Good Idea Honey!
There have been some interesting things going on around here lately, and not the freaky-mo-deaky kind. I'm not sure if Pookie is getting bored from having to spend so much time taking it easy, but I think she's been playing some sort of wifey head games with me.
Day One:
Pookie: "We need to flip the mattress over, your side is forming an ass-groove."
PJ: "I like my ass-groove, that's where I put my ass when I sleep."
Pookie: "The mattress will last longer if we flip it over."
PJ: "Ok....I respect your decision, and am happy to help in any way I can."
Pookie: "Just flip the mattress."
When your wife is pregnant with triplets and wants you to move shit, you move it. This is a truth I have learned well.
A week later I stroll into our room, and Pookie has set up camp on my side, totally negating the previously mentioned mattress maintenance. Puzzled, I tentatively try to figure out the new program.
PJ: "Uh, are you switching sides?"
Pookie: "I think I'll sleep better over here."
PJ: "I have no idea what it is going on."
Pookie: "I like being closer to the window, so I thought I would switch."
PJ: "What about the ass-groove?"
Pookie: "Meh, not a big deal."
At this point I noticed that the window was closed. Totally baffled, I left the room and headed downstairs to have a scotch and ponder exactly what was going on. Basically what happened was we flipped the mattress to reduce wear and tear (even though it wasn't really a big concern), then switched sides, (putting us right back where we were) causing Pookie to sleep farther from the bathroom, but that was ok because she was now closer to the window, which was closed.
For a while I thought maybe I was living in an episode of Life Goes On, and I was Corky, but I have now realized I was just dealing with a completely different form of logic. I call it Pregnancy Logic, expect to see it on Dr. Phil. This new level of thinking has popped up a few times lately, but hey, all part of the fun. As long as she feels great and the babies are growing I'll move whatever she wants, and be happy to do it.
The countdown continues.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
26 Weeks - Bad Weather, Good Times
Great, Now Face the Camera and Prepare to Smile Like an Idiot...
Calgary has officially entered the deep freeze, and the city has slowed to crawl. If you need to accomplish something in person, and wherever you need to be is more than 50 yards away, you should have left 15 minutes ago, because now you're going to be late.
Calgarians, like most Canadians, pride themselves in being capable winter drivers. We (myself included), feel a real sense of superiority when we hear about huge traffic snarls in Vancouver or other typically non-frozen locations that get hit with freak snowstorms and have major traffic issues. Then it snows two inches overnight and every major route in Calgary seizes up like Rocky's guts when he broke into the pantry and ate a box of pancake mix. (By the way, the pancake mix story is hilarious and I promise I will add it to the blog later. We're talking an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix, and Rocky the Retriever, bunged up solid.)
A million of us rats all scurrying to work in the snow means there are going to be delays. Turn up the tunes, have a coffee, stop changing lanes every forty feet, and we'll all get there fine. Just don't tell me you are some kind of Eskimo Ivan Stewart badass behind the wheel when it was your Camry that spun out on the on-ramp and gummed up the works. That said, Vancouver drivers can't drive in snow for shit. Hi-yo!
On to Pookie. We had yet another appointment with our doctor yesterday and everything is still coming along pretty smoothly. Pookie has a few minor issues going on that are common in pregnancies, but overall things are great. The babies are growing fast, and are still above average for triplets their age. They are actually getting big so fast I think they are coming a little quicker than we thought, my personal guess is 32 weeks.
As long as they are healthy and it doesn't mean they will be in the NICU any longer, I wouldn't mind one bit if they came before the new year. Pookie would probably like to be able to tie her own shoes again, and Papa Jeff will take any tax deductions he can get. I kid, but seriously, there are some sweet tax breaks to having kids, and I get to multiply them by three. Fatherhood, one sweet deal.
This Saturday is Big Belly Picture Day. At Chinook Mall. In late November. I would rather tear my left index fingernail out in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike that spend a Saturday in Chinook Mall in late November. I don't say this lightly people, I really did tear my left index fingernail off in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike, and it feels like a gentle spring breeze compared to Chinook Mall in Christmas season.
