Oye Como Va

Last night was the Santana/Los Lonely Boys concert. It was muy bueno. My in-laws came in for the show and are staying at mi casa until Saturday. Me gusta Santana. Now that the concert is over, we are officially ready to have el bambino at any time. We have no more scheduled plans; we're just waiting for the baby to drop. The due date is now nineteen days away. This weekend, I will install car seat bases in both of our carros, and that will be the last bit of preparation.

Here are some highlights from the Santana show:

• Carlos Santana greeted the audience in English, then Spanish. Even with a rudimentary understanding of Espanol, it was clear to me and the other 20,000 people there that he was saying the same thing in both languages. Well, it was clear to 19,999 of the other people because when he started saying "Hola" in Spanish, the woman in front of us yelled to her friend: "JESSE, WHAT THE HELL IS HE SAYING?" I guess Jesse was the linguistics expert in the bunch.
• At one point Carlos Santana sang along to the music and said "Jump, jump, jump, jump." I would like to apologize to Mr. Santana, since neither me nor my wife actually left the ground at this time, despite his encouragement. First, I looked at Mrs. U and said "Don't jump honey." I didn't want labor to begin. Then, I didn't jump because of empathy for my wife (and an inability to actually jump while standing on an inclined lawn.) I'm not sure that my synapses fire any more when my brain tells my legs to jump. It's just a sign of aging. I do think I could still get some "air" on a trampoline or in a zero-gravity environment, but it's not so easy anymore in a concert setting.
• The Undaling woke up and moved quite a bit when Los Lonely Boys began their set. Then, a beautifully-harmonized ballad put him back to sleep. When Santana took the stage, the baby continued his slumber. Finally, when they began to play "Oye Como Va", I let out a concert yell. To review, my concert yell is a sound that I only make when viewing live music (it really wouldn't be appropriate anywhere else). The folklore surrounding my concert yell has grown, and now the people I attend concerts with wait for it, then acknowledge it when it happens. I'm not sure if it was my concert yell that woke the child, or the first few bars of Oye Como Va, but nonetheless, he was up and rocking the womb once again. It's good to know that he appreciates an eclectic mix of music, since this is the first time we've noticed him responding to a Latin rhythm. I can't wait to help him develop and nurture his own concert yell.

Viva Santana!

Mom in the Express Lane

I'd like to share with you an email exchange between my mother and me yesterday. Seems I'm not the only one having strange conversations in supermarket checkout aisles:

Mom: So, I go to the supermarket yesterday for a variety of items. The check out person is a heavy-set, 19-ish, sweating-profusely male named Gary. He does not say 2 words to me while scanning my items. I handed him my Shoprite card silently – watched him move in slow motion while the theme from Chariots of Fire was going through my head. He never told me my total, I simply looked at the monitor and did the drill on the debit card not seeing the need for conversation. I actually thought he might be mute – until – after my order was bagged and in my cart, he decided to speak and asked me the question that must have been on his mind for a long time – “So, what is hummus?”

The Undaground: Nice. Did you answer? Chickpeas?

Mom: I was so thrilled that I was the chosen one to provide the information that I went into too much detail. “It’s chickpeas, you know garbanzo beans – sometimes people call them chi chi beans. They blend some other flavoring in it, garlic and such. This brand Sbarro is the best. My son and daughter-in-law introduced me to it when they were in town for Christmas. You eat it with flatbread or even crackers. I like the flatbread – not pita, you don’t need the pocket. Grill the flatbread over the burner on your stove for a minute or two. It’s delicious. Try it, you’ll be hooked. If you like this, you’ll most likely love babaganoush”

The Undaground: Good answer. Did you watch "Old Man Bites Tenderly" yet? It's all the rage.

Old Man Bites Tenderly

Somebody sent me a very funny clip of a Japanese game show. I've tried to put it on the Undaground, but it won't seem to work.

