Bigger than a plastic Wookie

Yesterday, our fetus reached the age of 15 weeks. According to the book, he/she is now about the size of a softball.

I've been tracking the size analogies, and we've gone from beans and nuts, to small fruits, to a fist, and now sports equipment.

I think that these comparisons are sometimes difficult to grasp. What good is it to know that your fetus is the size of an apple? I've seen apples that come in all kinds of different sizes. Granny Smith is not necessarily the same as Golden Delicious. It's all so confusing.

I'd like for the baby book industry to consider my idea. I suggest that they revamp the size comparisons to reflect more human characteristics. Instead of going from kidney bean to peanut to small plum to peach to apple to fist to softball, why not try this:

Week 5: Your baby is the size of an adolescent sea monkey.
Week 6: Your baby is the size of an adult sea monkey.
Week 7: Your baby is the size of a shrinky-dink after it's been in the oven.
Week 10: Your baby is the size of a Star Wars action figure.
Week 11: Your baby is the size of the Chewbacca Star Wars action figure.
Week 14: Your baby is the size of a bobblehead doll.
Week 16: Your baby is the size of a Barbie with a large head.
Week 17: Your baby is the size of a Ken doll with a large head and more defined genitals.
Week 23: Your baby is the size of a Smurf, but not as blue. (3 apples high)
Week 36: Your baby is the size of a cabbage patch doll.

Moonlighting

I'm a spender. I look for reasons to spend. My wife is somewhat supportive of my spending, but is mostly responsible for keeping me responsible. Just after we announced our "news", I came into a little bit of money courtesy of a few generous individuals who I like to get together with to play cards every two weeks. Typically, when blessed with a windfall, I like to go spend it before we have a chance to do something more responsible. With a new baby on the way, my interest in photography, and an inferior digital camera, it made sense for us to upgrade the mega-pixels and make a major purchase.

When we purchased our old camera, it was great. Now, it's outdated. I'm sure that in three years, I'll be writing about how my new camera is inferior, but at this moment it's everything I could ask for. Here it is:

Here are a few photos I've taken with it.

Now, I've been commissioned to take some professional headshots for a good friend of mine who happens to be an actor.

When he called me to ask if I'd do it, he said "The only rule is that you're not allowed to coach me like a photographer would coach a model. There will be no 'work it' or 'show me your angry muskrat look' or 'you go, girl' or any of that stuff."

I stuck to my guns, and used my poker skills to call his bluff. "I'm sorry. I can't do it, then. My only condition is that I can say whatever I want to you while I take the photos."

He quickly backpedaled. "OK. You can say whatever you want."

I guess he didn't have a backup photographer with a new camera waiting in the wings.

"And, when you come to the photo session, I want you to bring me a paper bag containing the fast food of your choice."

"Done."

"One more thing. I may ask you to wear a couple of funny hats."

"Fine."

The negotiations are over. I probably could have asked for more, but he's a friend. It will be a few weeks before we shoot the photos. With his permission, I will post some of the photos on this blog when it's all over. Maybe it will land him a juicy role.

Big Bucks, No Whammies!

According to a Gerber commercial I saw yesterday, the 300 millionth American will be born this October, and Gerber will be there for the baby.

Excellent! We are due in October.

I immediately went to Gerber's website to see what we can win. They directed me to another website, gerber300.com. As far as I can tell, there is no prize (other than the gift of life, of course). There is a counter, though, that keeps track of all of the babies born and I guess they've calculated that October is when the magical moment will happen. Are we supposed to call Gerber when our baby is born so they can update their website? This is the first I've heard of that. Who else do we need to call? Can we just call our immediate family and have them pass the word to second cousins, former neighbors, and baby food companies?
I'm a little irked that there's no prize. What did the 200,000,000th kid win? My estimation is that the 200 millionth birth happened sometime in the early 1900's, probably during prohibition. It couldn't have been an iPod, because they weren't invented yet. It was probably just a cotton gin or something, but at least they made an effort. I was hoping we could win a million dollars, or 300 million, or a lifetime supply of baby food. Maybe our baby's photo could replace the old Gerber baby on all of the jars of strained carrots and liquid turkey. Can we at least get a tote bag?

Maybe there is a prize and they're just not announcing it, in an effort to prevent fraud and deception. Technically, some unscrupulous parents-to-be could schedule a C-section, collude with their doctor and deliver one minute after the 299,999,999th child is born. I pledge that Mrs. Undaground and I will not do that. If we win this thing, we're gonna do it on the level.

