Routine

Mazzy and I have a morning routine. Well, I have one, she kinda goes along with it. I usually wake up, but not get up. I’ll lay in bed fighting against the morning wondering if I can fall asleep again. Usually the morning wins and I resign to it ever so slowly. My step towards getting up is usually some phone screen time with the news (The Daily Beast Cheat Sheet for some quick catchup).

I will then get up, put on whatever clothes that are in the pile at my feet, visit the toilet, then brush my teeth. I did exactly that today. Then I walked down the hallway and opened some window shades as I headed towards coffee. Today, Mazzy stopped me for food before I got to coffee. She did it by encompassing the entire area where her food closet is and stared at me like she was about to maul. Most days she trots out from the bedroom when I am in the middle of making coffee and stares at me with a not so subtle head swing towards her food closet. I feed her, then she goes outside to bomb the yard.

I find my routine quite boring most days, but it also has a comforting quality that I like- it also allows me not to have to think too much before my mind actually wakes up. As I finally got to making my coffee today, my mind began to wander into the future on what sort of routine, or lack of routine I may be in for. As I poured hot water over the grounds I realized that coffee might not necessarily be one of the first things I do. I most likely will already have been up for two hours- or three or four. I may have to begin using pre-ground coffee as not to wake Scout if he/she is napping.

I believe we will have a routine, and I will learn it. It won’t be my routine, it will be me adapting to Scout’s routine. And it will gradually change week by week I’m sure. I can only imagine what it may may be like. I realize at first I’ll be up for diaper changes and feedings. That will evolve into face time and reading. Then real time watching because Scout will be rolling and crawling. Then I’ll be getting up to chase Scout around. Soon enough I’ll be getting Scout ready for school. So weird to think about considering my immediate situation.

I’m sitting here in a pair of ratty sweats, a soft orange sweater that I bought at Target for $3, and a cozy pair of slippers on my feet. I still have a half cup of warm coffee sitting at my left hand and the last thing I feel like doing is going outside into the cool autumn morning and doing some yard work.

I say that because as I’ve been writing this post I’ve been looking up and taking occasional glances out the window. The whole time, my neighbor has been mowing and blowing fallen leaves. He’s a dad. He has two or three kids (I’m really not sure) around the ages from five to eleven (+-6 years). It just makes me wonder, am I going to have that “dad drive” to take care of things outside before it gets warm? Will being a dad automatically trigger a switch in me that makes me hate fallen leaves and long grass so much that I don’t mind going outside early to take care of it? I can see it being something I have to do for lack of time- but his kids already went off to school for the day. He could be having some coffee and writing in his blog right now too- at least he wouldn’t be making me feel bad for doing it.

Damn, he’s really getting after it too. He went from mower, to blower, and now back to mower. Go Peter.

I glance from his yard to mine. I wouldn’t say my grass is long, but it’s not tight- I’m hoping I mowed for the last time this season. There is a light amount of leaves strewn about- it’s good for the grass I say. The hammock stand is still up even though it hasn’t been used in weeks. I see a couple Mazzy bombs out there waiting for my attention. There is a flamingo that got knocked over by the wind as well as a billion marble-sized crab apples. And then there’s Mervyn, the lawn merkin. That will be a fun one to explain to Scout.

And he still mows. I swear he’s mowed over the yard four times now.

Judging by Peter’s “dad drive” I feel pretty confident that I will not have it- at least not about my yard. I do think I will have it for other things. What? I don’t know yet- hopefully playing with my child, doing laundry, and vacuuming. Kylie would love it if my “dad drive” included picking up my piles of clothes and a lost interest in collecting weird stuff. I assume my “dad drive” is within me somewhere just waiting to be triggered. When will it be triggered, I don’t know. Will it be early when Kylie starts showing? Will it be when I first meet Scout? Will it just happen when I just have to have it happen? Or maybe it will evolve, just like my routine will, when it has to.

 

Dinner

A couple of days ago Kylie and I went for a trail run. The trail is a short out and back that meanders up and down along Rattlesnake Creek. We like it because it’s beautiful (especially in autumn) and there is water for Mazzy (our dog) to drink and soak in. Also, it’s not too taxing on the lungs and we can talk about our past week and our week ahead and usually what we want for dinner.

This was our first run together since we found out about about the little Scout. *From here on out I will refer to the growing thing taking refuge inside Kylie’s body as Scout- not for any particular reason, I just need to call it something- and since everyone (about two people) made fun of me about this name idea, I will use it. It’s going to grow on all you haters!

Let me start that paragraph over- This was our first run together since we found out about Scout. We jogged and talked about our future and before we knew it we were at our turnaround point. We had been so focused on our conversation that we were already halfway finished with a run we felt we had barely started.

We talked about our work schedules and how we could move them around and adapt. We talked about painting a room with characters on the wall. We talked about getting the carpet cleaned in that room. We talked about how spring runs we enjoy on this exact trail will next year be spring walks, and then summer walks with one of those bicycle wheeled stroller thingies (I’m real new to this jargon obviously). We talked about the fact that there would be no riding our bikes up the Going to the Sun road in Glacier National Park next year. We talked about how Scout will be six monthsish next winter and it will be a perfect age just to cozy up for the season. Following that, when Scout is one year old, it will be summer again- perfect time for Scout to start exploring the world. We talked about what we wanted to be called. We placed bets on which grandparents were going to move to Missoula. We talked about the cloth diaper service I found that washes and delivers. We talked about how Kylie was afraid to use a safety pin with a cloth diaper so close to a baby’s new soft skin. We talked about hospitals and delivery options. We talked about how to tell people. We talked about how protective Mazzy is going to be that she probably won’t let me near Scout.

