Three

Three years ago, we started with this...

Today, we have this...

...a three year old, who is obviously king of the mountain.

Happy birthday son, and thank you for letting me join you on this journey through life.

What, me worry?

The lovely wife and I had a visit today with cardiologist who used the ultrasound machine to do an eco to see if he could see anything that would indicate why a fetal heart arrhythmia showed up at a couple of previous doctor appointments.

The cardiologist is actually one from Riley that has seen El Presidente recently. That's kinda weird.

(An aside: Riley and all of their doctors generally rock and we are lucky to have such a fine institution so close to home)

Anyway, here is the short version: things are fine.

Here is the longer and more techinical version, which I wrote because the whole thing is fascinating: The cardiologist spent close to half an hour checking out the heart. Early on in the exam, he noticed one abnormal beat, but spent a long time waiting for another to happen, but it never did. And that's good. That means that this seems to be a fluke. He said in cases of arrhythmia like this, usually only 2-3% end up continuing after birth and into childhood, causing the need for medical treatment. So the odds are very much in our favor.

He checked the heart out fully and everything is where it is suppose to be and connected to what it needs to be connected to.

In the heart, there are two shunts. One is the ductus arteriosus, which is what Jake had. The other is the foramen ovale, which is a flap that allows blood to flow from the left atrium of the heart to the right atrium. Much like the ductus arteriosus, the foramen ovale is suppose to close up at birth.

In Numero Dos, the flap appeared to be a bit larger and "flappier" than normal, which in and of itself isn't a problem. It is something that they'll keep in mind in case the baby shows signs of heart or respiratory issues either before, during, or after birth. What's interesting is that it is entirely possible that, depending on the baby and the lovely wife's body position, this larger than normal flap may occasionally bounce or tap up against the heart wall, causing the heart to have an extra beat and creating the arrhythmia. So the arrhythmia may show up again in future exams. But assuming it closes up as it would normally, it would no longer be an issue and the arrhythmia goes away.

Personally, I'm no longer as stressed about this as before. Normally, ignorance is bliss. For me, this smackdown of knowledge has me more at peace than I have been in the past couple of weeks. Because things are developing really well. Numero Dos is thriving. The odds of future heart problems are very small. And we are marching forward towards the end of July.

Progressing

We had our first visit to the fetal specialist. The Ultra ultrasound showed us that Numero Dos has hair and big cheeks. And is weighing in around 6 and a half pounds with 5 weeks to go. That over a pound more than El Presidente's birth weight.

And the heart arrhythmia didn't show up at all. Go figure.

Wednesday we see the cardiologist who will take a closer look at the baby's heart and hopefully give us a better idea of what's going on, if anything.

It's not over until the pregnant lady screams

This pregnancy had been very much unlike the pregnancy with El Presidente. Things had been going smoothly. Tests and exams were coming back positive. There had been no signs of trouble.

I was starting to feel comfortable with things. Remaining positive, I kept telling myself, "This won't be like last time. Three or four days after Numero Dos is born, we'll go home, like normal people." I was even making plans to buy a box of cigars in advance of the birth.

Not so fast, Jason. You can't do your victory lap yet.

During a recent non-stress test, while listening to Number Two's heartbeat, they picked up a heart arrhythmia. Before last week, this had not been caught before. The OB said it probably isn't an issue, but more tests should be done to be sure. So next week we see a specialist for an ultrasound and fetal heart echo cardiogram.

There are many places online that tell me I shouldn't worry. They say similar things, like:

Most of the time, it stops on its own in a few weeks. Occasionally, it persists and needs to be evaluated by the pediatricians after birth. We don't know all the causes, but one of the more popular theories is a viral infection that causes an irregular beat for a few weeks. After that, the baby gets better.

Which is well and good. Except given our history and El Presidente's own health issues, it certainly gives us pause to ponder the "what ifs".

Which I hate. Because my sick and twisted mind automatically conjures up worst-case scenarios. As if it would prepare me for the worst-case scenario. Usually, it just gives me anxieties.

Ugh.

Today, the lovely wife had another non-stress test (NST). Numero Dos wasn't being cooperative, so they did an ultrasound. And things looked good. We did hear the arrhythmia during the ultrasound.

So who knows. Hopefully, after we are done with the specialist, we'll receive an indication that things are progressing, that there are no signs of cardiac issues, and that the delivery and life there after should be normal.

Until then, excuse me if I'm a little anxious.

In the meantime, why not enjoy some cute baby pictures...


And for those who don't know how to read an ultrasound...