Tuesday Stuff

Blogger Down
This network was down for some reason yesterday, and I couldn't post the Shakespeare insult generator til late in the afternoon. Sorry, for those of you who needed an insult and had nowhere to turn. If this ever happens in the future, remember the Sweathogs. Yes, I'm talking about the rag-tag bunch of misfits from Mr. Kotter's class. "Up your nose with a rubber hose" can bail you out of almost any situation.

Glad Hockey is Back
I forgot what it was like to watch the Flyers get blown out in a playoff game. 8-2 last night... not fun to watch. Honestly, I bailed out in the middle of the first period, when it was 4-0. Maybe it's the pregnancy, or the Steelers Super Bowl win, or the WVU Sugar Bowl win, or that there was no hockey season last year, but a Flyer's playoff loss just doesn't hurt like it used to. If they lose the next game, though, then I'll be pissed.

For all you American Idol Fans
Andrea Bocelli will be on the show tonight as the remaining contestants sing the greatest love songs of all time that Fox was able to get the rights to. Bocelli's the Italian pop-opera guy (not to be confused with rock-opera, or bluegrass-opera). Meanwhile, Ace is on the talk show circuit. I'm pleased to announce that he's still trying to stare into my soul through the camera, even though the last votes have been counted and he was eliminated. At least he's "staying true to himself, dawg".

Thou bootless fat-kidneyed puttock!

Looking for a comeback? Been insulted?

"I know you are, but what am I" and "I'm rubber, you're glue" will only take you so far.

Here's a Shakespeare random insult generator. Enjoy.

Helper Monkey

Very busy and a little under the weather today (It's probably just a cold, but there's a chance I have bird flu or the mumps).

Here is a story about a very special monkey.

Click Here

Just think of the household magic this animal could work if teamed up with The Clapper.

If I ever win the lottery... Helper Monkeys for Everyone!!! Of course, for myself, I will get a helper monkey to feed me jellybeans while I watch reality television.

...and I shall call him Steve.

Potpourri

Pregnancy Update
Mrs. Undaground is 14 weeks today. The baby is about the size of a fist, according to the book. There is a significant difference between the size of my fist and my wife's fist, so I guess the baby's size falls somewhere in between.

American Idol
I, for one, am elated that Ace is gone. I'm tired of his attempted eye sex with me and other viewers every Tuesday night. Maybe he and Constantine can start a boy band.

Love Ya
Mrs. Undaground left me a note last night to tell me she had fed the dog. She signed it with a doodle of a heart, followed by the word "ya". This morning, I saw the note again and decided to tease her about it.

"Love ya? That's so yearbook."

"I always write that."

"Three people from my 10th grade chemistry class wrote the same thing."

"I didn't have to sign anything, you know. You would have known who the note was from."

I guess she has a point, unless strange people are breaking into our house and feeding our animals.

No Instruction Manual

This weekend was an opportunity for Mrs. Undaground and me to "practice" with a small child. I prefer the term "babysit", but for our purposes, we'll call it practice.

The lucky child was the Undaground nephew. He's 9 months old now, and is at the crawling and standing up stage. This stage is probably a lot easier than it will be in a few weeks when he's walking.

Everything went very smoothly with our practice run. We took him to a restaurant, because that's something that we'll want to do with our own child. We also took him to church on Sunday, and he slept through most of the service. While he was awake, he just stared at the lady sitting next to him (I think he likes redheads). I am a regular viewer of Supernanny, so I explained my expectations to him before we entered both establishments. I'm not sure that he understands these things yet, but it seemed to be effective.

He ate everything we put in front of him. Mashed up green beans, baby food, bottle, water, veggie puffs, etc. He napped when it seemed appropriate (as did I), and he entertained us all weekend. I even took a little bit of time to practice my mock enthusiasm voice. I have a long way to go with that. The practice run was surprisingly easy. It was almost effortless. For Mrs. Undaground, I think it was nice for her to see that the morning sickness will ultimately subside and we will be left with a little human being. It energized both of us.

Even though everything went swimmingly with the child, the equipment was a different matter. There was nobody around to explain how to "shut" the stroller before we left the house. After about 15 minutes of trying to do it, Mrs. Undaground relieved me to take her second run at it. Just as I was about to figure out a Plan B, I heard my wife call out that she had closed it. Then, she said "As soon as I did it, it all seemed so simple." As a college graduate, I was a little frustrated by the whole stroller incident, but I figured it would someday be something to look back and laugh at, as I performed some baby task with great dexterity. Besides, without an instruction manual, some things are difficult to learn on your own. That's why they make instruction manuals.

