drags on, the stranger it gets. I find myself dealing with emotions and situations I have not experienced before. I am referring to, of course, the Cubs being in first place in the Central Division this late in September. Just kidding. As exciting as it is watching my beloved Chicago Cubs have a shot at the post season, I am pre-occupied with the baby growing rapidly inside my wife.

I thought that by this point in the pregnancy I would have settled down. Not true. I have become a worrier. I worry about the health of the baby. I worry about Shannon feeling okay. I worry about labor and delivery. Sometimes I lay awake at night thinking about things that could go wrong and wonder how I would handle the situation.

(Watching season three of Grey’s Anatomy on DVD probably wasn’t the wisest choice.)

Last week Shannon had a doctor’s appointment. It included another ultrasound and the results of her Glucose Tolerance Test. I took the afternoon off from work and went with her.

Driving in to the hospital parking garage I was wondering where I needed to go when the big day (or D-Day as I am now referring to it) happens. “Do I go to the Emergency Room when you are in labor?” I said. I can just picture myself flying into the drop off area on two wheels, tires squealing. “No” Shannon said. “I am pretty sure we just go to the hospital admissions desk.” I am thinking to myself “What?...I would think having a baby would surely qualify as an emergency!”. (It does in my book.)

So we are sitting in the waiting room before the doctor's appt and I am feeling a little nervous about the test results and ultrasound. I’m always afraid we will get bad news. To take my mind off of things I begin reading an article in Super Parent Quarterly or whatever the magazine was called. The article was about negotiating with your child about who is boss. It basically says that children become discouraged when parents make all of the household decisions. Occasionally you should let children be the boss. My response to that is the same as my father’s response to me. “You don’t like it? Well, when you get to be the Dad…you can make the rules” he would say. Now that I am going to be the Dad, I am not passing up my opportunity to make the rules.

Anyway, the article worked. I was distracted. Soon enough we get called back to the ultrasound room. I am excited. Maybe this time I can see what they are talking about. No such luck. The images on this ultrasound were just larger and fuzzier than the first. “The doctor will be in to see you shortly” the ultrasonographer would say.

She lied. The doctor was trying to deliver a couple of babies that day. It was back to the waiting room for us. “I hope he says nothing is wrong” was all I could think. Not even the parenting magazines could distract me this time.

After 45 minutes of watching As the World Turns on the tiny waiting room TV, we were called back again. Straight from delivering a baby, the doctor flew into the room with Shannon’s chart. (I half expected him to be covered in blood and gore like a zombie in a horror movie.) He flipped a few pages, looked at the ultrasound pictures and measured her belly. He said Shannon’s blood sugar was a borderline high in two of the four samples and suggested she meet with a gestational diabetes specialist for some diet and exercise advice. The boy is also about ½ a pound bigger than he would expect him to be at this stage. He weighs about 3 ½ pounds. Both mother and baby have good heartbeats. Shannon’s blood pressure is great. “Everything looks good,” the doctor said, “you are right on track”.

I could relax.

Of course, last night I watched In The Womb on the National Geographic Channel in High Def. Here we go again…

Ready for Baby

2007-09-16T15:57:00.000-04:00

Daddy's Day Out

2007-09-16T08:51:00.000-04:00

Let me tell you about registering for the baby shower. I know that on the surface it sounds like it would be really, really fun but it wasn't. It was scarry. It was yet another glaring reminder that I don't know very much about babies.

Shannon and I have talked about doing it for weeks. I begged her to take me to Babies -R-Us, but we kept putting it off. Finally I just put my foot down. Saturday morning was it. We put on comfortable clothes and headed to the store.

We walked up to the registration counter and announced our intent. A very helpful young girl named Christi (with an i) gave us the forms to fill out and pamphlet to read. (funny isn't it?...you don't have to do anything to make a baby, but if you want somebody to buy him a tube of Beaudrous Butt Paste you have to fill out a form.)

Christi (with an i) went over the forms, pamphlet and program at rapid fire speed. "You neeed to do this" or "Don't do that unless" she said several times. Myself, I was distracted by a tiny monkey suit hanging on a rack next to me. "I can't wait until this kid is older so I can dress him up in crazy outfits" I was thinking. Finally she handed us a scanner, a store map and a list of suggested items.

