Changes

Any day now, our little boy will make his way into the world and turn it upside down for us.

From what I've heard.

And I don't have any reason to doubt those who tell me I have no idea how different, how new my life will be once the baby makes that big transition from fairly low-maintenance to ultra high-maintenance. Indeed, it's already starting to become that different.

I'm not sure that I handle transitions so smoothly - kind of like an engine low on transmission fluid. Even just the shift the past week or two from the frenzy of finishing house projects to the relative calm before the storm (a quick Google image search of "baby in a tornado" didn't net me anything useful to link to here) has been weird. We bought our house two years ago and never really finished construction on it or unpacking boxes into it until more or less now, and so coming down off of months of always having too much to do and trying to settle into a less busy pace is just ... not easy. We've got a little more time for a few days, but soon we won't. Crazy.

A month or so ago, after a stressful morning at work in which I was feeling the squeeze from work in addition to all the other life stuff stressing me out, I went to pick up Kathryn from her job so we could get lunch. After venting a little to her, she asked me, "Do we need to go to China King for lunch?" What a wonderful woman. That much at least will never change.

For everything else, though, I don't try to maintain any illusions that I'll recognize my life even as soon as a week from now. When I hold my son for the first time (and sob), endure my first week of sleep-deficient nights (sobbing), drive for the first time with an infant in the back seat (sweating), and whatever else the super-near future entails, I undoubtedly will feel like an alien in my own skin, but a happy one at that, like the ones that come and vacation on Earth and return to their home planets without leaving a credible piece of evidence that while they were really here, they weren't really from here. You know, that feeling.

Whether or not I recognize my life at that point isn't so important, though. Because it will be awesome. And I'll be the proudest dad there ever was, and we'll have the cutest baby boy there ever was, and Mommy will have had the easiest labor there ever was (a dude can dream), and we'll realize more deeply than ever the goodness of the Lord to us in giving this little person into our care.

I'll keep you posted. From the underside of the world.

The big push before the big push

I've noticed over the past eight months or so the way that expecting a baby can reorder life. I'd noticed it in other people before myself. In some men, though I wouldn't have called them irresponsible before, there's a marked difference in the seriousness with which they begin to approach life, and they really turn into good husbands and dads. As far as I can tell, at least - but it's hard to chock it all up to appearances when their kids are turning out so well, and I see firsthand (even if only once in a while) how they interact with their wives and kids. (In case you're the type of reader who likes to reread sentences in your head and make things sound weird, I should clarify that last sentence by saying that I don't personally know any polygamists.)

I've even thought some about my dad lately, and the good examples he sets. He would always drive the older (at times junkier) car and let mom drive the better or newer one. He would go out of his way to set up activities where he could spend quality time with me - including such things as building uneven bars for me in the backyard when I was in gymnastics, or pouring a concrete slab in the backyard and putting up a basketball goal when I was in basketball, or coaching my YMCA soccer team, though I'm pretty sure he'd never played soccer before, and I can only speculate as to whether he'd ever even seen a match prior to hanging the whistle around his neck. Probably, but who knows? He's also always gone to great lengths to engage me spiritually, and teach me the importance of knowing the Lord and making that central to everything that I do.

Is Kathryn's and my first child having the same impact on me? It's hard to tell - change for me usually tends to happen so gradually as to be difficult to notice on my own (maybe others can see it more clearly). All I know is that there hasn't been an abundance of time lately to sort all these things out. I would have strongly preferred to have all the major work on the house done months ago and spent most of 2010 reading and thinking deeply about the upcoming change to our family. As it stands now, cosmic diaphragms are starting to get sore for all the laughter at my naiveté for thinking that, amid all the things that we decided we needed to get done in the last several months, somehow we could have completed them in a more timely fashion than all the other do-it-ourselves endeavors.

Does God laugh at us the same way we laugh at children? Since I'm pretty much always laughing at them, I think I'm a more likely candidate than some to be a source of heavenly amusement.

I think this will be the perspective to help me be a good sport about achieving the following in the next few weeks:

-Planting six raised garden beds

-Installing window blinds throughout the house

-Finishing baseboards and trim

-Organizing a very unorganized house

-Finishing dining room table and chairs

-Having gutters installed (thankfully not something I'm doing myself)

-Refinancing the house

-Doing taxes

-Setting up a baby room

I'm sure there's plenty I'm leaving out, but that hits most of the big stuff. It's funny to think that a little baby could inspire such a frenzy of activity, that we begin to suddenly realign our whole lives in anticipation of something we know is coming, but isn't fully here yet in the sense that we know it will be soon enough. Yes, it's pretty obvious I'm going somewhere with this, which is here. Pretty amazing the way God has knit together all the kinds of new life he brings. It comes subtly, but surely (though, ask my wife, and she would say there's nothing especially subtle about the active little boy in her belly); hidden for now, but with signs, and the anticipation of a glorious breaking-in to the world. This is comforting for those of us who find difficulty living in the reality of a kingdom that we can't see by looking at life as it's packaged and sold by an eager world. Despite appearances to the contrary, I can say this with confidence, and in more ways than one:

He's coming. And I'll be ready.