After our visit to see the Easter Bunny (we were late and missed him), we rolled the stroller and the kid back to the car to go back home. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Undaground struggling with the stroller again. Apparently, whatever she had done to close it up the first time had happened accidentally. There we both were, for about 15 minutes, in 93 degree heat, struggling like a couple of idiots with the stroller. We pushed every button, yanked on every piece of plastic, and even tried the Fonzie maneuver by punching it (that was my contribution). At one point, a bitter, childless, arrogant woman walked by and threw back her hair. "You two must be new at this", she said.

"Do you know anything about strollers", I asked.

"No, sorry. I know nothing about them."

I was too busy to bother, but normally what I would say here is "Then please shut the hell up and go about your business". Instead, I just chuckled because I like to take abuse from stupid strangers.
Finally, I threw the stroller in the trunk in its open position and drove home with the trunk slamming up and down and my hazard lights on.

The next day, after church, an eerily similar incident happened as we tried to remove the car seat from the car. Eventually, my wife was able to extract the base of the seat after some minor surgery on the car and a great deal of teeth gnashing. My dental hygienist says that teeth gnashing can cause tunnel vision and forehead acne, so you can probably imagine how frustrated we were.

This weekend, we both learned that caring for a child is extremely simple. On the other hand, operating all of the equipment and accessories is extremely frustrating and much of it involves manic persistence, teamwork, and a willingness to be publicly embarrassed in order to get it right.

I guess that's irony, since we will soon find the exact opposite to be true.

(Editor's Note: I will not attempt the "Fonzie maneuver" with any living thing, just jukeboxes and strollers)

Namibian Birthing Suites

It seems like everybody's pregnant. I don't think it's any more people than usual, it's just that we notice it more. It's kind of like the movie "They Live" with Rowdy Roddy Piper. He gets a new pair of sunglasses, and when he wears them he can see all the aliens. We've seen a lot of pregnant women lately.

Mrs. Undaground has taken a greater interest in the supermarket magazines. With PittJolie and HolmesCruise (I refuse to conform) also pregnant, many of these publications have focused a lot of their attention on babies.

People Magazine is reporting that Brad and Angelina are planning to have their baby in Namibia. I'm guessing they don't do epidorals there, so I'm not sure we'd be interested in something like that. Apparently, they will also give their child a Namibian name. Mrs. Undaground has four baby naming books and there are countless websites devoted to the subject, but I can't find the top 10 most popular Namibian names. I did come across this website, where a writer discusses Namibian names and their meaning. I'm a little partial to "Kalambeehamba ". It rolls off the tongue.

Meanwhile, Tom and Katie are planning a "quiet birth". This is where there's no talking in the delivery room. I kind of like this idea for television viewing between the hours of 8 and 11, but I'm not so sure it's for us in the delivery room. I'd like the opportunity to commend Mrs. Undaground on her fine work and throw some trivia questions at her to distract her in between contractions. It is interesting in the article that Tom says if Katie needs pain medicine, she gets pain medicine. I thought Scientology forbids it, but I guess he'll make an exception. That's love. The article also reveals that Tom is attracted to Katie because she loves cupcakes (sources tell me that Nicole Kidman was more partial to twinkies). "Loves cupcakes" was just above "Will convert to Scientology" on his list.

That makes all the sense in the world to me. In fact, I love Mrs. Undaground first and foremost because she loves pancakes.

I look forward to the time where all of our kids get together for a multi-cultural, non-denominational playdate. I'm not sure that I'll allow any children or parents to jump on our couches, though.

Nursery Theme

Apparently, you need a theme for a room these days when you bring a child into the world. Simply splashing some pink or blue paint on the walls is no longer acceptable. Mrs. Undaground and I are currently negotiating this process.

"I have a great idea for a theme, and best of all, it's asexual", said my wife.

"If you say it's asexual, then that means it's for a little girl."

"No. This could be for a boy or a girl."

"I'm listening."

Wait for it...

"Hot air balloons", she said, proudly.

"Yep. That's a girl's room."

"How is hot air balloons only for girls?", she asked.

"I can't bring my boy into this world and then put him in a hot-air balloon room. We might as well just buy him dolls and call him Mary Anne or something."

"I don't think so, but maybe I will buy him dolls."

"If you want to do air travel, that would work for a boy's room. We can put a hot-air balloon in there, right next to the fighter jets, rockets, and scud missiles."