So, here's the link

Take 9-minutes of your life to enjoy this. Don't try any of it at home. If you must try it, do it in a library.

And... Exhale.

Lamaze class is over and we are now ready for labor, whenever it begins.

I realize that this little tirade I'm about to go on is selfish. I realize that I sometimes let little things bother me. Mrs. Undaground knew what she was getting into, and may very well be carrying another human being with similar hang-ups as me.

To review, our Lamaze class supposedly runs from 7 to 9pm. The first week, we were held there until about 9:45. The second session ended on time without incident. Last night, about 5 minutes after the clock struck nine, our teacher said something like this:

"OK. Hmmm. What time is it?" (looks up at large clock on the wall).

I looked at Mrs. Undaground. "I think she's gonna let us go. It's over."

The teacher looked away from the clock, as if it burned her eyes. "Alright. I want everybody to get into a nice, relaxed mode now. Cuddle up and get comfortable. There's a relaxation CD I want to play for you called 'Childbirth Relaxation'. Everybody just focus on relaxing. Dads too."

How dare she! What a slap in the face. Are you kidding me? I will not relax. I am fixated on the fact that you are keeping us past our agreed-upon class time. Unless this CD is two-minutes long, I'm not feeling it lady!

The CD began with a song about welcoming a baby to the world. Despite the sweet words and music flowing through the room, I began to think about things the teacher could have done to make me less-relaxed:

• Placed a live cougar in the middle of the room and strung a rope of meat around my neck.
• Lit my foot on fire.
• Told me she was going to steal our minivan and headed out of the room.
• Throw darts at us.
• Play some of those Jetta commercials where the people get in sudden car crashes.
• Give me a hand-massage in front of the entire class. (Oh never mind, she already did that at 8:45)

After the song was over, a woman's voice came on the CD. She began by describing the feet and telling us to relax our feet. Then she described the ankles and told us to relax our ankles. Each body part was taking about two to three minutes to describe. Tapping into my own basic knowledge of human anatomy, I realized that this was not going to end any time soon. I looked at Mrs. Undaground, who knew we were living on borrowed time. "I'm going to the bathroom."

I walked into the bathroom and just stood there. The room was so freaking quiet at this point with people "relaxing" that I knew I couldn't pee. I knew from sitting next to the bathroom for three weeks that it's possible to hear every thing that goes on in there. Why put on a show for these people? I knew that any sound I made in the bathroom would be background music for this woman's soothing voice.

Knees, thighs, buttocks. She kept slowly moving up the body.

I washed my hands for no particular reason and returned to my chair. You know, we may have been able to relax had this happened at 8:30. I looked at my watch again. 9:20 now. I looked up at the teacher. Is she sleeping? What the hell? Mrs. Undaground was pretending she was relaxed but really she was just trying to keep me from making a scene.

The CD continued, "Feel your elbows. Imagine your elbows are pointy pillows. Now pretend your elbows are dripping candles. Feel as the wax of your elbows drips down onto the microfiber couch that is your lap. Now your elbows are floating. You're doing a relaxing chicken dance. Feel your elbows flap and flow and relax. Breathe. Now think of your elbows as fuzzy little bunnies on a bed of lime jello......."

Then, it happened. Out of the corner of my eye. I saw another couple gather their belongings and slip out the door. And then there were 5. Five pathetic couples in the room.

Crap, we missed our chance. Now what? Do we follow the leaders like a couple of sheep?

Two minutes later, another couple began to stir. Maybe this was the lesson the teacher was trying to teach us. Maybe we're supposed to each gather the courage to get the hell out of there, much like we will gather the courage to leave the hospital. Sure, that sounds right.

Before the second couple got out the door, we made our move. We grabbed our pillows and pushed in our chairs with the quickness and precision of a military operation. We both waved through the darkness to our warden, like a couple of convicts making parole. I saw her flinch for a split second, as if she was going to chase us down and tackle us, forcing us to listen to more well-disguised torture. Then, she changed her mind, smiled and waved back. And just like that (poof) we were gone.