Close Call on Crappy Coffee

A little over a week ago I nearly sold myself out for recognition and compensation. These guys were doing a jingle contest and I attempted to enter, only to be denied at the last minute by the contest website (yes, I waited until the last minute to try and submit my entry, but it was a very busy weekend).

That "SERIOUSLY?!" moment was quite a long time in the making. At first, I was hoping to do the contest with this guy, until we found out he makes too much of his money as a professional musician. Oh, well. Then I thought this guy would be fun to put a jingle together with, but it turned out to be not a good time for him. Oh, well. But all was not yet lost - we have no shortage of musical talent among our comrades, so I gave this guy a call, and he returned an enthused, "let's do it!" Only, schedules didn't jive, I think some illnesses got in the way (oh, well), and long story short, it's February 27th and I've got less than 48 hours to put my song and video together.

So I decide to go solo (well, sort of - I know I can talk my lovely wife into putting something amazing together for the video in a very short amount of time, and she certainly did, as you'll soon see). Oh, and this is the weekend that we're working on the house, have both sets of family in, have our first baby shower, and meet and chat with our future housemate for the first time - but no big deal, we'll squeeze in cutting a music video, somehow.

The deadline is 11:00 PM (midnight Eastern Standard Time), February 28th. Wouldn't you know, we get to about 9:00 PM and I'm still finalizing the song, no video shot yet. We get to about 10:00 and we're just getting the camera rolling. 10:30, Kathryn's editing the video on our low-end laptop (PSA: don't edit video on low-end laptops). 10:48, the video file is exporting. 10:53, I'm furiously typing on the first of three screens on the contest website, hoping to get my personal info and the video submitted in the next 7 minutes. 10:56, the website malfunctions and won't take me to the screen to upload my video.

This is a true story.

10:59 - 11:01ish, Kathryn pulls up the correct screen on the other computer, I throw the video on our jump drive like a mad man, rush to the other room, and get it uploading.

Shortly after that, we get a failure message from the website - they obviously shut it off at 11:00.

No problem, I'll just email the company, explain the issue their website caused, and hope that someone will have the consideration to let me send in my video still, somehow. Two days later I receive a CYA response, with the applicable portion of the contest rules copied and pasted into the email. I was actually impressed how many scenarios they'd thought of beforehand, that they did have actual control over, for which they found a way to excuse themselves of any liability or responsibility.

Oh, well. I suppose the bright side has two parts to it:

1) I don't have to endorse coffee I would never drink, and

2) I have a fun song and video to share with you today*!

*Video does not constitute an actual endorsement for any products it may seem to be actually endorsing. JoeZone and its affiliates are in no way responsible for any dissatisfaction, bad tastes in mouths, vomiting, regrets, wasting of a few dollars or more, or yuckiness of any sort that are in any way connected to you seeing the preceding video and finding yourself unable to control the urge to go out and purchase the coffee advertised in the video.

Quick stats for ya

I'll leave it to Kathryn to give you the exciting updates on our near-finished marathon bathroom remodel.

I, on the other hand, will provide you with some exceptionally illuminating statistics:

17 - the number of months we've been in our work-in-progress house.
17 - the number of months it's taken me to figure out that caulking is my absolute least favorite thing ever when it comes to working on a house.
17 - the number of times last night, while caulking, that I considered packing our bags and moving us to a state park or Alaska or something so we could just live in a tent.
17 - the number of minutes it took me to scrub and scrape the dried caulk off my fingers after getting less than half the remaining caulking done in the bathroom.

Last, but not least:
17 - seventeen more than the number of people who are likely to want to return to my blog anytime soon after reading this post.

Hospitals and horse races

Nearly a week ago today, I almost lost my Dad. He frantically woke my mother up just after midnight Monday morning, barely able to breathe, much less get out the words for Mom to take him to the hospital.

6 days later, he's still in ICU, but has finally recovered to the point that they no longer keep him sedated (he threw a couple of nurses out the window for all the poking and prodding, I think), and they're steadily weaning him off the ventilator, which he was totally dependent on for breathing just days ago.

Our God is powerful and loving, and he has heard our cries.

Dad has self-published a couple of books now, and is working on a third. His published stuff has been about spirituality, and the third book he's working on is about the glory of God. He's been approaching the book from the perspective that he has a lot to learn before he feels like he can complete it and do it justice.

