Heeeeeeere's Johnny

First, an announcement: We suddenly find ourselves unexpectedly expecting a fifth child. That’s right, FIFTH. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

We both like to make it clear to people that this baby is unexpected. It helps to remove the “crazy factor.” Stupid perhaps, but crazy no.

Anyway, after we stopped looking at each other and saying “Doh!” we managed to move on to the next natural topic. Baby names.

Since Jill was a little girl she has had lists of baby names. At any given time she can rattle off her top five boy names and top five girl names. Eric cannot say the same. This disappoints Jill, because she genuinely wants him to be an equal participant in the naming process. Here is an example of how our conversations go:

Jill: So what girl names do you like?
Eric: What are my choices?
Jill: The entire universe of names, real or made up.
Eric: That sounds hard.
Jill: Just string your favorite letters together and tell me what you come up with.
Eric: No, I’d prefer if you just give me three names and I’ll help you narrow it down.

It also bothers Eric that Jill obsesses about the name thing. Eric gets bored of Jill always talking about it. For example:

Jill: Miller is a cool name for a boy.
Eric: Uhhhh, yeah . . .. but switching topics, what do you think of the whole Don Imus thing?
Jill: The name Don sucks. Donovan maybe, but ixnay on the Donald.
Eric: [Eye Roll]

Recently, however, we seem to have hit on a formula. It started when Jill suggested the name “John” for a boy.

Jill: John’s a good name. Solid. Universal.
Eric: Boring.
Jill: But what if we gave him the middle name “Cash.” Then, you know, he would be Johnny Cash.
Eric: Coooooooool!

And that, my friends, is how “Johnny Cash” became our honest-to-God, leading contender for a boy name.

The problem, however, with this new-found naming formula is that Jill is starting to get nervous that Eric will use the formula to suggest other names based on male icons. For example, what if Eric wants to name our daughter "Babe Ruth?" Or if he adds names to the boy list like "Jackie Robinson" and "Bruce Lee?"

Because honestly, Jill is just NOT gonna be too keen on breastfeeding someone named Rocky Balboa.

So what do you think? What should we name baby # 5?

The Edge (of the Bed)

Jen’s Side (of the bed-story):

I suppose because I grew up an only child I enjoyed the luxuries of that status (ie my own room, my own stuff, etc) and never had to worry about having to share anything with anybody. I wouldn’t necessarily call that being spoiled, just, I don’t know, not too concerned. In the case of having my own room, and therefore my own bed, I naturally took up space as I so pleased. Sprawled out, all over the place, hoggin’ the middle. Always.

And then along came Hubby and the whole share-and-share alike thing. Living as the (better) half of somebody sure came with its price tag; and that meant giving up my precious ‘middle’ of the bed so that we could both enjoy each other’s company. Sure, I was a little hesitant at first, and yes, I still have fantasies of one day purchasing a California King-sized mattress set just so I can go back to enjoying a somewhat ‘middle’ ground. But for the most part? I have no qualms, really. We’ve split the bed fifty-fifty and I see no reason why he’s always bitchin’ and asking me, “Do you realize how much real estate you’ve got on the other side of you?!”

Puh-lease! I’ve given up a half of the bed already! What more does he want??

John’s Side (of the bed-story)

Geez, Jen! Are you seriously using that card again – that “I’m an only child” card? That’s your signature ‘go-to’ move! Enough already! For the record let me set things straight just so those who are kind enough to be reading this know: I am also an only child. And I have had no problem whatsoever with sharing my bed with you. None. Zilch. Zero. Nada!

Here’s the thing, folks. We have a queen-sized bed, and as big as it is it’s just not big enough for the both of us because of our individual sleeping habits. Jen and I are both what you would call all-over-the-place sleepers, though she more than I. So, investing in a king is the only sensible thing to do. But that’s for later. It’s not really that high on our priority list right now.

While I accept that I can wake up at any moment in the night and expect to find her legs dangling all over me (because she tends to end up horizontal), or to have, maybe, a corner of one of the three blankets she insists on layering us under, I can completely overlook those types of things. I love her and accept all of her weird, fucked-up sleeping positions. She’s my wife – for better, for worse, right?

