Tag Archives: Beautiful

A Baby Is Born . . . via Text Message

The first text came in around 9 pm.

The grandpa-to-be needed to update the family on what was going on.

K is in hospital waiting fur the baby to come. She has been there since one this morning. They are about to give her an epidural and then try to speed things along. Will try to keep you all up to date if I can keep my eyes open. 

This was grandpa-to-be’s first blood grandchild and to say he was elated would be an understatement akin to saying Mount St. Helen’s got a little burpy back in the 1980’s.

I’m sure that this is nothing new to the older relatives of children being born these days, but the sense of immediacy and connectedness that this engendered was amazing to me.

Way back in the old days when I first blessed this world with the spawn of my loins, things were a bit different. And I don’t say that just because of all the dinosaurs roaming around.

My dad was the only grandparent who lived out of the state and so we had to call him in advance and let him know we’d be inducing our first born on a certain day. That way, he could plan ahead and be there when his first grandchild came into the world. Everyone else we delayed because we didn’t want our entire family in the delivery room.

We had to plan. Then, once the proto-Sarcasmo was born, the only people who knew what he looked like were those who came to look at him directly in the face and be blinded by his astonishingly good looks.

Non-immediate-family had to wait until we had taken the first of approximately 7 gillion pictures of the boy, had said pictures developed at a local photograph store, picked up said pictures and then mailed them out to interested parties. It was weeks before everyone we cared about knew that we were parents, much less had seen the little dude.

This time, though, it was like we were in the delivery room with the AlmostMom is smiling because the epidural has kicked in real nice and she's feeling no pain in the delivery room as she works to birth her first baby.beautiful mother, older sister, smiling dad, amazing aunts and gobsmacked grandparents.

We received pictures via text message and then e-mails with more pictures and even a video or two. It was a connected birth the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.

Say what you want about the intrusiveness of modern communication, how cellphones and computers and the internet are forcing us apart from each other and into hiding behind screens of glass, but there are definite upsides to this.

Not only did I know that Scarlet Jane (also christened Baby Jake by her grandpa) was born, I was able to look into her adorable little baby eyes and see her mother smiling back at me, the same adorable face I’ve known since she wasn’t even a teenager.

Thanks, Grandpa and Grandma, Auntie L and all the rest for your great updates. Thanks for showing us how it’s done here in the 21st century. And welcome, Scarlet Jane.

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Consequences Of Going Sleepless Even If You’re Not In Seattle*

Sleep. Ah, blessed, wonderful, energizing sleep. How I love you so.

And, yet, sleep is something I tend to try and avoid as much as possible. I’ll stay up as late as possible before heading to bed. Once there, I will sleep as little as I can possibly get away with before forcing myself awake and starting another sleep-deprived day.

Back in my day, when I worked at my first newspaper, my normal shift didn’t start until 10 am. Which meant I could stay up until 1 am, sleep eight hours and still be in on time to start work.

That was, and I use this word with complete certainty that it is the right word for the job, beautiful.

Of course, things changed and, for the most part, I started changing with them. I still remember the horror with which I faced the night before the first day of Sarcasmo’s high school. He had to catch a bus at 6:30 am, which meant we had to be up before 6 and getting ready to head out.

I hit the hay before 11 pm for the first time in a long, long time. And I never really did acclimate to the whole early-to-bed-early-to-rise thing. Benjamin Franklin was a great dude for the most part, but he had some serious issues when it came to sleep.

So, I tend to be on the lookout for information about sleep. I like to make sure that, when I sleep too little, I am at least sleeping deeply and getting the most restorative efforts for my time. So when I ran across this great infographic from my apparently new go-to magazine for post kickstarters, Popular Science, I knew I had to talk about it.

Should you stay up late bingewatching House of Cards, or finishing off that really big book? Probably not. And here's why.


I can’t be the only dude who sees things like chronic depression on there and starts getting nervous about his sleep habits, yeah?

Which means that, dudes, if you’re reading this at night, it might be time to sign off the old IntarTubules, brush your teeth, change into the comfy jammies and hit the sack. See if you can get a good night’s sleep for a change.

You never know. You might actually enjoy it.

Footnotes & Errata

* Wow, did that reference date me or what? Erm, I saw it on Netflix? Not in theaters? Yeah, that sounds good.

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She Who Must Be Discussed

Today is different.

Normally, near the middle of November, the nights would be getting darker earlier and there would be all-around less light to guide our way.

Today, though, there’s a bit of a hiccough in that whole less-light thing.

Mostly because of all the candles residing on the birthday cake belonging to my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Steaming Mad Right About Now.

I really shouldn’t make old-age jokes about her. I really shouldn’t.

I think I can still outrun her, though. In a sprint. If it goes longer than a sprint, I’m a goner, as she’s definitely got the stamina to last longer in that sort of race. Still, when you’re running for your life, you never know what sort of reserves you (and by you I mean I) might find.

It’s tempting to note that she is, as of today, a year older than I am. After all, I don’t turn her age for another seven days, 168 hours, 10,080 hours, 604,800 seconds.

That’s a big number, 604,800.

Must be a loooonnnggg time. It’s okay, though, because I like older women.

But there’s more to She Who Must Be Itching To Get Her Hands Wrapped Around My Throat The Sooner The Better (For Her) than her  age.

In addition to being one of the premier obstetrician/gynecologists in the southeast, she’s also an amazing mother and wife. And I’m almost positive that she’s single-handedly been responsible for the upsurge in Nordstrom stock over the last couple of years.

Dressing well hasn’t always been a priority for her, but I well remember the first time I ever saw her decked out in an expensive, one-of-a-kind outfit.

I was standing at the end of an aisle, next to a very scary dude wearing an odd collar. An organ began playing and, with each note, managed to drag my heart rate higher. My best man, The Principal, stood next to me and had to remind me to breathe. I’d forgotten.

When she first walked out into view, I realized something else: I’d actually forgotten how beautiful she was. I hadn’t seen her in maybe 12 hours, but the last glimpse of her in no way prepared me for the vision that approached down the aisle. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d found her and she’d found me.*

This next bit isn’t really a tangent so stick with me. My Dad told me that he used to call his mom on his birthday to thank her for having him. I’m going to steal that idea. I think it’s about time to call my mother in-law and let her know how grateful I am that she had the foresight and vision to bear into this world someone wonderful who thought I was the same.

She’s not perfect, my wonderful She Who Must Sometimes Be Tolerated, But More Often Be Celebrated, but that’s part of the fun. Finding her jagged places and fitting into them with mine, sanding down the bits that don’t fit and glueing those that match.

So tonight I’m going to give thanks for her as I light a candle, and another candle, and another candle, and another candle. . . Well, you get the point.

Happy birthday, Sweetie. Let’s go have some fun.


*Although right  now, I get the feeling it would be a better idea if she weren’t able to find me. Maybe once she cools off a bit. After the heat from the candles dissipates.
Welp. That’s just going to make it longer.

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