"What's wrong with just balloons?"

"I don't know. I can't put my finger on it, but when I close my eyes, I can see our kid in therapy 20 years from now saying 'They put hot-air balloons all over my walls as an infant'".

And so it begins. This process might take awhile. Feel free to post your suggestions here.

Pregnancy: Week 13

Mrs. Undaground's pregnancy hits 13 weeks today. The fetus is about 3 inches long, or about the size of a peach (but not quite as fuzzy). I found some week-by-week pregnancy sites on the internet here and here, and this is what they had to say about week 13:

As our baby continues to develop, the vocal cords begin to form. The face is looking more and more human each day as the eyes begin to move closer together instead of being on the sides of the head and the ears move to a normal position.

I'm glad this happens during fetal development and not early childhood. I doubt kids would be so cute if they had eyes on the sides of their head. Their peripheral vision would be excellent, however.

It would be possible now to determine the baby's sex by looking at the genitals if we could only get close enough. (We usually can't "guess" via ultrasound until around the 16th week.)

Stop looking at my baby's genitals. I'm serious.

Your high-risk period is over, and it's time to begin sharing the news. Hooray! Your morning sickness should be starting to subside.

Not so fast. Mrs. Undaground has perfected the spontaneous bathroom sprint, a maneuver usually reserved for Moroccan restaurants.

Yes, you're really having a baby! Now that the high-risk period is over, you probably have some pregnancy announcements to make. That is, if you've been able to keep the big news a secret.

We were expert secret-keepers. Water in a beer bottle and fake gin and tonics at parties can work wonders.

You should be seeing your doctor again: Make sure to track your progress in your pregnancy journal.

Journal? People are blogging nowadays.

If you haven’t quit smoking make today the day. That’s right. Take that pack and break it in half. If not for you, then do it for your baby. Find out why your body should be a smoke-free environment.

What!!! So smoking is OK through the first trimester? I've never heard that before. Maybe I should pick a different website for these weekly tips.

Meow! Who’s changing the cat box? Not you, I hope. Cat feces and raw meat can contain toxoplasmosis, a disease that can cause birth defects.

I've assumed cat litter responsibility on behalf of the family. I tried to pay a neighbor kid to do it, but they started a union and are currently picketing in front of the house. Now I'm convinced that I have toxoplasmosis because I've had some joint pain and a ringing in my ear.

For Dad
The joy of telling friends and family the news really helps settle in the reality that you're going to be a dad. Enjoy this time! If at all possible take a romantic weekend away to celebrate the victorious second trimester.

Thanks for the tips, but maybe you should warn Dads that Moms might start crying during Lowe's Home Improvement commercials. I'm very proficient at planning weekends but have a tendency to freeze up when my wife is crying about a hardware store.

Congraats

I worked late last night. Can't write much today. Tomorrow, an update on the pregnancy.

In the meantime, I saw that actors Peter Saarsgard and Maggie Gyllenhaal are expecting their first child.

Let me be the first to say: Congraatulations to both of them on their engaagement and on expecting a baaby, who should probably be named Aaron. Maaybe our kids can have a plaaydaate.

Dentist Chair Theater

As much as I dislike having my teeth cleaned at the dentist's office, I have to give my hygienist some credit. She programs her procedures much like the host of an FM radio show would.

Yesterday morning, as I sat in the chair, preparing for another serious breach of my personal space, she started her show.

"Let me just go put your information in the computer and I'll be right back to tell you about King Tut."

"OK, sounds good."

I'm not sure what I just agreed to. Immediately, I thought that she was going to take the opportunity to try to sell me some new dental service that may or may not involve gold teeth and lots of gauze wrap. I'm usually edgy as it is when I'm sitting in the defenseless dental chair position, so I started practicing my affirmative and negative responses knowing that I would soon have two hands and several sharp instruments in my mouth. "Uh huh." Good, that sounded like a clear "yes". "Uh uh." That could definitely pass for "no". Alright, I was ready for her sales pitch.

She came back and started poking around in my mouth. "So, I went to the King Tut exhibit down in Ft. Lauderdale."

Oh, I see. This isn't a sales pitch at all. This is a story. She clearly thought about what to talk about while she was driving in to work today. That's kind of cool.

"They found that King Tut had four impacted wisdom teeth, but he died when he was 19. If he had lived longer, he would have had some serious pain."

I said "clearly", but it sound like "eeee-eeee". I guess it could have passed for "Tee-hee" because she forced a laugh as well. I don't know much about King Tut, but being a King of any kind would probably be tough enough. Throw chronic mouth pain into the mix, and I can only imagine the difficulties he would face.

