Our Latest Look...

This one we took in February 07. Both Mrs. eSquared and the Radiologist gushed cute sayings and then said she looks like me. I think she looks like W.C. Fields.

Either way... I don't think it's a complement... for either of us.

Our First Peek...

We had our first look at Baby Pink in November 2006 at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland.

Eavesdropping…

Anytime more then six months ago…

Mrs. eSquared: [coming through the door with lots of bags from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Me: [although initially panicked, I realize Mrs. E2 only borrows clothes from the shops. She’ll return them all within three weeks, and check-out another bunch] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Mrs. E2: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Me: [turning back to the Xbox game I currently SUCK at] “Ah, that’s cool. DIE YOU S.O.B.”

About 15 minutes pass…

Mrs. E2 [modeling her latest black turtle-neck, or black slacks] “Well… what do you think?

Me: [pausing the hopelessness that is the game I’m playing] “Oh… nice.”

Mrs. E2: [her face falling into a frown] “You hate it.”

Me: [in my high and defensive Mrs. E2 has learned not to trust] “No… they’re fine… really.”

We spend the next ten minutes convincing her that she shouldn’t take the slacks back… which she takes back anyway in a couple of weeks.

Now… let’s turn the tables a bit.

Anytime more then six months ago…

Me: [coming through the door with a bag from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Mrs. eSquared: [panicked] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Me: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Mrs. eSquared: [turning back to the book she is currently studying] “Hummm.”


Me: [taking a moment to inhale the sweet smell of new electronic equipment as I open the box - tittering with excitement] “Well… what do you think?

Mrs. eSquared: [applying the memorized equations and algorithms she learned to calculate an item’s cost by the size and color of the box ] “Oh… nice.”

Me: [my face falling into a frown] “You hate it.”

Mrs. eSquared: [transparent in her apathy] “No… they’re fine… really.”

She spends the next ten minutes convincing me that I should take the thing back.


… and the tables come full circle.

Anytime in the last six months…

Mrs. eSquared: [coming through the door with lots of bags from the mall] “Hi babe…”

Me: [although initially panicked, I realize Mrs. E2 only borrows clothes from the shops. She’ll return them all within three weeks, and check-out another bunch] “Hey pal. Whatchagotthere?

Mrs. E2: “Oh… a little of this, and a little of that.”

Me: [turning back to the Xbox game I currently SUCK at] “Ah, that’s cool. DIE YOU S.O.B.”

About 15 minutes pass…

Mrs. E2 [parading the baby clothes she just got] “Well… what do you think?

Me: [pausing the hopelessness that is the game I’m playing, and growing dizzy looking at all the little suits, oneziez, shorts, pants, shirts and hats (yes, hats) arranged on the table] “Oh… that one has a cute carrot on it… nice.”

Mrs. E2: [her face falling into a frown] “You hate them.”

Me: [in my high and defensive Mrs. E2 has learned not to trust] “No… they’re fine… really.”

We spend the next ten minutes convincing her that we will never need to wash baby clothes. We’ll simply use them once, and throw them out. We’ve run out of room to store them… now, we’ve filled garbage sacks (clean ones) with all the clothes our egglet has.

Names & Labels… Labels & Names…

Baby Pink arrived the other day. No, not in that way… she is still snug inside Mrs. eSquared. What I mean is, anyone who looks can see her. Even some distance away, it’s evident that she has arrived, kicking, nudging, elbowing and bumping.

Mrs. E2 was determined to hide Baby Pink at her place of employment until the New Year. Fortunately, she has the last couple of weeks of 2006 off. Once Mrs. E2 was done working for the year, *WHAP* she got big.

She went back to work this week with an obvious change from the last time her colleagues saw her. Why do people (women especially) get all excited when they see a pregnant woman? Is pregnancy a special initiation into a club that men and women that haven’t experienced childbirth just aren’t invited to?

You know you’ve seen it… some lady losing it when she sees a pregnant woman: someone in the line at the bank, coffee place or supermarket; a complete stranger.