The very first aisle set the tone for the rest of the morning. Imagine me standing there, scanner in my hand, facing a giant wall of breast pumps and breast pump accessories. Shannon is standing behind me with the list of recommendations. "Okay" she said "We need a breast pump. Which one do you think would be good?" she asked. I know that between the two of us I am the one who has devoted more time to the study of womens' breasts, but my knowledge ends with practical application. I have always just been concerned with aesthetic value. "I have no idea" was my reply to that and to many questions to follow.

We meandered through the aisles talking, reading and scanning. Eventually we made our way back to Christi (with an i) and gave her our scanner back. Feeling successful I said to Shannon, "Let's get some lunch."

On the way to the restaurant Shannon noticed in the Babies-R-Us pamphlet all of the things that the store "automatically" puts into your registry. You know, just to be helpful. Needless to say, this morning we will be going over our selections on-line. So much for being done with registering.

Hooray for modern times!

2007-09-13T19:03:00.000-04:00

I am glad that we live in such modern times. Today’s forward thinking society has allowed us to blur the lines of traditional gender roles.

I say this because growing up I learned that Dad's are never included in the time honored tradition of the “baby shower”. I was sad knowing I would miss out on the finger sandwiches, baby bottles filled with jelly beans, in-depth discussions about breast feeding and remedies for diaper rash. Oh sure, I get to accompany my wife to my new favorite stores as we register for the shower. My opinion is necessary when deciding what color the “whatchamacallit” or the “thingamajig” should be, or how may wipey things we need. I didn’t think that I would rate an invitation the actual "party".

Imagine my excitement when I learned that our joyous event would now include couples. How great is it that all of my close male friends can join me in the frivolity? I hope that I don’t cry. That would just be embarrassing.

Anyway, I am not only new to the idea of parenthood, I am also still relatively unfamiliar with the idea of men going to a baby shower. I decided to do some internet research.

It's worse than I thought. Website after website offers suggestions on how to make the men feel more included in the shower. "Make sure the father-to-be has a seat next to the expectant mother when opening the gifts", "have the men race to change the diaper on a doll" or "have the guys try to drink juice from a baby bottle as fast as they can". One webpage had a message/suggestion board with some frequently asked questions on it. I saw one headline that read "How can I throw my husband an all boys baby shower?" (I couldn't bring myself to look.) Two words lady...you don't.

I have a co-ed baby shower game...have all of the ladies put their purses in a pile and see if the men can guess which one their testecles are in.

Allright, enough of my inner caveman. In all honesty I am glad that men are more involved in the pregnancy now. I want to be a part of every aspect of my wifes pregnancy and son's birth. (Even the ones that aren't my cup of tea.)

If our friends and family want to help us celebrate our first baby...then I am glad to have them as friends and family.

Who is writing this nonsense anyway?

2007-09-09T21:56:00.000-04:00

Because they only know my wife or don't know either of us, several people have asked for a picture of the author of this blog. Well, here you go....

Things are starting to get interesting....

2007-09-09T20:59:00.000-04:00

Shannon went to the doctor's office last week for her glucose screening test and checkup.

The glucose screening did not go well. In fact, it did not happen. Shannon had sugar in her urine sample even before the screening. And a sugar level of 171 after a quick finger prick. (We're told it should be between 80-120.) Because of that, the doctor decided to skip it all together. ( I'm sure it's because she is sooooo sweet.)

He has scheduled her for a three hour glucose tolerance test. She will stand around for three hours drinking syrupy, sweet drinks and see how it affects her blood and body.(In other words, it is like going to a night club without the smoke and loud music.) All of this is designed to test for gestational diabetes. If it turns out to be more serious than just eating too many cookies, he will talk to us about managing the problem. That could involve anything from a more restricted diet to insulin. The doctor was not alarmed and assured her that we will cross that bridge when we come to it. He said that the rest of the checkup was good. The baby has a good heartbeat and is growing bigger. Possibly too big.

The doctor made another comment on the size of Shannon's belly and took measurements. He wants to do another ultrasound on September 20th to see if he is farther along than we first thought. I just think he is going to be a big boy like his father. I hope he sets a new world record! (If he does...I will never hear the end of it.)

The only other issue Shannon is having is with her wrists and hands. Over the last few weeks she has started to suffer from what most people refer to as carpel tunnel syndrome (however you say it or spell it.) Basically she has pain in her thumbs and wrists accompanied by some numbness in her fingertips. Like most things associated with pregnancy symptoms there isn't anything I can do to help her be more comfortable. (Stop asking it just pisses them off.)

