what did i learn? it's a job for one person and a heavy weight of some sort to hold down the row of boards being layed. if the weight in question is also carrying your child, it's a bonus because the baby can hear daddy's tone of voice when he's unhappy and can get ahead of the other kids on the playground with the four letter words. i also learned that my entire body hates spending hours at a stretch crawling around on all fours on a concrete slab.
everything was complete, furniture in place and all, by about 10 pm saturday. i have to say, i'm impressed with the speed aspect of it. we got it done in less time than expected and even under budget. and that carpet i pulled out? i haven't seen anything that disgusting in a long time.
the best part of it for me was getting to rearrange my books by subject. everything is now where it should be instead of being arranged by color and dimension of spine. i love that woman, really i do.
i will give props to my beloved for being so patient with me. we work really well together and she was able to take over the mitre saw and knock out those boards like nobody's business. it made for quick work. i am not altogether displeased with the results. stacky's dad seemed on the verge of being impressed but we'll see what happens when my dad comes over for a visit. ah the true joys of the father/son relationship.
speaking of, i started reading the "sears" book on birthing. ok. i know. i said i'd stop. i promised i'd stop. but stacky said this book had some good stuff in it! i got through three chapters last night and i have decided that this is not the book for people...well...people like me.
i find a few things interesting about reading all of these books on pregnancy and birth. when my mom was working on her masters degree, she took a class that discussed how most of the canon in literature was written by white dudes of european descent. since this is the case, women learn to read as men (this is the thesis of the class). i thought that was pretty interesting. in fact, i'm usually the first to admit that aside from my height, the world was tailor made for me. i'm a white dude and things "just work" for me 99% of the time. i'm pretty happy with that. i realize that it isn't that way for everyone, but i'm rarely in a position to experience that. and that brings me back to these pregnancy books.
reading these books is wild because they either assume that i don't exist or that my existence is purely coincidental. i am unnecessary and therefore do not need to be discussed any more than the table dressings on the titanic. it's wild. and when i take that stance, it makes the experience otherworldly. it's like i'm reading the literature of an alien culture.
and then i remember that this is my baby too and i get all pissed off. the sears book is no exception to this experience.
i have decided that when this is over i will rate the guides to pregnancy and labor from my perspective (because that's the only perspective i have). i thought that maybe a five star scale would be good (0 stars being lame and 5 stars rocking my face off). instead, i have decided that as the father in this scenario, i will rate them on the "broken condom" scale. 0 broken condoms being the rating for a book that assumes that the father of the child is a willing and excited participant in the pregnancy/birth experience and 5 broken condoms being "you didn't really want him around for this anyway."
as this as my scale, the sears book (after three gut churning and repetitive chapters) gets 4 broken condoms. it reads like an ad for "non-medical labor assistants" and it's repetitive. it is constantly reusing words like "empowerment" and "non-medical labor assistant." and it repeats itself. again and again. constantly empowering women to choose non-medical labor assistants. very repetitive. and it repeats itself. iteration after iteration.
anyway, the first mention of the father is on the last page of chapter three when they basically give him the almighty out. they say (paraphrased as the book is now banished to the shelf beneath my nightstand) "the male donor unit may not be comfortable in the role of doing anything other than providing genetic material. that's ok. he was just going to get in the way. let him sit there and watch you sweat. it's what he's good at. trust us, you'll be glad you did. and he won't know the difference because having a penis makes you unable to appreciate the birth process. did we mention that the medical establishment wants to give you drugs and your donor unit will enable them? well, he will. he can't be trusted. you should probably kill and devour him now."
at least that's what i remember. on a serious note, it's clear that these people hated the way that the first 3 of their 8 children entered the world. it's also clear that as the parents of 8 children they have a lot of experience, certainly more than i do. i would be wise to read what they have to say and take what works, leaving what doesn't. but when you write like third grader (no offense to any third graders out there) and take the stance that although there are many choices to list it's obvious that your way is the best and you refer to your reader as a "birth consumer" you've lost me and there's no getting me back.
i will whip through the rest of it tonight if i can stomach it. then i'll read about the bradley method. although the naked 70s women in that one scares me a little. it's like the porn of my youth...it doesn't age well.
and speaking of porn, i'm gonna need some. and not the fretboard journal (best guitar porno mag EVER!). it seems that being pregnant means being "too sick to have sex" or something. at least in our case. whatever. i've gone longer. shudder
my dad is still moving to town. he'll be here monday to look for a place to live. my mom is pretty pissed (they've been divorced for 1.5 billion years). time for some of us to grow up, methinks.
work is...best left undiscussed.
when i can lift my arms again, there will be more tunes. and what's up with 606 not posting the new mfc? wtf?! i need deadlines and goals, people!
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