Then we went home and relaxed. Good riddance.

Baby Got Back

I'm pleased to announce that the Undaling is facing the right way, and that rumors of a "breech baby" were inaccurate.

Turns out the lump at the top of Mrs. U's belly, that we thought was his head, is actually his rear end. Baby got back. He's estimated at 6 lbs. 1 oz. right now and apparently, he is "very long". During the ultrasound, he was holding one of his feet in his hand (a level of flexibility that I haven't enjoyed since the 80's.)

The bad news is I really have to pay attention in Lamaze class tonight, because it is the last class and it looks like we're going to need to know how to breathe properly after all.

Life in the Express Lane

So I stopped by the supermarket on the way home from work yesterday. We were out of dog food. Naturally, I picked up a few other seemingly random items as well.

My cart was filled with the following things:

• Big bag of Kibbles and Bits
• 12-pack of Heineken Premium Light
• 2 packages of break-and-bake cookies (don't judge me, she's still pregnant).
• 1 bag of Tostitos Yellow Corn chips. (because I have more salsa than chips right now).
• One impulsively-purchased NY Times bestseller. (to have reading material for the hospital).

I did some quick math. 6 items. Woo-hoo. Express lane.

As I waited in a line that was 3-deep, the old lady in front of me began to slowly move her items to the counter. She had some non-descript foodstuff and a jug of apple juice. I watched her closely as she lifted the apple juice, just in case this caused her to collapse. I don't have any emergency medical training, but I'm pretty sure I could catch a falling old lady based on my experience playing softball. She managed to hoist the apple juice to the counter by swinging it and throwing in an old-lady grunt (which is not quite as manly as my grunt, but I digress.) Then, in a methodical, sad, deliberate way she uttered the following phrase to nobody in particular:

"My ice cream is melting."

What?!? I looked again at her items. There were no more than ten products in front of her (it was the express lane, after all). There was no freaking ice cream. In fact, there was neither a freezer item nor a dessert. What did this mean? I don't talk to strangers unless I absolutely need to, so I didn't say a word. Did I imagine this? Is "my ice cream is melting" some kind of euphemism for an elderly ailment? What the hell is going on? Was she talking to me, or to herself? Am I crazy? Why is it that insane people make me question my own sanity? Should I get more salsa just in case the new bag of chips throws off the chip to salsa ratio in my home? Who is this mystery woman, and why does she think her ice cream's melting?

By the time I was finished asking myself questions, she was walking out of the store and on her way back to her rent-controlled condo in Crazytown. Nice to know I'd be sharing the road with her in a few minutes.

I waited patiently as the inevitable cashier switch-out happened right as it was my turn. I swear that those supermarket supervisor bastards wait by the door for me, then intentionally do this right as I reach the register.

The store has new, fancy computer screens there now, so I watched as "Whittney" with two "T's" logged out and "Chase" logged in. Chase had very fast fingers, and the register switch-out went surprisingly quick. Chase was obviously pleased with himself. I translated the smirk on his face to mean "Screw the mean bullies in high school gym class who make fun of my complexion, this is my territory and I can input a 30-cent coupon faster than any of them. Someday, I will be a captain of industry." He snapped back to reality (for just a brief moment) and addressed me.

"Oh, hello sir."

"How you doin?", I said because I felt obligated to greet him.

He looked down at my 6 items.

"Having yourself a little party, huh?" He said it like we were buds... Just two cool guys hanging out at a register.

Dumbfounded, I looked at my items again. Did I accidentally throw some colorful paper plates and a cake in my cart? What's going on here. There's beer. OK, beer is essential to any party. What else? Chips. Sure, why not have a beer and chips party. Dog food. Dog food? Reading material. Maybe it's a book club party. Cookies with some assembly required. Did this eclectic mix of items-for-purchase indicate that I was having a party? I mean, I've gone to the very same store to prepare for many parties and the bill is usually much higher, and the party items are much more obvious. What kind of party does this pimply-faced monster attend? I don't know how to answer that. I guess I'll give it my best shot, since he apparently won't be ringing me up until I answer his stupid question.