I'm going to go into the kitchen and finish doing dishes...

Caring for Baby

2007-08-31T17:22:00.000-04:00

The other night Shannon and I were putting some finishing touches on the nursery and admiring the nice little room we have put together. We stood there for a minute looking at our handy work. “It looks really good,” Shannon said. I nodded in agreement. We were both facing the crib. It is completely empty except for the tiny plastic covered mattress and the little Pottery Barn patchwork quilt. Almost as if on cue, we looked at each other and the weight of the situation became evident.

Shannon was still smiling but her tone became more serious and her eyes teared up. “What are we going to do, Dan?” she said. I pretended I didn’t know what she was referring to, but I knew where this conversation was heading. “I don’t know ANYTHING about taking care of babies” she said. Always being the rock for Shannon to lean on I responded in the most logical way. “Well, don’t look at me” I shot back. “Uh oh, did I just say that out loud?” I thought to myself. Sure enough. I could tell by the look on her face.

“Don’t worry honey” I whispered as I slowly moved closer to her. “We are mature, intelligent, adults in a committed, loving relationship and we can do this…together” In an effort to bolster my argument, I named off some couples we know with children. “If they can do it…we sure as hell can do it” (DISCLAIMER: I am in no way referring to anyone who might be reading this blog. I am clearly referring to those other people. Come on, we all know who they are.)

With my arm around her I said the three words all pregnant women want to hear from their husbands. “Are you hungry?” I thought that distracting her with food would get me off the hook. It would only work for a few days.

Last night during the Cubs game (They are in 1st place by the way!) she presented me with a list of parenting classes offered by our local hospital. We discussed classes about Lamaze, Labor and Delivery for couples not practicing Lamaze, Infant First Aid and CPR, Boot Camp for New Dads, etc. Now when I say discussed, I mean she talked and I listened intently. (blah, blah, Lamaze, blah, blah, childbirth) When Matt Murton and Alfonso Soriano hit back to back home runs to put the Cubs in the lead, I think I agreed to attend any class the hospital offers.

In all seriousness, I eagerly await the arrival of my son. I want to be as involved as I can. I am not intimidated by diaper changing, bathing or feeding. If I get in a pinch…I will just call my Mom.

Bedtime at our house

2007-08-28T19:34:00.001-04:00

Where will the baby sleep? Wait!...where will I sleep?

These are dangerous times we live in…

2007-08-28T19:03:00.000-04:00

The baby’s room has been painted and the furniture has been arranged. (for now)

With the nursery all but settled, I began to wonder what happens if the boy gets out. We have been so focused on his room that I hadn’t given much thought to what to do when he isn’t actually in there. I know what you’re thinking. “Why would he need to be outside of the nursery?” Well, according to several books and articles I have read, they are eligible for parole almost immediately. So, I do what most people getting ready for a baby do. I start reading and researching about child safety. Things like car seats, playpens and generally making the house safe for a child.

My head literally hurts now. Our baby will be lucky to make it to 2 without losing a limb. I had never given much thought to what children might get into. Yeah sure, I had considered the easy stuff like putting my pistol on a higher shelf, but that doesn’t even scratch the surface. (just kidding Mom…I’ll take the bullets out, too.) The book I was reading last night suggested that I get down on the floor and crawl around looking for safety hazards. You know...from the baby's perspective. How about banging my pumkin size head on the coffee table while crawling around like a moron? Would that be a safety hazard?

So, I guess I will spend the next 12 weeks getting my house sterilized and covered in bubble wrap. Then I'll only have to concern myself with the rest of the planet.

I’m not kidding. While I was out of town a couple of weeks ago I was watching Good Morning America in a hotel lobby. They were doing a story about the possible lead contamination of paint on toys made in China. Diane Sawyer or somebody was interviewing some child safety expert. The person honestly said that if your child has touched any of these small toys you should make an appointment with a doctor right away. I thought “How much lead is in that paint?” The person went on to say that exposure to lead could cause developmental problems and brain damage.

I remember when I was a kid my Dad had lots of duck decoys in the basement. Around the neck of every one of these big plastic ducks was a bar of lead used to weight them down. I would spend hours twisting those lead weights into shapes and toys like guns and brass knuckles. (sweet kid right?) I would pretend that it was steel and I was superhuman and could bend it.

Between that and using my teeth to clamp lead sinkers on my fishing line, I would say I was exposed to a million times more lead than one lousy Chinese toy.

