Update

OK, here’s what’s going on, in a nutshell:

• Meg has been home for the last week after being in the hospital for pre-term labor twice in five days. She and the kid are doing pretty well. She’s on terbutaline, a smooth muscle relaxant, to control any contractions that may crop up. As those of you who know her may rightly assume, Meg’s been doing all sorts of research about her condition as has found evidence to suggest that Terbutaline may not be effective after 48 hours. So. Oh yeah, she’s also on bed rest until the 7th of December, when the kid reaches week 36 and can be supported in the OB unit of the local hospital instead of requiring a trip to the regional neonatal ICU in Duluth.
• The kid is fine. S/he is rolling around, pummeling Meg most of the time. We think the kid is going to be a girl. We think she’s going to be born in the early morning of Dec. 27 after Meg goes into labor on the 26th, and we think she’s going to weigh between six and seven pounds. Of course, we have no evidence to support any of the above, but hey, it’s first-time parents’ peragotive.
• I’m doing pretty well, thanks mostly to my friends, and especially Pete who went to the gym with me last weekend when I was about at my wit’s end. We played racquetball for two hours, then spent a little while beating the heavy bag into shape. That was just what the doctor ordered. Well, almost. Once Pete and I both get some pads, full contact sparring just might take the heavy bag’s place more often than not.
• As I’m sure any of you who’ve been paying attention have noticed, the novel isn’t happening in November. It was a nice idea, but life intervened. That’s OK. I’ll bring the novel along as it comes along. And also, I’ve decided that since most of my ideas come to me in little flashes, that’s how I oughtta catch them. Hence, “Jack Be Quick.”

I think that’s pretty much the sum total of all the news from the Flying W Ranch right now, except to note that I am currently a “Sherwin-Williams Store Sales Associate.” Oh, paint boy…

At the hospital

The wife’s in and out of pre-term labor since Wednesday afternoon. At hospital. So far, everything’s fine. Labor stopped, kid in good health and (apparently) spirits. Mom also. Dad less so. Fingers crossed, lack of faith somewhat tested. Dogs hungry and wet. More later.

Truly disgusting

You know what’s truly disgusting? Sneezing with half-chewed chocolate in your mouth. That’s just nasty.

Such a good boy

So, yeah, I’ve got this little issue with the X-box. I get a game, I dissapear from the world until the game is done or the consequences for my dissapearing act get to be too high. Then, grudglingly (if the game isn’t done), or perhaps with a bit of culture shock (if I’ve been immersed in the game long enough to finish it), I come back to this physical reality.

It’s a little odd, perhaps, and maybe alarming to some, but let’s face it: my “addiciton” could be to something much more destructive. Say, crack. I don’t actually think I’m an addict yet; I think I’m still a recreational user because I can make choices about my gaming. Like turning the box off. Or limiting my playtime on my own accord.

Or, and these are two choices I’m pretty proud of, not buying Fable and Halo 2 for myself. I spent four whole days — OK, I did sleep, some — playing Fable when I rented it. And when we (that’d be the Wife and me making a joint purchase) bought Halo, we played it through start to finish. Boom.

But now, with 50 days until bebe comes, more or less, I’ve got other things I need to do. Like get the house ready. Like help the Wife practice for labor. Like get into house-dad mode. Yeah, I’m being a good boy, and it’s not being forced on me, either. These are changes I want to make. After all, a guy’s got to have priorities.

Oh don’t worry, the box isn’t going away. It’ll be there for me once I get a little bit of sleep after the kid comes, and once things settle down a little. I’m sure there’s gotta be a half-hour in any day where I can slay aliens or terrorize digital townsfolk.

And if you buy a game for me, well, that’s your fault.

Back

Yeah, I’m back from X-box land. I rented “Fable” last week and got a little lost. But here I am again. Posting, though seriously, SERIOUSLY behind on my novel. But that’s OK. Maybe I’m not a novelist. I’m good at fiction and creative non-fiction and reasonably adequate at poetry and trying my best to be a great husband and dad. Isn’t that enough? I say it is.

On daddyhood

I’m totally excited to be a dad. I think it’s gonna be awesome.

And it scares the hell out of me. What do I do when the kid is crying? What about green poop? I know intellectually that I’ll figure out all this stuff as I go along, but that’s not gut confidence yet.