On a related note, one that my Dad will undoubtedly be thrilled that I've shared, I may have seen Dad truly weep for the first time in my life (and consequently the second, third, and so on). Some people would have probably kept better track of such a thing - all I can say is I don't remember any particularly weepy emotional outbursts (or even out-trickles) from my Dad. He said this, just after Kathryn and I (and baby) walked into the hospital ICU room Friday, and just before the waterworks began, "You are a beautiful sight. I forgot you were coming. You three are a beautiful sight." As you might suspect, Kathryn was also crying within seconds. While I only got misty, don't worry about me - if you're around me enough, you'll know that I cry fairly often during worship and Toy Story movies. I think, in addition to the humbling circumstances of being in the hospital (and ICU on top of that), the overwhelming display of love of so many family and friends really touched him. (We really packed out that room and the waiting room all week.) Dad, I think you've learned something about the glory of God. I think we all have.

We've also enjoyed some of your unfiltered, slightly drug-induced moments. I'll leave you all for now with something my Dad doesn't remember saying to my Aunt Lorna (his sister).

"I'm challenging you to a horse race. You and me. I bet you five dollars I can win."

We love you Dad. We trust the Lord for your recovery and restoration. And we all look forward to seeing you on that horse.

Floor no more!

Thumbs way up.

Gaze your eyes upon this marvel:

You might wonder why I would be so excited about a rather tacky-looking part of our house. Well, cease your wondering and hear this: last night I finished the last non-closet piece of hardwood flooring in the house. Considering that we started laying the floor almost a year and a half ago, this is quite a cause for celebration! You might notice that the final row of wood there is way skinnier than the other rows. I ended up ripping it lengthways. It got pretty tricky in the place where part of the drywall comes down lower than the rest - I had to chisel out a section of it so I could squeeze the strip in place. Lucky for me I'm so danged handy and clever.

So that's Done with a capital D (and a -one tacked on right after). Like I've surely said before on here, I'll say again - you should buy me a beer! Seriously, you should get me one.

I've got some closets left to finish, and in the remodeling of our main bathroom there will be some tile to lay, but getting to this point is a huge milestone. When projects drag this long, I tend to lose sight of the end, and suffer a lack of hopeful imagination. To be perfectly honest, if we ever buy another house, and someone tries to pitch to me that the house "has potential", I will probably go momentarily insane and give them the most painful wedgie ever experienced (this side of the Mississippi, of course).

Oh, and in case you're wondering what type of floor this is, it's cherry birch. I think the "cherry" part of that is really just the stain, 'cause the wood doesn't have a hint of red underneath.

So, in sum:

-All room-hardwood done,

-Buy Joe a beer, and

-Consider it wise (had to find a way to start this one with a C)
(and -onsider) to never tell me a house "has potential" unless you realize the same is true for your underpants.

Tales of Two Victories

Howdy y'all! Glad you could make it back after over a month of shirking on my part. You might read the title and assume more of a continuity between the ensuing tales than actually exists. Really they're only connected in that they're both part of my life, and both tell-worthy. Oh, and I'd better go ahead and throw this up there:

WARNING: Graphic images of man-over-nature conquest. Not for viewing during meals. Strong caution to anyone with a soft spot for annoying flying pests.

I haven't said anything on here about our trip to Tennessee in early November. It was great. We stayed with these people, this guy and his wife, and this guy. Other than a night in Chattanooga, TN, we spent the rest of the nine-day trip with these good friends. So good to see them all.

It was while we were with the Cavins in Murfreesboro (yes, that word has too many r's) that I decided to venture out for a game of disc golf. Though it was a difficult course, I was enjoying myself until about hole 13. First, I threw a disc into some bushes. Not a game-wrecker in and of itself, mind you. So I go to retrieve it.

New paragraph for dramatic emphasis. While bending down and pushing a side a branch, something flies into my ear. Yes, you read that correctly, a bug assaulted my ear. So I did the logical thing and began to freak out. I cussed the bug. Didn't help. Hopped around while bug-cussing. Nothin'. Pulled on my ear and ear lobe, attempting to widen the hole so bugzilla could make its exit. (Verbal abuse strategy still being executed at this point.) Nada. I figure maybe I can dig the sucker out with my pinkie finger. Nope. And now my ear is hurting a little bit from jamming my finger in. Not to mention burning from my own creative brand of tongue-assault.

I should also point out that there is a periodic throbbing from the beast flapping some kind of wings. Magnified, of course, by the proximity to my eardrum. Kind of like when you stick earphones in and don't realize all your volume controls are maxed out. But way more maddening because THERE'S A FRICKIN' BUG IN YOUR EAR.