Hmmmmmm. That could explain a few things.

Oh, no! My wife has swallowed a basketball!

2007-08-20T21:27:00.000-04:00

Let me start off by premising this post by saying my wife looks beautiful while pregnant.

That being said, I had my first “Holy Moly!” moment.

I was getting ready to go to the gym this morning. Shannon was in the shower getting ready for an early appointment. I was packing a change of clothes into a bag when out of the corner of my eye…there it was. Right out in the open. My little wife’s swollen, pregnant belly. I had caught glimpses of the elusive bulge before, but never a full on, totally naked, side view. “Don’t stare at it,” I kept repeating to myself. Too late. Shannon saw me. “What are you looking at?” she said. “My beautiful wife” I immediately spouted. “It’s really big, huh?” said my wife. Trying not to appear shocked I mumbled “it is barely noticeable”.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been paying attention all along. I see her in the mornings getting dressed. I see her in the evenings in her jammies. It is just that I have been traveling, off and on, for the better part of a month and have not spent so much time with her. All of the sudden BAM! there it is. Pregnant belly. No doubt about it now. What on earth is it going to look like in 14 weeks when the timer goes off? (I’ll see if I can get a picture.)

She had been complaining lately about bumping into things because she was not used to having her stomach poking out so far. (tell me about it) I assured her that it is something she will get used to. On the bright side, it is helpful for catching things like salsa and cashews.

Sorry honey. That’s what you get for marrying a big man.

Little League World Series

2007-08-19T18:29:00.000-04:00

This is the week when 12 year olds from all over the planet invade Williamsport, PA to play in the Little League World Series. Shannon thinks I am crazy, but I watch as many games as I can on ESPN. I love the stuff. As a baseball fan, it is refreshing to see these little athletes play for nothing more than pure love of the game. No million dollar contracts at stake there.

One of my favorite parts of LLWS is the things we learn about the boys when they are up to bat. Unlike Major League Baseball stats, we learn things like the second baseman's favorite food, the catchers favorite school subject or the left fielder's nickname.

This year I have been especially interested. As I learn about the young men I can't help but think about my own son. What will his favorite movie be? (Happy Gilmore, Dodge Ball or Blazing Saddles) What about his favorite food? (BBQ Ribs) Will he like baseball?(Go Cubbies!) Will he have a nickname? How tall will he be when he is 12? Will he look more like Shannon or me?

I can't wait to find out.

He'll make a fine rugby player...

2007-08-09T18:35:00.000-04:00

We went to the doctor’s office yesterday for a routine check-up. I say WE because I like to tag along and stand silently in support of my wife. It’s not that I want to act like a scared deer caught in the headlights. In fact, each month I prepare a list of questions in my head that I plan to ask the nurse or doctor during the exam. You know, to show that I am caring and involved. Sure enough, the second I walk into the OB/GYN office, all rational thought escapes me. I can’t think of a single question. (must be all of the estrogen floating around) I just stand there grinning while the doctor measures, pokes, prods and examines the mother of my unborn child.

Anyway, Shannon’s blood pressure is great. She feels fine. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and fast. He is growing at a rapid pace. All in all a very uneventful checkup.

The only highlight coming when the doctor measured Shannon’s belly yesterday and said “Well, he is going to be a big boy”. I thought to myself “no duh”. “Have you seen the father? He is the gorilla in the corner not saying anything”

“A big boy” was the last thing my tiny, five foot nothing wife wanted to hear. I may have to rethink my position on "push presents".

Cruisin right along...

2007-08-05T07:44:00.000-04:00

I am happy to report that Shannon is doing fine and the pregnancy is flying by. We have been very lucky. Apart from a few days here and there, the "mom to be" has felt really good.

Shannon was in south Georgia on business this week. We talked on the phone every night about her day and how she was feeling. She told me Monday that she could feel the boy moving. Shannon said that her belly is bigger, her back hurts and that her feet and ankles had started to swell. All week long she would mention her feet and ankles. So much for not really feeling pregnant.

I took a few days off from work and drove down to Augusta to pick her up. We thought it would be nice to drive down to Jacksonville and spend a day or two relaxing with our friends Kim and Jim. I was excited to see my wife after a week apart. I wanted to check on the progress of my boy.

