December 18, 2009 rich and beautiful 7 Comments

Cracker

claireMouth
I get a message from Claire asking me to pick up a small flashlight on my way home. I write back asking what kind of small flashlight. She responds that she got a “cracker stuck in her gums.” I assume she’s drunk and seek clarification with, “What are you talking about?” She explains that a cracker got stuck in her gums and she can’t see well enough to take it out. Having never had a cracker get stuck anywhere for very long, I stop asking questions and follow orders.

On my way home, I stop at a little store and ask if they have tiny flashlights. The guy asks me what it’s for. Hmm…I can’t think of anything so I tell the truth, “to help my wife get a cracker out of her gums.” The guy looks at me weird and tells me he doesn’t think he has anything.

As it turns out, it wasn’t a cracker, but a tiny piece of the insoluble part of popcorn. It had embedded itself into her gums somehow. Claire threatens to just go to the dentist. Motivated by unneccessary dental bills, the sinking economy, and rising healthcare costs, I jab at it until it breaks free.

I think this is the weirdest post yet.

December 14, 2009 miscellaneous debris 2 Comments

Spamalot

So, I was scanning some of the comments on the blog that were correctly marked as spam. I especially liked the ones that tried to be so vague that they apply to any blog — any blog except ours…

Good work, I wish my site had as much information as yours does.

…information? Really???

Useful information, thanks for taking the time to write it.

…sorry, no useful information on this blog.

Thanks for posting this, reading your blog I’m amazed how much time you have put into it.

You reading this, Heather?

I think this much merrily.

This was a tough one to detect.

I think this merrily.

An obvious attempt to correct the previous comment.

I much liked Your description.

I much like your comment.

But as, all exactly so.

True enough.

December 11, 2009 drunken midgets, King Con 2 Comments

Santa

We stop at a light and Conrad says, “I see Santa’s car.” Claire and I look at each other, completely puzzled….then we look at the car next to us. It’s a silver sedan — doesn’t make any sense. Then we look at the driver in the car next to us — an older gentleman with a big white beard. Claire thought it would be rude to take a picture of him. Sorry.

December 7, 2009 drunken midgets, rich and beautiful Post a Comment

3 in NYC

con-bigbro

All this reminiscing and comparing our New York baby experience with our Oregon baby experience reminded me of a common occurrence when Claire was pregnant with Con Man…

When Claire was finally starting to show, we would get mixed reactions from people on the street in New York. On the rare occasion that Claire and I were out by ourselves on a date night, we would have strangers get visibly excited and tell us how wonderful it is to have a child. Now, if the two of us were accompanied by Julia and Weston, strangers would give looks of pity because we obviously didn’t know where babies came from, anger because we were contributing to the overpopulation of Manhattan island, or plain disbelief. Luckily, Julia and Weston are real charmers, so it didn’t take long for people to grow to love our kids and understand why we keep having them.

November 29, 2009 drunken midgets, Hardy Har Har-per, rich and beautiful 8 Comments

Window of Opportunity

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Having Conrad, Claire and I learned that there is a certain window of opportunity in which the anesthesiologist can give you an epidural. In the middle of the night, we realized it was time to go to the hospital. By the time we got there, Claire was breathing a little more heavily than usual and, by the time she was in the bed, Claire mentioned that she felt like she should push. We waited and I tried my best to comfort her, but we were both hoping everyone would hurry up with our epidural. When the anesthesiologist finally came in our room, I wanted to make sure he was well informed and mentioned Claire’s urge to push. The doctor stopped suddenly and said, “You shouldn’t have told me that.” I asked why and he explained that if she’s that close, they can’t give her an epidural. This is when Claire took charge and said, “I didn’t say that! I don’t feel like pushing!” Awkward. I looked at the doctor and tried to give him a look that conveyed what I was thinking, “Who are you going to believe? Why would I lie?” In case the look didn’t register, I discreetly nodded and mouthed, “Yes she did.” Probably fearing her wrath more than mine, the doctor ultimately decided to give Claire the epidural and we all went back to normal — talking, making jokes and enjoying the rest of the delivery.

Claire was more keenly aware of the window of opportunity when Harper decided to come. I had been reading all kinds of hippie propaganda about the benefits of natural child birth and was half tempted to try it — or have Claire try it, anyway. When we first got to the hospital, the nurses didn’t seem to be in any hurry. They told Claire they would get her some water to drink and asked if she would like anything else (maybe some blankets or a pillow or something). Claire must have sensed the window was closing because she replied with a polite, yet urgent, “I would love an epidural, please.” The nurse looked slightly confused but said something like, “OK, I’ll let them know.”

As it turned out, Harper was in much too much of a hurry for any epidural and Claire, after a quick psychological adjustment, made us all proud and proved that she was just as tough as any mom out there. When all was said and done, Claire never fully converted. When I asked if she could do it all over again, would she go natural, Claire thought for…well, she didn’t have to think about it at all actually. She said, “No,” or “Absolutely not,” or “Are you kidding?”…I’m not sure exactly which words she used, but the message was clear: if we could do it all again, we would have gotten to the hospital before the window of opportunity slammed shut.

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