Now, by this point I've started to make some observations and hasty doomsday conclusions. One, my disc golf game is pretty much over, because my ear is starting to hurt, and for all I know, I've busted my ear drum by digging around in there. Second, if I have in fact busted my eardrum, I might have to go to a hospital and the rest of the vacation is ruined. If it's not perfectly obvious to you already, I was ill-equipped to handle a bug in the ear.

I make for the car. Hopping, fuming, and pulling my ear all the way in hopes of evicting my unwelcome tenant and salvaging my game. I don't think too many people witnessed the spectacle. I race for the Cavins' house. By this point I'm unsure whether the intermittent throbbing is a result of the bug refusing to give in to death by earwax or the whooshing of wind past my busted eardrum.

I finally arrive at Casa Cavin. I burst inside and, upon seeing Kathryn, tell her gravely that I need her help. She comes into the bathroom and I bring her up to speed on the situation at hand.

"There's a bug in my ear. Either it's still alive, or I busted my eardrum and now it's throbbing from the wind."

"How would you have busted your eardrum? Did you jam something down in there?"

"I stuck my finger in to try and get the bug out."

"You wouldn't be able to reach your eardrum with your finger."

"Oh. Okay, good."

"Plus, your ear would be killing you."

"Okay, it doesn't hurt that bad. So it must still be alive in there."

At this point, we formulate a plan. From high school biology, I remember that bugs can be killed with rubbing alcohol. From high school lifeguarding, I remember that the stuff you use for swimmer's ear is basically just rubbing alcohol. So the first step is to drown the perp with alcohol. I lean over, pour some in, and there's a moment of extra-intense throbbing. Finally, it stops, and I know that whatever is in there is dead.

Jenny has an idea of how to get the thing out. Kathryn has already looked in my ear and can't see a thing. So we use a sucker bulb (the kind used to clean boogers out of babies' noses) to squirt, no, violently flood my ear with water. Kathryn did it once and it didn't work. I'm like, "okay, let's try it again, but you don't have to do it so hard this time." Jenny's all, "actually, sorry, it does need to be that hard." Take two. The water rushes painfully in. Bingo! It worked. Kathryn can see something big in my ear, so she grabs a Q-Tip and fishes it out. Guess what was in my ear. You ready for this?

A fly. A very large housefly. Or bushfly, perhaps? We've surmised that it was likely mutated and bred for being huge and nasty and evil. Wanna see it? Lucky for you, I've got before and after pictures!

Before (this is once the fly is first out of my ear):

After (once the fly got all that was coming to it):

So yes, justice was done. And I'm posting this on the interwebs as a warning and example to any and all (bugs, mainly) who think it might somehow be a good idea to get into my ear and buzz around and not leave in a timely fashion. Beware!

Now, on to another victory - baby! Kathryn and I are very excited that this coming Thursday we'll find out if we have a bell-pepper sized boy or girl! This is probably the biggest milestone yet of the pregnancy, though of course the pregnancy itself is a huge milestone given that for the 11 months prior to getting pregnant, we weren't able to get pregnant. God's been so good.

Something about knowing whether we'll have a boy or a girl makes this thing so much more real. Not that it hasn't seemed real yet. When your wife only ever wants to sleep, eat (only of necessity, though) and puke, it's pretty hard to ignore the reality that there's a baby in there. But soon we'll actually know something about our baby. Something more than he or she has a head and arms and legs and a beating heart, which are all amazing in their own right. It seems like the real beginning of discovering who this wonderful little person will be, and who the Lord will be making him or her. (It will also be the beginning of not having to constantly type "him or her" or "he/she" or "Floriberto/Floriberta".)

I wonder what else you will be, little one. A jock? An artist? A nerd? (Well, we kind of already know that one.) A comedian? (Again, no one is questioning this one.)

Will you be shy? Outgoing? Subtle? Pull-no-punches? Inquisitive? Fearless? Boundlessly energetic? Boundary-pushing? Bold?

I know you will be loved. Indeed, you already are. I know you will be brought up to be on constant lookout for the Lord, finding him in both unlikely and time-tested places. I know we will teach you to present those discoveries to the world so people can taste the goodness the Lord has baked deep into creation. I know you'll be someone who cares deeply about people, and constantly learns to better put their needs ahead of your own. I know you'll be a joy to know and see.

I'm excited about the surprises you'll bring us. About the ways you'll teach us to love and trust and not be so jaded about life.

I can't wait to hold you and kiss your little head. People will probably think I'm running for office.

I'm sure that moment will come soon enough! In the meantime, Mommy and Daddy have lots to do to get ready! This includes making sure your room has a floor. Aren't we the best?

Okay, readers, I'm talking to you again. Thanks for stopping by! I'll try not to make it forever between posts, but we all know how that can be. Until next time, remember what we've learned today:

-The only good bug is a mutilated bug, and

-Coming soon, Boy or Girl Peebles! We'll let you know!