When Shannon got in the car she threw her feet up on the dash and again complained of her sore, swollen feet. Being the sypathetic husband I am, I simply said, "They look fine, now just sit back and relax. You can soak them in the pool when we get to Florida." Of course in my mind I was thinking, "OH MY GOSH! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER ANKLES. WHERE DOES HER CALF END AND HER FEET BEGIN?"

Anyway, I am happy to report that a couple of days relaxing, shopping and eating have helped her. We have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday. I will give you the update afterward.

Making the transition...

2007-07-29T11:15:00.000-04:00

So, not only are we having a baby boy, now he will officially live at our house.

This week marked the transition of "spare room" to "nursery". No longer will that room house unwanted furniture and suitcases. It has been called up to the big leagues. It has passed the recliner and flat screen TV as the most important area of the house.

We started the room makeover by having my childhood furniture refinished. I know, can you believe my parents held on to it for all these years? How unlike them. It was in pretty good shape to start with, but the finish was dull and had a few areas that needed attention. (I might have left a coke can or two sitting on the dresser.) We came to this conclusion after looking at NEW children's furniture. Have you priced this lately? Who knew particle board and spray paint could be so expensive? Anyway, my old furniture was solid maple and could be redone for just a few hundred dollars. Add some new hardware (plus a few nervously drilled holes) and you have an HGTV calibur bargain. Not that I watch HGTV or anything. Sometimes Shannon has it on while I'm cleaning my guns or reading Playboy.

The next piece of furniture to get was the ever important crib. When reading articles about choosing a crib one thing is clear. If your child sleeps in a crib they will be lucky if they survive the first year.

Armed with the latest in safety ratings Shannon and I did the most logical thing.
We bought a crib on clearance. Yep, pretty much the cheapest thing we could find. On the brightside...it matches the furniture very well.

Just kidding. We found a great deal on a good crib. My Dad and I put it together yesterday with out a hitch. No cuss words. No missing parts. I did not want to smash anything. (If any of you have ever worked on a project with my Dad and I you would appreciate how remarkable this is.) I guess we were too focused on the boy's safety and putting the bed together correctly. No time to worry about how I wasn't watching what I was doing. I love you Dad!

I am so excited about having a son.

Next comes paint colors, curtains and bedding. Stay tuned...

Nursery in progress...

2007-07-29T11:08:00.000-04:00

Getting used to the idea of a boy...

2007-07-21T09:07:00.000-04:00

We are getting used to the idea of having a boy. It sure has made some things easier. Now we can settle on decorating the nursery and stuff. It has also allowed me to purchase a few baby outfits. Of course they have things like "slugger" or "all star" on them. Not that everything I buy has to do with sports. I am comfortable with anything "boyish". (Except soccer. Sorry, I just can't make that leap.)

The last couple of weeks we have been refering to the baby as Max. We both kind of like the idea of Max for a first name. As my buddy Aaron says "Max sounds like the kind of guy you can have a beer with". How can you argue with that logic?

The question of the moment is "What is Max short for?" It might be we name him just Max. My boss thinks it should be Maximus. I don't know. Maximus Danger Minninger? (so he can say "Danger is my middle name"...Get it?)

Maybe I should discuss this with Shannon before I settle on anything.

Using the name Maximus was not the only words of wisdom my boss had. Jeff also said "Take it from the father of a teenage girl, with a son you only have to worry about one boy. With a daughter, you have to worry about ALL boys"

Okay...real ultrasound pictures

2007-07-11T22:38:00.000-04:00

Ultrasound picture

2007-07-07T12:42:00.000-04:00

Even at only 20 weeks the boy resembles his father.

What's in a name?

2007-07-06T11:28:00.000-04:00

Now the task of naming the boy. It needs to be something good. I like the idea of a Daniel Arthur Minninger Jr. It has always been a good name for me. I just don’t like the idea of calling him Daniel, DJ, Jr or J.R. I could use some suggestions.

Shannon likes the name Shakespeare and her brother likes the name Amadeus. “Good idea”. While we are at it, why don’t we just take his lunch money and give him a wedgie before he leaves the house every morning.

This is gonna’ take some thought.

It's a what?

2007-07-06T11:27:00.000-04:00

Shannon had another doctor’s appointment yesterday. It was a very big day at the Minninger household. She had an ultrasound to check the baby’s progress and to see if we could tell the sex of the baby. We also got the results back from her “quad screen” blood work.

