My Personal Superman

As usual with our house, one project turns into another. Repainting the baby’s room (the old guest room) led to emptying out that room, rearranging the computer room, to tearing out all the carpet upstairs. We’ve also scraped popcorn off the ceiling in the Jack & Jill bathroom and replaced old light switch/electrical outlets. Those projects bled into our downstairs which now holds newly painted baseboards and other miscellaneous furniture. Luckily Andrew is like Superman and has done all the work single handedly. The "we" I mention is 95% Andrew; my two hands are not much help these days though I’d love to be helping most of the time!

I woke up one night around 2 a.m. to hear the distinct sound of a roller putting paint on the wall. In any other household, the wife probably would have crawled out of the bed and asked her husband what the heck he was doing, but in our house, I sat up, smiled, and went back to sleep. It’s not unusual for Andrew to be most productive between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 a.m.

So far, we’ve purchased baby’s bedding (Jungle Tales by NoJo), picked out the paint color (Herb Cornucopia by Valspar), ordered the crib (Serenity by Baby’s Dream), and we’ve begun to register at Target and Babies R Us. We also have decided on a floor/laminate color (Antique Tundra from Ikea). There’s still plenty of time before my due date, but I’m anxious to get as much done – as soon as possible... all thanks to my personal Superman.

Can he kick it? Yes he can!

Monday night, July 13th... I felt my baby boy kick!

A week prior Ashley and I were sitting on the couch watching TV as she gets a big smile on her face and puts her hand on her belly. "I think he's hiccuping" she said. I couldn't believe it and was immediately jealous that I couldn't partake in the experience except to feel the love and awe from Ashley's face as she concentrated on her belly. She hadn't felt a lot of movement (that I know of) yet and this was very special.

I expressed my jealousy and asked how long I would have to wait until I could feel the baby move or kick. She had read that most women with the first baby might go until 25wks before they feel kicking themselves and it can be a couple weeks after that for the Dad to feel anything.

Not liking this news that I might have to wait another month and a half or even two months to feel my boy kick I only had one option. I leaned in towards Ashley's belly and had my first Father-Son talk. In a jokingly-serious Dad voice I called him by name (the name we think we're going to use) and said something along the lines of...
"Listen here _______, I know you're only at 20wks, and I've heard that some babies don't kick until around 25, but you're special and I expect more out of you. I want to be able to feel you kick by week 22... No... by the weekend of week 21. That's one and a half weeks from now so you should have plenty of time to get those legs strong in there. Ok little man?"

Well obviously I was joking... I joke around... its what I do. It was fun thinking of it as a 'Father-Son' talk. And to think ahead to how many we'll have and all that I can share and teach him and even more that he'll teach me.

Fast forward to the first day of Ashley's wk21 (Monday). Sitting on the couch Ashley gets that smile and puts her hand on her stomach. She grabs my hand and says he's kicking and you might be able to feel it but don't be upset if you can't. Trying not to get my hopes up I let her lead my hand to lay flat on her stomach and didn't feel anything at first. No surprises. Didn't expect to feel anything anyway... WAIT! Whats that?! "Ashley I think I felt him kick! I did! He just kicked again!"

This was awesome on so many levels. I really think I was totally speechless for a bit or was just keeping quiet (as if being quiet would help me feel kicking). In all I felt around 5 solid kicks all moving slightly within a small area. Almost immediately I told Ashley I decided he wasn't kicking and they were 'fist bumps' instead. She said "If they are fist bumps then our kid is Rocky". Ashley is funny sometimes too ;)

This One's for Baby A

Thanks to my fabulous stint of unemployment for the summer, I was able to scoot up the mountain to spend the day with my dad. His brother had just left, and among one of their favorite discoveries was a stocked trout pond. I somewhat jokingly asked my dad if he wanted another fishing partner for the day. He took me up on the offer, so I drove up to Blowing Rock and we headed into Foscoe to see if we could catch some trout.

The beautiful thing about this stocked pond was that you didn’t need any equipment or a license. You pulled up, picked out a pole, and a fish man gave you a net, a hook-thing (to get the hook out of the fish’s mouth), and a can of corn bait and a container of live worms. As we walked to the pond with the large fish, I started to second guess myself. You could clearly see huge trout swimming around just under the clear surface. “Do these fish really want to be caught, Dad?” He reassured me that the fish want to be caught! Moments later after he baited my hook and cast me out for the initial time, I had a bite. I got really excited and scared, but one of my first thoughts was, “This one’s for Baby A.” I reeled the sucker in and held the pole with a death grip as the fish flopped on the ground and my dad corralled it with the net. Still uneasy, I watched as he unhooked the hook with the dehooking tool (with minimal blood shed). The hook came out cleanly, and I continued to convince myself this was the right thing to do by saying, “At least the fish got an early lunch.”

We continued to fish for about an hour. I kept getting nibbles and the fish kept tying seaweed to my hook, but I had no more beginners’ luck. My dad snagged a few fish and let me try to reel them in; he said that was the fun part of fishing and he wanted me to have the thrill. I lost one, but got the other one in with a bit of a fight. He was huge… as far as trout in a fish pond are concerned. My pole bent, I struggled a little and finally we got him in. This one was definitely bigger than the first, a tad squirmy-er, and a bit bloodier. While he was still wiggling, I bravely held him tight in a towel to pose for a picture. This one, too, is for Baby A.


Aside from the bonding with my dad, truly a great time, I enjoyed watching the little kids, mostly boys, with their parents and grandparents. It was not at all difficult to fast forward my mind to 2-3 years from now and see my son with his dad and my dad excitedly by the water’s edge reeling in their first catch.

Fueled by a desire to be a good mom to a little boy, in one day, I touched a worm, reeled in two fish, and even ate a small portion of our nearly six pound catches. Its all for you, Sweet Baby A.