We talked about a lot of stuff. And then we asked the question to ourselves, “What did we used to talk about before we didn’t have this to talk about?”  Dinner. We talked a lot about our next meal- and where we should go to get a post run beer or cider. And dinner,  we talked a lot about dinner.

 

Booger

The little thing is six weeks and six days old according to the app I installed on my phone. How did everyone do this before? I kinda like knowing all these little things- like the fetus (yuck, that’s the last time I use that word) is the size of a grain of rice- or a lentil. That keeps the visuals all nice and neat I guess- you know, cute, but really it probably looks more like a booger- a wet, red booger.

We have only told close family about this wet booger. Kylie’s parents, her brother and sister in law know. We told my parents yesterday (my mom let out a squeal like no other- she has been waiting on this for years and years). Three kids of her own, all in their thirties with no children between them. I haven’t told my siblings yet. It works out well that we will be seeing them in two weeks- so we will wait and tell them in person.

I will say it has been hard for me not to mention my new life with this booger at work. If you are new to my life, I am a craft bartender- I see and talk to lots of people everyday. I have a pretty close relationship with my co-workers. I’ve found myself quite quiet around them lately- not really knowing what to talk about- not that I talk a lot anyway. But once the drinks start flowing and I get distracted with orders and ticket times, I forget, and I am unconsumed by my excitement for some moments.

We won’t tell too many people for a while. I know the first trimester is a slippery one. And it’s nice in a small way to have a little secret.

Kylie is queasy today. She hasn’t had the morning sickness yet really- just a few days of headaches that I attribute to caffeine withdrawal (she loves strong strong coffee). She is tired a little more too. But she is being strong and fantastic and everything I want the future mother of my child to be.

But I told her I wouldn’t talk too much about her symptoms here. And I don’t think I’m going to make her feel any better when she find out I called our baby a wet, red booger.

 

*Editors note: This piece was supposed to have published yesterday- but for some reason it did not- I was in a hurry or something and overlooked the actual publication. So today it is actually seven weeks. The little thing popped into a new weight category- it graduated from a booger to a blueberry. That’s a lot bigger booger!

Pregnant

We looked at it together- at the same time. “I think you’re pregnant,” I said. “I think. I mean look at those lines- that one goes that way- but that one is faint- is that a plus? Is that line supposed to be that color? I don’t know what the hell is going on here- let’s read the directions again.”

We were excited, a bit dumbfounded, and the slightest bit unsure that our test was broken- so off I went to the store to get another pee stick. I went for one thing, just a pee stick. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t browse the aisles looking at chips. I stopped in the “Mexican” section to see if they had my favorite salsa- still no. I continued walking and turned onto the aisle I have managed to mostly avoid my entire life. Shuffling down the aisle I passed diapers and nipples, bottles and creams, Kotex and condoms. Well, I didn’t really pass the condoms- they live right next to the pregnancy tests. I stood there for an hour and contemplated the varying attributes of pee sticks. To others it looked like I was having a real hard time picking out a favorite condom that was unique and tailored just for me.

I picked the more expensive digital one- no lines or dots on this one- I didn’t want to try to read analog hieroglyphics this time.

As I walked through the store making my way to the check-out I began trying to figure out how to make the cashier feel uncomfortable- just for fun. It was a young kid with pimples- a high-schooler still learning the ropes of adolescence. I watched him ring up my chips. When he got to the pregnancy test I intentionally made a false laugh and nervously said, “Oh, that? That’s not for me, it’s for a friend”. He didn’t even flinch- not a smirk, not an eye crinkle. Wasted humor.

When I got home and walked in the door Kylie asked me what sort of awkward joke I made with the cashier. “What?!” I said, “I would never use our probable pregnancy to make cheap jokes with a stranger. You don’t even know me”.

“Oh yeah? What kind of chips did you get”?

So I ate some chips, Kylie drank some water, I ate some more chips, and Kylie peed on a fancy new stick…

EPT Mazzy

First…

It seems awkward to me to begin this blog about my (future) kid and not mention what led up to this- well, besides- you know. I am married to this amazing woman holding on to me in this picture. This was our wedding day, about 2 1/2 months ago. Before you do the math let me do it for you- the fetus (eww, gross word) is 6 weeks, 4 days old (according to my handy dandy app). So, no, she was not pregnant in this photo- not that there’s anything wrong with that.

In short, as you can tell by our bare feet and my cuffed pants, it wasn’t the typical wedding. There were six attendees (us included) and it was twelve miles into a twenty-six mile hike in the wilderness of Montana- Oh- and the bride didn’t know about it.

The bride, let’s call her “Kylie” from here on out, didn’t know a thing. I proposed to her about a mile before this photo was taken. She said yes. I said yay!

Then I said, “We can get married out here if you want to- right now! I have rings for both of us, your brother got ordained, and your sister in law has a dress for you in her backpack!” This caught her a little off guard to say the least, but after a few moments, she happily agreed. So, in front of her parents, brother, sister in law, and our dogs, on that rock, in that lake, in the middle of The Beartooth Wilderness, we got married. And the green grass grows all around and around, and the green grass grows all around.