I am actually looking forward to the photos themselves quite a bit, Pookie and I have not done the best job of documenting this little odyssey of ours. This is most likely the only pregnancy we (she) is going to experience, so we really have to soak this one in. I just have never really understood why the man is in the pictures. Everybody already knows there was a dude involved don't they? I mean shit, look at her.
The guy hasn't physically changed either, except maybe getting a little balder and fatter from the stress, but no real differences that require a photographer to capture the moment. And they always dress the guy up in an ill-fitting black T-shirt, and he basically just stands off to the side so they can take pictures of the person that is actually pregnant. Five years later, people see the pictures and say (at least I think they say) "Wow, look how beautiful you were when you were pregnant! And hey, the guy is in the picture too, how completely unnecessary!"
Maybe its just me, but I always that it should be more about her. That said, I haven't proven myself to be an accurate gauge of what's normal in these matters, so I think I'll just do as I'm told on this one.
The triple stroller just arrived, and is sitting in the living room as I type. Our fridge came in a smaller box.
Stay warm sports fans.
Calgary has officially entered the deep freeze, and the city has slowed to crawl. If you need to accomplish something in person, and wherever you need to be is more than 50 yards away, you should have left 15 minutes ago, because now you're going to be late.
Calgarians, like most Canadians, pride themselves in being capable winter drivers. We (myself included), feel a real sense of superiority when we hear about huge traffic snarls in Vancouver or other typically non-frozen locations that get hit with freak snowstorms and have major traffic issues. Then it snows two inches overnight and every major route in Calgary seizes up like Rocky's guts when he broke into the pantry and ate a box of pancake mix. (By the way, the pancake mix story is hilarious and I promise I will add it to the blog later. We're talking an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix, and Rocky the Retriever, bunged up solid.)
A million of us rats all scurrying to work in the snow means there are going to be delays. Turn up the tunes, have a coffee, stop changing lanes every forty feet, and we'll all get there fine. Just don't tell me you are some kind of Eskimo Ivan Stewart badass behind the wheel when it was your Camry that spun out on the on-ramp and gummed up the works. That said, Vancouver drivers can't drive in snow for shit. Hi-yo!
On to Pookie. We had yet another appointment with our doctor yesterday and everything is still coming along pretty smoothly. Pookie has a few minor issues going on that are common in pregnancies, but overall things are great. The babies are growing fast, and are still above average for triplets their age. They are actually getting big so fast I think they are coming a little quicker than we thought, my personal guess is 32 weeks.
As long as they are healthy and it doesn't mean they will be in the NICU any longer, I wouldn't mind one bit if they came before the new year. Pookie would probably like to be able to tie her own shoes again, and Papa Jeff will take any tax deductions he can get. I kid, but seriously, there are some sweet tax breaks to having kids, and I get to multiply them by three. Fatherhood, one sweet deal.
This Saturday is Big Belly Picture Day. At Chinook Mall. In late November. I would rather tear my left index fingernail out in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike that spend a Saturday in Chinook Mall in late November. I don't say this lightly people, I really did tear my left index fingernail off in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike, and it feels like a gentle spring breeze compared to Chinook Mall in Christmas season.
I am actually looking forward to the photos themselves quite a bit, Pookie and I have not done the best job of documenting this little odyssey of ours. This is most likely the only pregnancy we (she) is going to experience, so we really have to soak this one in. I just have never really understood why the man is in the pictures. Everybody already knows there was a dude involved don't they? I mean shit, look at her.
The guy hasn't physically changed either, except maybe getting a little balder and fatter from the stress, but no real differences that require a photographer to capture the moment. And they always dress the guy up in an ill-fitting black T-shirt, and he basically just stands off to the side so they can take pictures of the person that is actually pregnant. Five years later, people see the pictures and say (at least I think they say) "Wow, look how beautiful you were when you were pregnant! And hey, the guy is in the picture too, how completely unnecessary!"
Maybe its just me, but I always that it should be more about her. That said, I haven't proven myself to be an accurate gauge of what's normal in these matters, so I think I'll just do as I'm told on this one.
The triple stroller just arrived, and is sitting in the living room as I type. Our fridge came in a smaller box.