First, the questions:

Secret Club Member: (screeching as she hunkers down and runs over with her hand out to touch the belly) “Oooohhhaaaaahhhheeeeeehh… Look what you’ve been up to!”

Unwitting Pregnant Woman: “Wha!”

SCM: (sporting wide eyes and a crazed smile) “When aaaaaaaare yoooooou duuuuue?”

UPW: (a bit dazed, and taken aback with a strange woman touching her belly) “April,” she squeaks.

SCM: (rubbing UPW’s belly in circles and lowering her voice for the illusion of confidence) “Do you know what it is yet?”

UPW: (resisting the urge to say “human,” or “none or your business.”) “We’re having a girl,” as she narrows her eyes.

SCM: (feeling the excitement of another potential club member) “Ahhh… what’s her name?

UPW: (concealing the urge to break her hand off at the wrist) “Well… we like Jada.”

SCM: (her smile cascades into a frown and she knits here eyebrows together) “Humpfgh. That’s an interesting name.”

(Long, silent pause)

SCM: (puffing out a breath) “I once knew a crack-whore named Jada. What other names have you thought of?”

There are many amazing things about such interchanges, primarily, the complete lack of interest in the woman herself. If the ‘conversation’ is allowed to continue, the Secret Club Member glazes over and regales the Unwitting Pregnant Woman with tales of how wonderful pregnancy is, or how awful her 46 hours of labor were.

WTF?!?

Conversations with Biology…

As you might imagine, Mrs. eSquared has been doing a fair amount of fretting about our upcoming bundle of joy. Though all of her worries are my worries… there have been a few that have been slightly more difficult to take on than others. When we first learned we were pregnant, Mrs. E2 started obsessing about childcare more than a year and a half before we needed it.

I realized this anxiety is probably biologically driven. Certainly, it’s in the best interest of the species for expectant mothers to be anxious about their young. Until now I’ve been unaware of the degree that new mothers are compelled to explore in their hormone-crazed delusion.

Mrs. E2: “I saw pregnant woman at work today.”
E2: “Yeah… “
Mrs. E2: “She’s about half-along as we are.”
E2: “Mmmm…”
Mrs. E2: “She’s twice as big…”
E2: [thinking to myself] oh no…
Mrs. E2: “Maybe we’re having a pigmy baby.”
E2: “What?!?”

There are more… I just can’t remember them right now.

5:30 on a Stormy Sunday Morning

This is my favorite time of the day. Everyone is asleep, and the house is quiet. I’ve cleaned the kitchen and I’m waiting for the first drops of caffeine to issue from Mr. Coffee. Last nights pizza has dehydrated me, so I’m on my third glass of water. I’m sitting at the kitchen table surveying all the baby crap the family has purchased in the last 72 hours; my vision blurs… As I sit entranced in a thousand-yard stare, the teddy bear speaks using Denis Leary’s voice…

Teddy Bear: “Hey.”
eSquared: “Huh, who said that?”
TB: “Me silly, the bear… I’m not coming any closer.”
E2: “Aaahhh… A TALKING BEAR!”
TB: “Calm down, this is your imagination. You know, you’ll have to reach to touch me sooner or later… I’m not coming any closer.”
E2: “What are you talking about? I don’t want you any closer… I need coffee.”
TB: “I’m soft, and cute…. I also play a little tune.”
E2: “So…”
TB: “Go ahead, touch me.”
E2: “Is this really happening? Why do you want me to touch you so badly?”
TB: “I’m figurative… symbolic. I don’t need you to touch me, you need to reach out and embrace me.”
E2: “Why?”
TB: “I’m your life now, that’s why. Stuffed animals, little pink clothes, teletubbies, puke on your shoulder…
E2: “STOP.” “You’re freakin me out.”
TB: “Too bad. Get used to it…this is your life. You don’t have to hug me now, but you will eventually.”
E2: [heavy sigh] “Yeah, I know. How about when we get home? I’ll spend a little time with you. I think it’ll be a little weird here at grandma’s house.
TB: Whatever.