I hadn’t slept very well the night before. I couldn’t stop worrying about the test results and the ultrasound. Up until this point, it was all still new and exciting. Shannon was pregnant, but it was too early to worry about major problems. That all changed when they drew blood last week to test for birth defects. I had done a pretty good job avoiding websites, articles and discussions about issues that can occur during pregnancy.

I remember when Shannon first told me she was going to have a baby. I scoured the internet looking for information about pregnancy. Within 30 minutes I was practically paralyzed with fear. “Does anyone ever have a healthy baby with no complications?” I asked myself. The statistics and facts are too much. 1 in 5 babies this. 1in 200 babies that. 1 out of every 2 babies explode when the father holds them for the first time.

Now fast forward to Thursday morning…

Shannon is on the exam table and her belly is greased up like a baby pig at the county fair. The ultra-stenographer (yet another word I have learned in this journey) is running the ultrasound wand back and forth across my wife’s abdomen. Shannon, Shannon’s Mom, Shannon’s sister Donna, my Mom, my Dad and I are all looking intently at this flickering black and white screen.

The ultra-stenographer is politely pointing out body parts and taking measurements. “This is this…this is that…this would be the whatever” she says. Everyone but me is oohing and aaahing. “Alright, I’ll give you the head, but I don’t make out anything else” I think to myself. “Just say that it looks fine and healthy”

“It’s a boy” she says pointing to a little spot on the screen. (I mean HUGE spot on the screen) “Wait! What!” did she say boy? I’ll be honest, I couldn’t tell anything from that screen, but I didn’t want to be the only one. It’s like those trick paintings they sell at the mall. You know the ones with the picture inside of a picture. I can’t ever see those either.

A few minutes later we met with the doctor. He said that everything was fine. So far there are no indications we are having anything other than a healthy baby boy. He did move the due date up a little to December 4th.

Now all we need to do is come up with a name…

Heaven help us...

2007-06-26T20:07:00.000-04:00

So we are laying in bed last night talking about how we will raise our child. The conversation began because Shannon is reading some kind of pregnancy magazine. She keeps firing questions at me depending on what article she is reading. "What are my views on breastfeeding?" "Do I think the baby needs to spend the first few months sleeping in our room?"

I'm not sure if I ever really answered any of her first several questions. I just kept thinking to myself "Wow! Yet another set of things I haven't even considered". "I have never felt so unprepared for anything". One time in high school, I was running for class vice-president. I had to give a speech in front of the entire student body. I had gotten the dates wrong and showed up for the assembly without having written a speech. In fact, I had not really thought about what I was going to say when I did write it. (shocker...I lost the election)

I was less anxious about that.

Anyway, Shannon is flipping through this magazine and sees an ad for baby earrings. "How do you feel about piercing the babies ears?" she says. Before I can answer she states, "I think it is more special if we wait until she is old enough to ask for pierced ears." "Then we know she really, really wants it" says my wife. "Like a tattoo or belly ring" I say.

Heaven help me if I have a daughter.

Dealing with the present and planning for the future..

2007-06-19T08:16:00.000-04:00

Mother and baby are doing well. Shannon is starting to show more. Her lttle belly is poking out. I would take a picture and post it but it would probably mean my death.

She says she still feels more fat than pregnant. I think she looks great. She talks about feeling heavy and sluggish. She talks about it being harder to breathe. She talks about the difficulty bending over and how she feels hot and tired.

I say...welcome to my world.

We went to visit a day care center last Friday. It was an eye opening experience.

Apparently they will teach the child sign language, Spanish, colors, letters and quantum physics before they turn 5 years old. And all for only a million dollars!

As a Dad, I will be responsible for the more valuable life lessons like don't eat your boogers, the infield fly rule and the difference between rugby and football.

Mother to be update

2007-06-05T18:53:00.000-04:00

Shannon went to the doctor last week for a checkup. Mother to be and tiny Minninger are doing great. Shannons blood pressure is good. 110/70. (mine is higher than that laying on the couch)
The fetus heartbeat is strong and fast. 170 BPM. (again, mine is higher than that laying on the couch)

Still no nausea.

Next doctor visit she will get some more bloodwork done to check for markers that could indicate something like Downs Syndrome or more serious problems. The doctor doesn't seem to be concerned. I like his laid back, positive attitude.

Sometime in July we should be able to find out the sex of the baby. I feel pretty strongly it will be a girl. I also feel pretty strongly that in High School she will want to date some spikey haired, earing wearing punk who needs a smack. Call it Karma.