"That's right. A beer and dog food party", was the best I could do.

"Hey, whatever works", said Chase.

Just get me the hell out of here. Is it me? Am I the one who's crazy. Do we really have such a fear of silence that we must fill those moments with whatever random phrase enters our heads? For me, there is no such thing as "uncomfortable silence", especially in public. In my world, all silence is comfortable. And apparently, all old people and teenagers are freaking looney-tunes.

Tivo Alert

Tonight, The Office and My Name is Earl have their season premieres on NBC.

At the same time, Survivor is on CBS.

If you're like me, and you have Tivo, watch them both. If not, you have a Sophie's choice-like decision to make. My heart goes out to you.

In other TV news, did anyone check out Studio 60 on Monday? It's very good. Now I have another show to worry about.

I guess I have a finite amount of time to watch these things before the Wiggles and Spongebob take over our lives.

Pregnancy Update

Well, we've reached another milestone. Today, Mrs. Undaground is 36 weeks or officially 9 months pregnant.

Whatever she does in the next month should be carefully documented, so that someday she can tell stories ending with the phrase "when I was 9 months pregnant."

For instance...

"I went to a Santana concert when I was 9 months pregnant"

"I worked right up until my due date when I was 9 months pregnant"

"I went cliff-diving in Acapulco when I was 9 months pregnant"

"I kicked a 43-yard field goal when I was 9 months pregnant"

"I hunted and killed a wild boar when I was 9 months pregnant"

Our ultrasound has been moved to Friday afternoon. That's two more days for the baby to decide to turn around. Since I know he can hear sounds from the outside world, I've been speaking to Mrs. Undaground's belly. Last night, I promised him a pony for his fifth birthday if he gets in a head-down position before Friday. If not, he's getting socks and underwear. I hate to strong-arm the kid, but I haven't watched Supernanny for awhile so I've conveniently forgotten that you're not supposed to negotiate with them when they're this young.

Mrs. U is extremely uncomfortable these days. Her feet are swollen beyond belief. They look like flesh-colored clogs right now. The anxiety of labor is being overpowered by the desire to not be pregnant anymore. I guess that's how the circle of life works.

Speaking of the circle of life, I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do at the very moment when the baby is born. I'm not sure if the nurses will allow this, but I'd like to hold him over my head proudly on top of a scenic mountain overlook while Elton John sings... like they did in the Lion King. Anybody know of any scenic mountain overlooks in South Florida? I think the closest thing might be the balcony at the movie theater. Then again, I've always complained about babies in movie theaters. See, fatherhood is already changing me.

Seuss Nursery: Why stay cooped up in the womb, when you can chill out in your room?

(click image for larger view)

Good Monday Morning

Woo-hoo. The nursery is officially done... Photos coming to the Undaground tomorrow.

Mrs. U and I took the opportunity this weekend to eat dinner out on Friday and Saturday. We also went to a movie on Saturday and had breakfast out on Sunday. This is the phase where we're getting all this stuff out of our system.

Lamaze #2 is tonight. I hope that she ends on time, because the Steelers are playing Monday Night Football. Tivo is a man's best friend, though.

We have another ultrasound on Wednesday to figure out which way the baby's facing. Right now, we think he's sideways. Wednesday will be 36 weeks, so he still has time to get in the proper position. I read on the internet that playing music and shining a light near Mrs. Undaground's "pelvic bone" might lure the baby to the head-down position. I'm currently scanning the trade magazines for a lighting expert and a sound engineer. No luck yet, but stay tuned. We're still planning to go to the Santana concert on Sept 28, so maybe they'll let us sit on the roof of the ampitheater.

Oh, the movie was "The Last Kiss" starring Zach Braff and I recommend it.