And speaking of head versus heart knowledge, I’m going to be a mostly-stay-at-home dad. Wow. That’s something I’ve always wanted, but now that it’s right here, I wonder if I’m equipped for it. I mean, yeah, I know I am, and I know that I’ll do the best job I possibly can which will be plenty good enough, and I know I’ll be a great dad, but I don’t *know,* you know?

I’m trying like heck to give myself permission to not know all the answers, or even all the questions as I go into this change. That’s not easy for someone who always has it down. I mean, for crying out loud, this weekend on my way to spar with black belts in a combat martial art, I held forth for almost thirty minutes on the difference between jet engines and rocket engines and how nitrous oxide is obviously a great oxidzer for rubber. But a wailing, green-poop-covered infant makes me quail and cower.

The one great saving grace here is that I *know* kids are resiliant. I can make some mistakes — I will make mistakes, and probably more than some — and it’ll be OK as long as I learn from them. And hell, this is an opportunity that very few other dads ever get; to stay at home and tend to their kid and really get to know him or her and forge a buckyball-strong father-child bond.

Home again, home again

I made it home, doing the last part in chunks because Greg and I kept stopping to see the northern lights which were not only early in the evening, but completely spectacular.

Yesterday was a long one: I signed papers to allow Sherwin-Williams to do a background check on me to make sure I’m not too violent or psychopathic to sell paint. The assistant manager at the store told me the checks usually take about a week for the corporation to do, and then I’d be able to start training in sometime next week.

After the great signing, I went over to Sarah and Sammie and Plinio’s place and helped them rip half their roof off so they can replace it with a model that doesn’t leak. It was a good time, and nice to get outside to do some physical work. Of course, I still have six or seven cords of aok waiting for me at my place, too…

And after working on the roof (and rescuing the wife from the *spray paint fumes* in her office; yeah, Claudia, what were they thinking?), I went home, got a shower, shoveled down “dinner,” then headed off to birthing class. I think the students in the class are starting to take over a little. Last night, people just started asking questions about the things they really wanted to know, rather than just letting the teacher keep going. We didn’t get a chance to see one of the videos, but I’d much rather have a decent discussion in class than see yet another birthing video. I’m pretty excited about Wednesday’s class; We’re going to have a tour of the OB ward, so we’ll finally get to see where things are and what they’re like.

Beestling address change

Heya,

The Beestling has changed his/her/its blog address. Click the link in the sidebar to get to the new place.

Sore, tired and awake

Yeah, that’s me. I’m at my parents house who have been gracious enough to let two sore martial heathens crash for the night. Yesterday, Greg and I drove down to the Twin Cities and went to day one of a taijutsu seminar led by Kevin… sorry Kevin; I’m blanking on your name for the time being.

Anyway, the seminar was good, I think. It’s really overwhelming to me. All sorts of levels of people practicing, all sorts of Japanese words flying around. I’m pretty sure I’m newer to this art than anyone else in the room. But everyone is friendly and helping me out by giving me tips or advice or letting me beat on them. Or by beating on me. It’s all good.

Last night, we all went out for Ethiopian food at “The Blue Nile.” It was good food, really great spiritual and semi-metaphysical conversation (I think maybe Greg was a little taken aback), and nice gang tags in the bathroom to boot. We came home with the intention of playing cards and hanging out, but we all just kind of crashed and decided it was time for bed. So we hit the sack. Or the futon. Or the couch. Or the floor, as the case may be.

This morning, we go back to day two of the seminar and have to be on the mat by 8 a.m. *groan* That’s a little on the early side, if I do say so myself, but what the heck; I may be home while it’s still light outside.

Apparently, Dad’s giving the sermon at the church he and Mom go to this morning. He really wanted me to come because he’s addresing some of the questions I raised in a previous post in my blog. But I’ll be getting the crap kicked out of me by other heathens dressed in black pajamas. Sorry, Dad. I’d love to hear it some other time, though.

I guess it’s time for me to go off into the world and make this day happen. Cheers, all ya’ll.

Going analog

This weekend, I’ll be in the Twin Cities at a Taijutsu seminar. And no, I won’t be wearing a necktie or a suit jacket (other than my gi, of course). So I may or may not have access to the ‘Net. And I may or may not post. And if I do post, it may or may not be a story installment.

So many variables, so little time.