Change does not come easy

El Presidente's new bedroom is finished, complete with a race car bed, a recliner, two rugs, a drum set, posters, sports pennants, and a coo-coo clock. If I may be so humble, not a bad job!

He is excited about his new room. He likes to take guests upstairs and show it off. The problem is that he hasn't felt like sleeping in there. When we have tried to put him to bed in the new room, he'll ask for the yellow room (which is the nursery).

In time, I'm betting he'll want to sleep in his new room. But right now, El Presidente prefers the security and comfort that comes from the crib and nursery.

He's not the only one having a difficult time with change.

Myself, I have fallen off the wagon, so to speak. Last October, I started going to the YMCA before work. And I did well for at least six months, going most days.

But I'm not wired for early wakeups. I prefer to stay up late. And the two don't mesh. The lack of sleep has caught up with me and getting up early for the workout has been tough.

When weather and schedule permits, I've been riding my bike between home and work. My favorite thing about that is the multi-tasking: commute and exercise, all at once. But I don't do it everyday and really need to go to the Y on non-bike days.

My initial plan was to go immediately after work. Take my workout gear and go straight there, no stopping at home. The only trouble is when I have other stuff going on. Which is quite frequently. So I haven't been able to fully execute my plan.

I'm hoping that, since I don't have much going on this week (except for work), that I might be able to get into a pattern of working out. We'll see.

The other thought I've had is to move my work schedule back an hour on workout days. Instead of getting to work at 8am, get to work at 9 and stay an hour later. That way, I can still work out in the morning without having to get up any earlier.

And I'll have the added benefit of being energized before work. Something that I haven't had recently.

Whatever direction I take, I'm sure it won't be an easy change in habit, but it is certainly worthwhile.

It's official: we're having a brat...again!

It is obvious that Numero Dos is related to El Presidente. As we enter the final stretch of the pregnancy, the lovely wife is doing NST's (non stress test) twice a week. Sunday night at midnight, the child moves like it is doing a Mexican hat dance. Monday morning, it's lazy. It doesn't move. It doesn't elevate it's heart rate. It is a stubborn pain-in-the-rump.

This leads to the lovely wife having to have another ultrasound to verify that things are fine. And they were. The kid could have let us know 4 hours earlier, but no, it wanted its picture taken. So it is lazy and vain.

Like its older brother.

The kids are driving me crazy.

In a Muncie minute

It is April and I am at Ball State. It is a few weeks before graduation. And I am walking to an evening class that I am taking.

I had just finished talking with a friend I knew in high school. I was pretty pissed to find out that I had missed the bachelor party of one of my best friends. He claims that he didn't have my email address or he would have let me know. But I knew he had my email address; we had emailed not a month ago.

While lost in my thoughts, I realize that I'm late for class and I have to go all the way across campus. I decide to turn around and get my car to go class.

I decided to take a short cut to the parking lot, only to discover that a pornography store had been built on my short cut. I tried to climb over it, but with no success. The store's owner must have thought I was trying to break in, because he had me come inside "for a talk".

But he became distracted as this squirrelly guy, who I am guessing is a regular customer, walks in and the store owner tells him, "Your order came in." He opens a box and pulls out a 3 foot long double-headed dildo. To each their own.

I'm waiting to talk to the owner, but the customer decides to buy a golf umbrella too. I then thought, "how many pornography stores sell golf umbrellas?" only to realize that he's probably not going to use it to keep off the rain.

Still late for class, I decided not to wait on the store owner any longer. I wasn't trying to break in to his store, but didn't feel the need to explain it to him. As I'm leaving the door, he yells at me. I yell back, "I'm late for class!" thinking that will pacify him.

The squirelly guy left right after me, carrying his 3 foot long double-headed dildo and golf umbrella. His partner is also walking with him, who I realize is TV and movie actor Josh Gad¹. And Josh Gad is carrying with him a six foot piece of lead pipe².

Seriously, what more can these guys throw into their bums?

While walking down the street, a guy on a motorcycle pulls up. He's all in leather, kinda looking like a Hell's Angel. He grabs a concrete block from a retaining wall and throws it at the squirrely guy's head.

I'm not sure why, but I felt the need to help the squirrely guy in his fight. Probably because he was unconscious. So I picked up a concrete block and threw it at the biker guy's head. Direct hit.

I was feeling pretty cocky about the battle. Which is probably why I didn't notice that another biker guy had pulled up, grabbed a concrete block, and threw it at my head. He then puts me in a full nelson. Josh Gad is running around, screaming like a little bitch, asking "What do I do? What do I do?"

I yell back, "Well, everybody else is having success using the concrete blocks as weapons, why not give it a try?" Thankfully, he did. Thankfully, it helped me break lose.