The problem lies in the fact that she insists on dragging her body pillow into the bed with her. You’ve seen this thing, right? It’s about as long as an average person and is roughly two-feet across. It’s like one of those maternity pillows the gals use as both a belly supporter that wraps around their back and up between the legs for comfort. It was cool when she was preggos both times, but now she absolutely cannot fall asleep without hugging on that thing or having it up against her back for one reason or another. She says it helps to keep the draft from coming up under the covers, but I’m just not buying it. I think the ‘only child’ in her resents having to share the space she’s enjoyed all her life so she’s devised this need for having, basically what’s like a third person, in bed with us so she can have just that much more space to claim. Now, if that damned pillow were in fact another person (say, another woman, for example) she’d never hear a peep outta me. But that’s another post, eh?

Anyway, this pillow, it takes up about two feet of her side of the bed meaning she’s pushed into (essenatially) the middle of the bed, leaving me with the scraps of the last third of the mattress (and that’s only if I lie on my side and keep really, really still to keep from falling off).

Back to Jen:

Okay, so let’s just give my pillow a sexy name and get over it!!

John:

Ooooh, really!!?! Now you’re talkin’, Honey!

So this is what it's like

Mike Said:
So I have a new respect for stay at home mom's and dad's. I was laid off from my job three weeks ago and have been taking care of my daughter. Granted, we were away last week visiting relatives, but I already realize how difficult it is. You are "on" 24-7. Allie is a sweet little girl, but lately she's been very attached to me and rarely gives me a break, even after Jenn gets home from work. It's tiring, but enjoyable at the same time.

When I was growing up, my mom always had the house clean and dinner on the table at 6pm for when my step-dad came home. My house isn't exactly filthy, but it could use to be straightened up! I have dinner ready for Jenn most of the time, but I have to force myself to do it. Not because I don't want to do it, but because I really just want to sit on the sofa and do nothing at the end of the day. Allie hangs on my leg when I'm trying to make something to eat because she want me to pay attention to her and not the stove. She wants to play all the time. She has so much energy. It was nice out here in NJ the first week, so I took her to the park one day, but now it's cold again. The only break I get is when Allie takes a nap at about 12:30pm, but then I'm talking to recruiters, or looking on the Internet for a job, so that's not really a break.

Don't get me wrong, I love the time Allie and I spend running up and down the hall chasing each other with baby carriages, or shopping carts, but my back hurts from bending over and I just need to turn off sometimes. Since Jenn is pregnant with our second child, we're going to try to have her stay home with them for a few years. I give her and all other SAHM & D's a standing ovation for being able to do it.

Jenn said:
To be perfectly honest, and this might be mean, but I'm happy he's having a hard time keeping the house clean and getting dinner ready. Whenever I'm home from work I feel like my job for those days that I'm home is to take care of Allie and the house. So I feel this pressure hanging over me that I need to be able to perform. I need to keep everything clean, get something constructive done, play with Allie (maybe even teach her something), and have dinner on the table for Mike when he gets home. In my head, that's my job and what Mike is expecting from me. In my head....of course.

Well, the first day Mike was home he got up before Allie, and took a shower! He started breakfast as I was walking out the door, and that day he cleaned up, did laundry, took Allie to the park, and was calling me at work wondering when I would be home so that dinner would be ready. I thought to myself. DAMN HIM!! He's good at that TOO!?!?! Jeeze!!

By Wednesday I got home and he was on the couch in his PJ's watching Sports Center. Toys were everywhere and dinner was no where to be found. What a sigh of relief! I happily walked in, picked up Allie and started heating up leftovers. He yelled from the living room. Want me to watch her while your doing that? I replied with a smile: Nope, I'm good!

For some reason I always have complex that's I'm not doing enough. Like I should be able to do more than I am. Now I have a little validation. And validation is SWEET!

Now....let's hope he remembers this, when the tables are turned around again and HE is walking into a messy house and no dinner. =o)

Three's Company...Three's a Crowd!

We'll be traveling tomorrow so we wanted to make sure this got up before we went incommunicado. Happy Passover and Happy Easter.

Jennifer:

I’m one of three, the Dubya’s one of three....three is a good solid number.

The Big Dubya and I have two gorgeous and brilliant children (I’m not at all biased) and I would love to get moving on giving them one more ‘lil brother or sister to love, play and grow up with. The ‘lil dubya and the ‘liller dubyette are 17 months apart – yes, they are a handful on a good day – but, they fill our lives with such happiness and purpose – our little family has so much to offer a third child.

Why would I want another baby so soon you ask – after all the ‘lil dubyette is only 4½ months old. What a great question – there are actually a few reasons.