And the beat goes on...

I hope you all had a chance to watch some of the carnage on ESPN last night. My neck hurts this morning and I think it's from watching Steve Slaton run up and down the field.

It's a wonderful time to be a Mountaineer.

As for Survivor, it is resting comfortably on my Tivo and we will watch it this weekend.

Television News

I have many important television news items to pass along. Premiere week is upon us, so get your Tivo's fired up.

1. Survivor starts Thursday night. Teams will be divided by race this year. I've decided I'm rooting for the Hispanic team, because my Hips Don't Lie.

2. Very exciting news... Little People, Big World is returning for a second season on TLC. If you know me, you know I have a great appreciation for little people and I actively support the LPA - Little People of America, although technically I'm 18 inches too tall to become a member of their organization. More info on the show's return here.

3. Rock Star: Supernova season finale is tonight. I think I want Magni to win, but it doesn't matter much. I don't see myself buying their music, but I do enjoy the show. Apparently, Supernova will not be Supernova. They need a new name. Read about that here.

4. NBC has football again, and the theme song rocks. Wanna know why? Because it's composed by John Williams. Cool article on John Williams here.

5. Speaking of football, tape Survivor on Thursday night and watch the Mountaineers take on the Maryland Terrapins. Kickoff is at 7:45pm on ESPN.

The Under-Appreciated Art of Breathing

Last night, Mrs. U and I had our first Lamaze class.

Before I tell you about our passive aggressive Lamaze teacher, let me share some incredible knowledge I picked up last night. I've put some of the trickier terms in bold so you can look them up later if I move too fast.

When you breathe in and fill your lungs with air, this is called inhaling.

When you expel that air from your lungs by breathing out, this is called exhaling.

I may not have absorbed and remembered all of this info if our teacher didn't take 30 minutes to explain this difficult concept to us. I've found that life is already so much easier now that I'm armed with this important information. Turns out, sometimes I would inhale twice in a row without exhaling. That's hard to do, unless you're a circus performer or you're in a reggae band. Other times, I would exhale twice while forgetting to inhale. Now that I know what I was doing wrong, I suspect that I'll be wheezing a lot less.

Mrs. Undaground did learn some good information about positioning herself for maximum comfort during labor. I learned how to rub her back in front of a room full of people while she assumes these positions.

The class was supposed to run from 7pm to 9pm (3 Monday nights in a row). Well, when we got there, the doctors were having a meeting in the Lamaze class room. So, we waited, and waited, and eventually the room was seized by a stampede of impatient pregnant women and their backrubbing partners. Once the class actually began at about 730pm, the teacher said she would shorten her lesson so that we'd finish on time.

I guess she really inspired herself, because somewhere in the middle of her inhaling and exhaling lecture, she decided to scrap that plan and just give us the director's cut, unedited, full 2-hour version, unbeknownst to us.

At 9pm, as people started quietly gathering their chattle to prepare for their exit, she began launching into our next exercise, which was extremely similar to the previous exercise. One Lamaze partner in the class asked, "Umm, so what time are we getting out of here?". This was apparently all it took for the battle of wills to begin.

"9:30", the teacher said proudly. She had more to tell us, and it couldn't wait til next week, or the week after.

I guess sometime between 9 and 930, Lamaze teacher decided that she was bothered by the man's question, because 930 came and she pressed on. The non-verbal cues in the room from each and every couple for her to stop were so strong that I felt like I was on the floor of the stock exchange for a moment.

Finally, at 9:40, she popped the last 1970's birth film into the VCR. We watched as "Carl" helped his wife through labor. Then, we saw what they don't show you on TLC. The one thing Mrs. U and I both took from the film is that if you feather your hair and wear polyester, labor becomes a little easier for some cosmic reason. Seriously, could somebody update those films? The children being born in them are probably going through menopause now. Are you telling me that nothing has changed in 30 years?