Well, long story short (too late): the cops arrived. And to paraphrase a song that was once used in a great episode of Friends: someone was going to emergency, someone was going to jail³.

Despite all the excitement, I was still determined to get to class, though I was very late. As I continued on my journey, I suddenly realized: I was signed up for a philosophy class this semester and I never attended once.

Suddenly, I'm having an anxiety attack. Graduation is in a couple of weeks and I missed an entire class. How could I let this happen?!? How could I screw up so badly?!? I'll surely flunk the course, and I won't graduate, and I'll never be an architect...

It's around this time that my anxiety attack has grown so bad that I finally woke up. Though it probably took a good five minutes of laying in bed next to the lovely wife before I realized that it was all a dream. A weird dream. And that none of what I just mentioned ever happened.

I just find it amazing that almost ten years after I completed my college work, I can still be awoken from terrible dreams involving school screw ups.

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¹For the record, I have no knowledge of Josh Gad's sexual preferences. He may not like to take 3 foot long double-headed dildos, golf umbrellas, and lead pipes in the ass. Not that there is anything wrong with that⁴. As far as I know, he takes cheerleaders home a baker's dozen at a time and rocks their world. Or for religious purposes, he's chaise. I don't know. I have no idea. It was all a dream. So to anyone who Googled "Josh Gad & Sex" and found this site, I apologize for waisting your time. And if you are Josh Gad's attorney, I REALLY apologize.

²While lead poisoning isn't as serious an issue for adults as it is for kids, I am concerned about anybody who uses a lead pipe for sexually pleasuring their bottom side. If you must, take precaution. Wrap that sucker. An ounce of condom is worth a pound of protection from lead poisoning.

³If you hadn't figured it out by now, I'm dreaming. Because there was never a great episode of Friends. The Friends episode I'm referring to at this moment is episode 1.17 "The one with two parts, part two" where Marcel the monkey swallowed a Scrabble piece, choked, and was rushed to a hospital. In a dramatic moment, he wakes up in a hospital bed to see all of the Friends standing over him, while "New York Minute" is being played. Seriously, why was this shit on for so long???

⁴Now Seinfeld, THAT was a funny show! I especially love the story where Seinfeld was being forced to participate in a New York sitcom crossover event, so in protest, they wrote an episode where at the end Ross dies. The network execs let them out of that event.

Donuts redux and espresso Cubano

So a while back, I mentioned about searching for the best donuts in town. Well, I received a few suggestions of additional donut joints. Though they were all out of town.

I had a meeting in Lafayette today, so I hit a donut shop at the suggestion of Andrew Scott: Mary Lou's. And their glazed donut and Boston cream are both excellent. The Boston cream is better than Dunkin' Donuts. The glazed donut is up there with Long's and Tim's of McCordsville. I still prefer Long's, but these 50 cent donuts can hold their own against the Indianapolis landmark bakery.

Thanks for the suggestion Andrew.

Recently, Sumo (the donut showdown instigator) had lunch at TaTa's Cuban Cafe. He finished with an espresso, which comes in an itty-bitty coffee mug with a Cuban flag on the side. He was amazed at how good it tasted. And how sweet it was.

He did some research, and Espresso Cubanos are espresso shot brewed with sugar. It's the sweet tea of coffee. Sorta. It sounded great to me, so I went with him.

The espresso isn't made individually. They make a big batch in the morning to pour out all day. So I question if it really is an espresso. I'm betting it is really just a strong, strong coffee. Either way, it is still tasty.

On my way back from Lafayette, I stopped by B-Java at 56th and Lafayette Road (owner BJ is an Irvingtonian, so I was kinda buying locally). I told her about the Espresso Cubano. She said she wouldn't brew it with sugar as it would destroy her espresso machine filters. But she made me an espresso and mixed in some sugar after the fact.

Her espresso: bigger flavor; bigger mouthfeel. Maybe too much sugar. But really good.

Tata's espresso: not as big coffee wise. Sugar was either not as strong or blended in better.

Personally, I want to get the B-Java version again with a bit less sugar and see how it goes. Either version would be great with a cigar. This may require more testing.

Damn dog

Lucy is our original problem child. From the day we first got her back in 2001, she's been an escape artist. Despite the loving home provided, it has been her constant mission to break through the fence and explore the neighborhood.

She hates being contained. She, literally, tore the door off of her cage because we were having a party and she wasn't invited.

She has a book glue addiction. The number of library books we've had to pay for. Some pricey ones. And some of El Presidente's favorites have been Lucy's Metamucil.

