My Sympathetic Pregnancy

I have a dream! Not the cool Martin Luther King Jr. type of dream that can be helpful and inspiring, but the annoying type of dream where your alarm clock goes off and instead of waking up it becomes part of the dream playing the role of a police siren or really annoying little boy. My dream is that I'm pregnant. I'm not telling you this so that you can analyze it and see that I have parental issues that I'm trying to resolve during my REM sleep. In my dream the baby is ready to be delivered and fortunately for me, I never actually deliver it, it just happens to show up. It's also never a baby. It's usually some object that I have been wanting (Just a few months ago the role of baby was played by iPhone 4). Thankfully, it's just a dream.

For my wife however, this is an absolute reality. Well, except for the iPhone part-we're expecting a baby boy- but I won't be absolutely heartbroken if we end up with an iPad 2. This is our third full pregnancy. Hopefully, this is our last. Don't get me wrong, I love Bryce and Henry, I love Charlie (that is what we are naming baby boy #3-- His full name will be either Zachary Charles or Reagan Charles--we're still hashing that one out) and I will love any more God chooses to give to us but let's just say that I'm not asking for anymore! I'm totally over the whole baby thing.

But I digress, this blog isn't about the baby, it's about the pregnancy. My wife is a trooper when it comes to pregnancy. She doesn't often complain and even when she does it is tinged with humor. She experiences back trouble from the onset. By the end of a long day her feet and ankles have merged into a tan shape that strongly resemble Uggs (even barefoot she has stylish footwear).

With Bryce, the experience was all new and even the uncomfortable things (i.e. back pain and Uggs) were exciting and anticipated with much eagerness. With Henry it was still pretty neat although the luster had worn off. With the third, it's just, "oh yeah, there's that happening again." I honestly don't know how people like the Duggars have so many kids. You would think that the excitement must eventually diminish (how many times can you watch the same magician pull a rabbit out of his hat before you get bored and demand a better trick).

Before you have kids, people are always asking you, "So when are you gonna start trying for a baby?" The day your first is born they ask, "So when are you gonna have another?" But after a couple of the little boogers they start to ask, "So how many are you gonna have?" It's here where it begins to get a little tricky. If they are a small family, they go on and on about how they wished they had a couple more kids (this is usually the case because one of two things (or both) is true-either they have long forgotten the difficulties of having a baby or their kids have grown to the point where they are gone and no longer around to help with the housework). If it is a big family, they are quick to praise the merit of multitudes of children and try to convince you that two or three are not enough. They usually cite the verse in Psalm 127, "Happy is the man that hath his quiver full..." I am quick to point out that God just said full and didn't stipulate what quantity was considered "full". My quiver happens to be much smaller than the Duggars' quiver (thankfully).

There is one wonderful thing I love about my wife being pregnant. It's what is commonly referred to as "Pregnancy Brain". I'm not really sure if that is in fact the common name but that's what I call the selective amnesia that develops with pregnancy. You see, my wife is one of those people who remembers things a specific way. If you try to convince her differently, you will find that she is immutable. Even if you have video evidence she is unwilling to acquiesce to your point of view. But not on "pregnancy brain!" On "pregnancy brain" her mental fortitude has been compromised and what makes it better (for me that is) she knows it! I only ever have the last word in the argument when my wife is under the influence of "pregnancy brain".

When she is affected by "pregnancy brain" I can convince her of almost anything. If I tried, I could probably convince her that it's still 2002 and George Bush is still President. All I would have to do is fabricate a few points to argue and remind her that she can't even think straight enough not to leave her Blackberry on the register counter at K-Mart (which I had to go and get for her). I might even be able to convince her that the Earth revolves around the moon which in turn revolves around a giant space whale named Franklin if I felt so inclined. All I have to do is argue earnestly and remind her about one of the plethora of things she's forgotten about during pregnancy, like washing an entire load of clothes without using any laundry soap.

I am convinced that "pregnancy brain" is just early onset "delivery amnesia", which blocks the neural pathways that remember the horror and war-like atmosphere of the delivery room. It's a good thing- without it Bryce would be an only child. His was a rather painful and arduous birth and not just for Nicole--she separated my shoulder while bringing Bryce into this world. But that is a different blog for a different day.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go convince her that she said she would mow the lawn this week. After all, she is the one who keeps calling our boys "Dusty," which is our dog's name for those of you keeping score at home.

My Summer Vacation

Do you remember the inevitable, "What I did on Summer Vacation..." reports? Every year summer vacation would end and we would return to the drudgery that was elementary school (remember it with the mind of a third grader - I would of course pay no small amount of money to pass my days in Mrs. Wheeler's class concentrating on my spelling and recess with only a small thought for the fractions that I would soon face the next year). Every year our teachers would assign this same report. Was it not enough that we had been ripped from the carefree days of summer? Was it not enough that we had exchanged long days of sun and play for short, cold days of lugubrious seat work? How much greater was the injustice of having to recount the wonderful days of summer while restricted to the prison that was my school desk?

While I know summer is yet to officially begin, I could bear it no longer and took my family on a much needed vacation. It is in the same spirit with which I recalled my youthful, summer days that I now relate to you, "What I did on Summer Vacation..."!