She continued. "And, did you know that DNA showed that his father was not actually his father. His real father was his grandfather." She removed her fist from my mouth so that I could respond.

"I didn't know that. That's incredible."

I was enjoying the break from the mouth-work, so I considered saying more about it, but I didn't have anything additional to add, so I opened wide again and tilted my head over so she could violate me a second time.

Over the next twenty-minutes or so, my hygienist ran through her list of stories as if she was reading the morning paper to me. For those of you who didn't have any dental work yesterday, or if your hygienist is less informed than mine, here's a few other facts I learned while in the dentist's chair.

• Tallahassee police are tougher than other police. Once, when her daughter was walking to a party with an unopened six-pack, they jumped out of the bushes to ask for her ID.
• I should use a soft brush all the time, never a medium brush.
• South Dakota is working on a new abortion law. Someday soon, it won't matter because there will be artificial wombs and they won't need people at all.
• Sensodyne is good, but Colgate for sensitive teeth is cheaper, and works just as well.
• A man in Texas paid $1 million to have his dog cloned. The dog looks the same but could end up with a completely different personality.
• When rinsing after a wisdom tooth extraction, it's one teaspoon of salt for every cup of warm water.
• Even when they say there's new technology to avoid locking keys in a car, it's still possible to do it, so you should always give a spare key to a friend or family member.
• Floss every day, not just before you get your teeth cleaned.

Holy Moses

Gwyneth Paltrow and the guy from Coldplay had their second child. Like many, I have been waiting to hear what they named this child, since the first kid is named Apple. This one was named Moses, but will forever be known by the nickname "Oranges".

Whoever tried to compare Apples to Moses? It doesn't make any sense. I respect that you went with a popular fruit to name the first child, but as Dr. Phil would say "You have to own it." Own it by following through. This child should be named after a delicious, healthy snack as well. How about Mango, Papaya or Seedless Grape?

Very disappointing.

Monday Morning

Good morning. In addition to a Monday at work today, I have a teeth cleaning and a trip to the DMV. Wow, those are three things that I strongly dislike. Maybe I'll get a paper-cut at some point today and go shopping at the grocery store right next to Century Village, then on the way home I can get stuck in traffic and change a flat tire.

I love Mondays.

For those of you who are paying attention, the Chicago Cubs at 4-1 and just swept the Cardinals. I know I've said this before, but this might be the year. If not this year, then next year, or definitely 2008.

You sure got a perty neck

So, it's been two-and-a-half months since I announced that I had Greg Brady hair. Since that day, I've waited. The hair was becoming a running joke among my family and friends. People began to look forward to seeing my "wings" more than they looked forward to seeing me. I had a Matthew McConaughey thing going with the hair and the voice, just not the pretty face or gym-built physique. I was looking less like the bunk-bed Greg Brady and more like the Greg Brady that moved into the attic and installed beaded curtains.

Last night, as I was driving home, something made me drive past the neighborhood to Supercuts. I think that something may have been my reflection in the mirror and the increasing time it's been taking to get ready in the morning. Lately, I've been doing less brushing my hair and more taming it.

I waited for my turn and sat down in the chair. The hairdresser/barber/whatever said "So I guess you're a scissor-cut?"

Clearly, my long flowing locks made her think that I'm a long-haired guy who just needs a trim. "No, I'm a clipper guy. This is a big job. I haven't had a haircut since October."

She could barely contain her amusement, but pressed on and began shearing my head.

I watched as the curls fell down the smock I was wearing and on to the floor. The gray-to-brown ratio had predictably increased once again. Feeling saucy, I engaged the woman cutting my hair in conversation. This is very unlike me; to incite smalltalk, but I guess I was relieved to be actually getting a haircut.

"I think I looked younger with the long hair. Problem is, I looked like a young slob."

"You're right. You did look like a slob. I was thinking that when you walked in here."

Wow, brutal honesty. You don't see that every day. Mercilessly, she continued.

"If you think that hair was doing anything for you, you're wrong."

Ouch. I get it. I'm in the chair. At least I can write about this conversation. OK, I'll play. "I thought that's how the kids were wearing it these days."

She quickly answered me: "Not on this planet."

I followed up with "Haven't you ever seen Ashton Kutcher?"

"Not in this chair."