Thunder, fireworks, and other loud pops send her up the walls. Literally. She has destroyed so much wood work, plaster work, and curtains. It is insane.

Her curiosity has trapped her in some odd ways when we are not around. She once was sniffing a bra that the lovely wife had hanging from a door knob. She accidentally put her head through an arm loop and confined herself until we returned. It's amazing she didn't suffocate herself.

One Christmas, she found some elves in a box of decorations. Apparently, they were taunting her because she ripped them to pieces. She's fortunate to be alive, because they were one of the lovely wife's favorite from childhood.

She's been this way all along. We had hoped that she would mellow out with age. Unfortunately, the opposite has occurred. She's skunking out.

The past couple of years, she's been suffering from constant anxiety. We've tried a couple of different medications to help treat her, but they actually make her more anxious.

Tonight, we returned home from shopping and she didn't great us at the door as she normally would. The lovely wife found that Lucy had trapped herself in El Presidente's future bedroom. The bedroom door was closed when we left, but being a 100 year old house, none of our doors latch. She nudged her way in, for reasons I can't explain, and the door closed behind her. She then proceeded to scratch at the door, leaving us with a heavily damaged door and trim and a large pile of wood chips on the floor. I guess I'll have to refinish and paint the door.

Again.

Because I had to do it from the last time she scratched up the door.

I'm not sure what we are going to do with her. She's our dog and I don't take it lightly. But if she is allowed to keep going along this path... well, I'm not sure what will happen.

I'm considering crating her, despite the lack of success in the past. We're thinking about getting situational downers for her from the vet, if we can convince him of it. Outside of that, I really don't know what to do.

I refuse to be less than humane with Lucy, but the destruction and mayhem have to be stopped. Or at the very least, contained.

Any thoughts or suggestions would be welcome.

Thirty-two too

Today is my birthday. I am now thirty-two years of age.

Today is the lovely wife's birthday. She is now thirty-two years of age too.

It is a cool thing sharing your birthday with your spouse. We were born within half an hour of each other. She is actually older.

Our birthdays are the reason we met in the first place. I've told the short version before:

A friend of mine takes me to Indy for a weekend to celebrate my 21st birthday. We somehow found a hotel with an available room during a convention weekend. We went to a bar, danced with a girl, left. We bar hopped. It was late, we were tired, but we went back to the first bar. Saw the girl again. Danced for a long time. Finally said something to her. Something like "hi". Or maybe she said it first. That's more likely. Found out we were both celebrating our birthdays, we were both born on the same day, we were both staying at the same hotel and agreed to meet in the lobby later to exchange phone numbers,

And the rest is history.

Ironically enough, today also is the week thirty-two of our pregnancy with Numero Dos. Our due date is August 3rd, eight weeks from today. Though my money is on Numero Dos making his/her debut sometime between July 11th through July 26th. That is when the lovely wife's OB/GYN is on vacation.

Yeah, fantastic. Happy birthday!

Motivation

I should really pay attention to the weather forecasts.

Tuesday morning, I rode my bike in. It was a beautiful morning. Perfect riding weather.

Tuesday afternoon, I felt the need to leave a little early. I don't know why. I get out and onto my bike and start peddling down New York St. I hear a rumble behind me. I turn back to look. And all I see are very, very dark clouds.

I started to wish that I looked at the radar before leaving work.

Normally, my rides home take longer that my rides to work. Home is uphill. It is warmer in the afternoon. I'm usually tired from work.

Tuesday afternoon, my ride home was five minutes faster than my ride to work. The motivation of not getting drenched in a thunderstorm provided that extra motivation to peddle faster.

Alas, my efforts were not rewarded with a completely dry ride. The heavens let loose with a powerful rain when I was a mere three blocks from home. Oh well.

El Presidente's thoughts on our mini-vacation so far

With the lovely wife expecting numero dos in late July or early August, we really don't have the time or ability to take a real vacation. When we received a graduation announcement from TLW's cousin in Columbus, Ohio, we thought "what the hell; let's go."

Which is why right now we are sitting in a hotel room in the 'burbs. We selected a hotel with an indoor pool so that we could do plenty of vacation swimming.

Our room has a king size bed; El Presidente is still small enough to fit comfortably between his parents. Though I must admit, he is a big bed hog.

The king size bed impressed him; he immediately laid down in the middle of the bed. Then he noticed the TV directly in front of him: "Whoa! Big TV!"

He then propped himself up on all four pillows and pulled the bedsheets up around him. He's going to demand a king sized bed and TV in his new bedroom (scheduled to be completed next week).