As I mentioned, our first two are only 17 months apart and I’m so grateful for that. The ‘lil man doesn’t remember a time when he didn’t have a sister – and he LOVES her. When we go to get him out of bed in the morning, the first thing he asks about is “Bay-bee” – when she dozes off in her swing, he holds his little finger up to his lips and tells us sssssss “bay-bee sleepen.” When other kids try to look at her, he goes over to supervise and tells them to be gentle. If she cries he runs to her and sits next to her to tell her “it’s okay” or to offer her a pacifier (sometimes he’ll even offer her his). He dances in front of her to make her smile and he gets so excited when she does. He sings “la-la-la” to her and she babbles back to him…… she watches his every move, and he dutifully performs for her. Sure, he stepped on her head once – but that was my fault, I left her lying on the floor.

Additionally, although I tell people I’m 28 – I’m actually th-thir-th-34 and the Big Dubya’s going to be 40 in May – if we are ever going to have a third, now is the time to do it – I don’t want to look back in 5 years and wish we’d done it – because, by then (at least for us) – it’ll be too late.

I know that financially it’ll be a bit of a stretch (although, we have all the baby stuff for either a boy or a girl, we have enough space in our house and we both have SUVs), but we’ve got two kids already – if we are going to be carrying around a diaper bag, let’s fill it up.

I know my first pregnancy wasn’t a walk in the park – and, although there were a few bumps with the second – the doctors managed my condition amazingly well and there’s no reason to expect a third to be any different. As for conditions linked to advanced paternal age, well…. we still have 4 weeks to conceive a baby before you turn 40 

Warren:

It is true, I am one of three. And Schoolhouse Rock always told me that three was a magic number. However, I am of the belief that had either my brother or I been a girl, it would have been just the two of us, building castles in the sky.

It’s really hard to argue against my wife’s many salient points for having another child. But, I can try and will. Many of her reasons for adding a third can be, just as easily, justification for only having two as well. We have two beautiful children – one of each. They are close enough in age that they will be (at least until their teen years) each other’s best friend. They are a handful, but a manageable handful. And they will be manageable even as they get older. Man-to-man defense is easy; playing a zone when you’re a man down is another matter entirely.

I admit that the way Little Dub interacts with his sister, even at his tender age of 22 months, is probably the cutest thing in the world. The way he protects her, comforts her, amuses her makes me exceptionally happy. I believe the bond forming between them now will grow with them and, regardless of their petty teenage difficulties with one another later in life, they will be quite close. So, why mess with that? Why add another child into the mix? Why mess with what is obvious perfection? Bias, schmias, these kids are perfect. So perfect, I’m still waiting on some damn magi to show up at the front door. I’m very reluctant to mess with the dynamic that is developing. I really like the way things are now.

Add to that reluctance the fact that I’m entering that “advanced age” stage of life. In just about four weeks I’ll leave my 30-somethings, cross the threshold, apply for my AARP card and turn 40. Forty! I remember my father’s 40th birthday. I was 14. My son won’t even be two and my daughter will have just passed 5 months. By the time they’re graduating high school, I’ll be actively seeking senior citizen discounts and hunting out early-bird dinners. I know you’re only as young as you feel, but some mornings there are things I just wish I didn’t feel. My back aches, my shoulders ache, my knees click – I’m a prime candidate for a daily regimen of cortisone shots. And, even though I rail against studies written about on every freakin’ news site, more and more are coming out that seek to link some affliction or another to a father’s age – and 40 happens to be that magic number for men.

My last reason has nothing to do with me, per se, but has everything to do with my wife. It’s also more on the serious side. The little guy arrived, quite unexpectedly, five weeks early when his mother developed rapid-onset toxemia and HELLP syndrome. It was traumatic for her and quite so for me as well. Between runs to the hospital and then to the NICU 25 miles away, it was exhausting to say the least. Add to that the fact my wife, my son’s mother, wasn’t able to hold her newborn for nearly six days and you can begin to imagine the stress and strain. Our second pregnancy did not go off without a hitch, but was more in keeping with the traditional time period. But, during that time I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was sure we would find ourselves, once again, rushing off to the emergency room to be whisked away to an examination room only to be told that we would be parents again in seven minutes. Sure, this is all hyperbole on my part, but these are the types of things that were going through my head for nearly 10 months. And even though the second went far easier than the first, the idea that it could have happened, was likely to happen, and is still a distinct possibility during any pregnancy, causes me to take pause. My worst fear is to come home to find two inconsolable toddlers and their mother seizing on the floor. Yes, that’s an extreme, but a rational fear all the same.

So, to sum up (wow, this really did get long-winded didn’t it?) those are my reasons for keeping it at two.