After about 15-minutes, the transformation was complete. The hair was so long that I could have saved it for a makeover show or something. I think I'll have to keep it short now for awhile because I don't want my child's first vision in this world to be that of a hideous, bushy-haired old guy trying to look younger.

As dramatic as the haircut was, it only cost $12. I gave her $20 and told her to keep it. "That's for your honesty. Don't stop telling the truth. I'll be back in less than 6 months."

Sad Clowns

I was having a serious pregnancy craving, so Mrs. Undaground and I went with another couple to a hibachi place last night. We're both very fond of this style of food, and we've enjoyed it together once every 6 months-or-so since we started dating.

In addition to the delicious food, It's really just an entertaining treat to have it prepared in front of you. The chef is usually a cross between a skilled grill-man, samurai warrior, and circus clown. I've been mesmerized by this style of restaurant since I was a small child. I would choose Benihana as my "birthday dinner" not only to enjoy the good food, but mostly to see the ancient art of precision knife-work right in front of me.

I think there was a time when I was 11 or 12 where I wanted to be a Benihana chef for a living. I realize I'm not Japanese, but neither was "The Last Samurai", and they accepted him (even with the whole Scientology thing). I thought they could take me in and teach me, and I could help raise their kids and contribute strong ideas at village meetings, all the while learning to chop off shrimp tails at lightning speed and flick them anywhere. Maybe some sort of exchange program would have worked. My parents could have housed a Japanese boy for a few years and tought him how to become skilled with the remote control, win at Trivial Pursuit, and to use sarcasm more effectively.

So last night, I was very encouraged by our table. Shortly after my soup and my first Japanese beer (when in Tokyo....), another family joined us and there was a young boy there. Excellent. They always do all their tricks when there's kids involved. We'll get the works. Ha! Look interested boy. Don't screw this up.

The samurai arrived at the table and put some oil on the grill. He made smiley faces out of the oil. Cool. Keep it comin. Then, he did the egg thing where he flips it up with the spatula and catches it while it's spinning. I golf-clapped for him. The boy looked uninterested. Maybe he had a vision problem, or he was malnourished. I don't know. The chef then made the onion slice volcano, and fire shot from the grill. Woo-hoo. The boy was not impressed. Maybe his father's an acrobat or fire-eater and spinning an egg is too elementary.

I was rooting for the chef. It was the equivalent of a stand-up comic bombing on stage. I was doing my best to cheer him on, like the comic's brother-in-law clapping in the back of the room and offering courtesy laughter at a high volume. Nothing. Somewhere after the onion volcano and before the shrimp appetizer, the chef's spirit was broken, and he gave up. He never performed another trick. Yes, the steak, shrimp and chicken was awesome, like a party in my mouth, but underneath it all was a layer of sadness.

Some entertainers would push harder in a situation like that. Maybe they'd try a dangerous new trick, or fall down to get laughs. Not this guy. He had too much pride for that. Hibachi chefs are nothing if not proud. They've spent too many nights bandaging their fingers and treating minor burns to have to embarrass themselves. I respect him for that. Here's to you, clown.

Jumping the Shark

Yes, the Page 6 rumors are true. Access Hollywood's speculation is correct. Mrs. Undaground is officially with-child.

I'm guaranteeing that this won't make "The Undaground" jump the shark. I know that the introduction of a child has marked the beginning of the end for many American classics such as Married With Children, Friends, and The Cosby Show (after Rudy got too old, they brought in a cuter, younger model).

I am convinced that, from this day forward, I will have instant blog material for life. I had no idea how easy it is to make a pregnant woman cry. I'm just now learning this, yet each day I somehow stumble over one of the buzzwords that bring on the tears, like "griddle", "notepad" or "fern". I know, who would be so insensitive to utter griddle in front of a hormone factory like that?

For the record, our due date is October 19th. I have plans to golf that day, so I hope Mrs. Undaground can hold out til early evening.

Song Lyrics

"With Arms Wide Open"

Creed

Well I just heard the news today

It seems my life is going to change

I closed my eyes, begin to pray

Then tears of joy stream down my face

With arms wide open

Under the sunlight

Welcome to this place

I'll show you everything

With arms wide open

With arms wide open

Well I don't know if I'm ready

To be the man I have to be

I'll take a breath,

I'll take her by my side

We stand in awe, we've created life

With arms wide open

Under the sunlight

Welcome to this place

I'll show you everything

With arms wide open

Now everything has changed

I'll show you love

I'll show you everything

With arms wide open

With arms wide open

I'll show you everything ...

oh yeahWith arms wide open..wide open

[Guitar Break]