Last year was our tenth anniversary and we celebrated in grand style with a cruise to the Mexican riviera. But we figured that would be the last vacation we would take sans the boys. When my wife was a child, her family vacations were pretty traditional. They were what I call a "traveling vacation." They have no single destination but rather are made up of several destinations where you spend a day looking at some canyon or tourist trap, spend the night and move on the next day. I think this is a terrible vacation. Being the chief driver (see "only driver"), I would of course be the one missing out on a vacation. Driving, to me, is not a leisure activity. When I get behind the wheel I want to get to my destination as quickly as possible. I don't want to make a million stops or see the world's largest ball of barbed wire, unless of course that is our destination and we plan on staying there for a minimum of three days.

When it came time to pick our destination, my wife suggested Tahoe. I thought it was a good suggestion although I dreaded the long drive. When I reminded her of the length of the drive and the fact that she would be well into her third trimester, she immediately nixed that plan and began looking closer to home. So in an attempt to determine what we should do for this summer's vacation, we trolled the pages of Facebook, soliciting advice from our many, "married with children" friends. We determined that the bulk of the suggestions weren't worth the time it took to investigate them. They came from people to whom money was no object (I didn't even know we had those kinds of friends) or to whom thrift was the operative word even at the expense of safety and peace of mind. Through the mass of responses one shown through, bright and gleaming. Our good friend, Jonathan Reginald Brooks, (not too many people are aware of his true middle name) suggested that we look into the Marina Resort in Big Bear, CA. My wife jumped on the computer and within a few short hours we had a vacation booked and the anticipation began.

When the first day of vacation finally arrived it was perfect. We had no real time table (a theme that would recur throughout this wonderful week). We got up when we felt like it and began to pack. There was no rush, no plane to catch, just a 3:00 check-in time that was not hard and fast. Once we finished packing and loaded up the boys, we headed out to Big Bear Lake. The trip up was uneventful, save a few stops to head off car sickness (those mountain roads can wreak havoc on a two year old's stomach). We arrived at the resort and checked-in. The front desk tried to upgrade us to the cabin style rooms ( a mere $30.00 more a night) but when I found out the only difference other than the price was that the cabin style rooms simply had newer furniture but were identical in every other way, I quickly passed and signed off on the plain old standard room.

Our room was nice, if not spacious. Two queen beds and a cracker box for a bathroom. It was all done in a rustic, woodsy motif and would have made the folks from Deliverance feel right at home. There was a flat screen TV mounted to the wall which looked a little out of place, but with no easily accessible wi-fi, we gladly put up with it despite its shattering the ambiance. We had a sliding glass door (right next to the main entry door) that led to a small porch/patio with a table and chairs. This was quite lovely as it afforded us a beautiful spot to have lunch and view the lake which was literally just steps away.

Our first dining experience left something to be desired. We decided to sample the wares of a small Mexican food joint. As we entered we were both encouraged and disheartened. Encouraged at the sight of an entirely Hispanic work crew (this of course meant we were gonna have good Mexican food). Disheartened at the sight of the sign over the salsa bar sternly warning against wasting the salsa at the threat of having to pay for an otherwise free condiment (this of course meant a wait staff that was more concerned with their overhead than providing quality service). As anticipated, the food was pretty good, at least the Mexican food was. Our boys are somewhat finicky when it comes to eating and one ordered chicken nuggets (they were the Dino nuggets, which we serve them at home, dropped into a large vat of oil and crisped to a hard and dry, golden brown with just a hint of chimichanga).

I ordered the nachos (a dish that is very difficult to mess up ) and my wife ordered a two taco plate. When they brought us our food, they brought my wife a kid's quesadilla. When she told them that she had not ordered that, they gave a look of frustration and disbelief and took the plate away. Eventually, they brought her what she had ordered but without so much as an apology for its delay. We asked for some ranch dressing for the carrot sticks that had come with our kids' meals. What was brought to us resembled bleu cheese in both taste and texture. When we asked for ranch a second time (a request that obviously irritated the waiter) we were told that it was in fact ranch but that they made their own and thus the consistency was not up to Hidden Valley's standards. They then brought us a ranch and a bleu cheese so that we could see the difference for ourselves (it is important to note that a good waiter will just correct the issue without placing blame or assigning guilt and certainly would never deflect the error back to the guest). What we determined through visual and taste tests was that they used a ranch flavor package in a bleu cheese dressing. It was not overly appetizing and our finicky eaters would have none of it. When they brought us our ticket at the end of the meal we noticed that the children's drinks were twice what they were advertised in the menu. When we asked them about this they said that they had "changed that policy" and that the ticket had the proper price and gave the impression that we were to pay the full amount because we should have known what items on their menu were accurately priced and what items had undergone a "policy change". Eventually, they knocked the price off the tab and we payed and hurried out of there, never to return.

One of the highlights of our trip was the world famous Moonridge Zoo and Animal Park. To say that this is a low budget organization would be to say that the Donald Trump has a little money. The reptile and amphibian exhibit was a 10x10 room filled with terrariums. That being said it was not too shabby. They had some pretty neat animals (my favorite was the Bald Eagle) and the small size of the zoo lent itself to a more up close and personal viewing of the animals ( I was literally five feet from the aforementioned and majestic Bald Eagle). They had a few bears and some cool wolves. I would however, suggest not going on a Wednesday as that is a fast day which means they don't feed the animals, which also means the animals are less active. It was a quaint little zoo and best of all we traversed it in its entirety in less than 90 minutes.

Overall it was a quite enjoyable vacation. Mostly because we did nothing unless we wanted to. There was no schedule. We got up at our leisure, went out at our leisure and nodded off to sleep early every night. This is my ideal vacation. We did something whilst simultaneously doing nothing!

And that was my summer vacation!