At about 9:45, Lamaze teacher opened it up for questions..... again. One teacher's pet asked a question as a collective groan of Monday Night Football fans hovered over the room.

Eventually, we were on our way home, where we fell right asleep and now here I am at work again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some homework to do. I'm trying to practice the inhale/exhale thing to the point where I can do it without thinking about it. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, inhale, inhale, COUGH, COUGH, Oops. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

Never forget

The Champ is Here!

Ahhh, the morning traffic is always a little less annoying after a big victory.

Happy Friday. Mrs. U and I have a big weekend planned: more nursery painting on Saturday, college football at a sports bar on Saturday night (guess who's driving), and fondue restaurant (the Melting Pot) on Sunday night.

Hormones

I've watched a lot of movies and heard many anecdotes about when a woman goes into labor.

"YOU DID THIS TO ME!!!"

"C'mon honey, we can do this."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN "WE"? YOU BASTARD!!!"

Honestly, I've never seen my wife even approach this level of angry intensity, but I'm told this type of thing happens very regularly. I'm ready for it, and I won't be surprised if we share this very exchange, but I still can't picture it.

There's a girl at work whose due date is one week before Mrs. U's. She's always been a very calm, quiet girl, as far as I know. The other day, I was walking through the office when, out of nowhere, she grabbed my arm.

Startled, I looked to see who was grabbing me, when a saw a set of angry, red eyes glaring back at me. She was breathing heavily through her nose, not unlike El Toro. Apparently, the fact that she was pregnant, and that I, as a man, had recently impregnated somebody also, was enough to make me a target. I felt like a scared matador, wrapped in a big comfy red blanket. Then, she spoke.

"IF YOUR WIFE FEELS ANYTHING LIKE ME... YOU BETTER KISS HER ASS!!!"

And just like that, she was gone.

I appreciate good advice and have decided to set into motion "Operation Kiss-her-ass". So, tonight as I watch the Pittsburgh Steelers opening game, instead of reaching for the beer and chips, I will probably reach for the two swollen feet on the other end of the couch... and I shall rub them vigorously.

Go Steelers.

Looks a lot like the first trimester

Waiters who are nauseated by food.

Enjoy this clip featuring Steve Carell and Stephen Colbert. It's from the short-lived
Dana Carvey show.

Weekend in Review

1. To show further proof that I love my wife more than football, I want to say this first: Happy Birthday Mrs. Undaground. Her birthday was actually Sunday, but we will continue to celebrate throughout the week, culminating in a trip to the Melting Pot this weekend for some delicious meats and cheese, fondue-style. Mrs. U is the proud new owner of "Oprah's Favorite Robe", available online. I trust Oprah, so I'm hoping the robe keeps its super-soft texture through her entire maternity leave. I got her a pair of slipper from the same company, but no mention of Oprah. Perhaps Oprah has some other favorite slippers that I'm unaware of.

2. WVU disposed of in-state stepbrother Marshall in impressive fashion. 42-10 for any of you who are keeping count. This week, it's Division I-AA powerhouse Eastern Washington. Thanks again to the Sarasota Mountaineer fan club for a good time on Saturday. To cap off a glorious college football weekend, the Miami Hurricanes lost last night. That ranks just behind a WVU win when it comes to making me happy.

3. Of course, it couldn't be a perfect football weekend. Despite a stellar live fantasy football draft featuring much fried food and beer in Sarasota, there was some bad news. Ben Roethlisberger is out for the season opener because he had emergency surgery to remove his appendix. And yes, I just typed "emergency surgery to remove his appendix" to avoid trying to spell "appendectomy". Although now that I look back, I think I spelled it correctly.

4. RIP. Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin. What a shame. I have enjoyed many hours of entertainment on Discovery Channel and Animal Planet thanks to him over the years, and now he's gone. I'm sure he will live on in reruns and someday my little boy will jump on our cat and say "Crikey", but the world of dangerous animal entertainment has lost a shining star.