Stay warm sports fans.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Pookie Pictures - Awkward on Land, Swift and Sleek in the Water
I'm a Model, Ya Know What I Mean....
We are now just shy of 25 weeks, and I thought it was time to put up a couple pictures of Pookie's belly. If you want to see what a triplet pregnancy looks like, scroll on down and feast your eyes.
We start with Pookie and I at the 7 week mark. We knew there was a bun in the oven, and had planned one last trip before we became parents. We thought it would be a little while before we could travel again, but didn't know this was the first and last family trip for a very long time.... (cue the "Holiday Road" song from National Lampoon's Vacation....)
This is Pookie, chillin' like a villian in the middle of Times Square. It was hotter than the hubs of Hell, and the heat seemed to radiate off the cement as much as it came from above. Swass output was at an all-time high, but Pookie looks pretty cool and comfortable for a pregnant lady standing in a frying pan.
A street vendor wished her the best of luck with the baby about an hour after this photo. I really didn't think she was showing much, and I thought she was going to kill the guy right in the face. Apparently he was onto something though huh? We still didn't know it was triplets at this point, and in hindsight she was definitely showing.
This picture has nothing to do with Pookie's belly, but it's a pretty cool shot and I am still kind of going through the NYC pics. The Empire State Building is in the background, it is lit up in red and yellow in honour of Spain winning the World Cup a few days earlier. Pookie and I joined hands with millions of our fellow New Yorkers in not giving a shit about soccer, and really had one hell of a special moment. Apologies for you European readers, we try to care about soccer here but we just can't, there's no scoring and every time I try to watch there are a bunch of Italian wusses rolling around on the ground like they've been shot.
Back to Pookie. This is the 18 week mark, and as you can see, progress has certainly been made. Perhaps not the greatest backdrop for a photo, but corraling the Missus with a camera has not been the easiest thing to do.
Sticking with our strict "don't show my face or I'll smash you" policy, I bring you the 25 week photo. Once again, progress has been made. Pookie was measuring at the 37 week rate a couple weeks ago, and I think we are safely beyond that now. Three people are kicking and moving around in there, and they need all the room they can get.
Pookie is getting more uncomfortable as she gets bigger, and unfortunately that is the deal. Sleep is getting more difficult, and heartburn and acid reflux are constant issues, but things could be worse. A lot of women pregnant with multiples are on bed rest by this point, and being confined to bed for 10 weeks would not be fun. Brian Wilson would be tired of laying around by the three week mark (at least when he found out that Pookie's medications are nowhere near as entertaining as the ones he got to use), and moving about starts to be a real chore. We are not looking forward to that part, but on the other hand the longer they stay in there the better off the kids will be.
I'll post some more pictures soon, keep an eye out folks.
We are now just shy of 25 weeks, and I thought it was time to put up a couple pictures of Pookie's belly. If you want to see what a triplet pregnancy looks like, scroll on down and feast your eyes.
We start with Pookie and I at the 7 week mark. We knew there was a bun in the oven, and had planned one last trip before we became parents. We thought it would be a little while before we could travel again, but didn't know this was the first and last family trip for a very long time.... (cue the "Holiday Road" song from National Lampoon's Vacation....)
This is Pookie, chillin' like a villian in the middle of Times Square. It was hotter than the hubs of Hell, and the heat seemed to radiate off the cement as much as it came from above. Swass output was at an all-time high, but Pookie looks pretty cool and comfortable for a pregnant lady standing in a frying pan.
A street vendor wished her the best of luck with the baby about an hour after this photo. I really didn't think she was showing much, and I thought she was going to kill the guy right in the face. Apparently he was onto something though huh? We still didn't know it was triplets at this point, and in hindsight she was definitely showing.
This picture has nothing to do with Pookie's belly, but it's a pretty cool shot and I am still kind of going through the NYC pics. The Empire State Building is in the background, it is lit up in red and yellow in honour of Spain winning the World Cup a few days earlier. Pookie and I joined hands with millions of our fellow New Yorkers in not giving a shit about soccer, and really had one hell of a special moment. Apologies for you European readers, we try to care about soccer here but we just can't, there's no scoring and every time I try to watch there are a bunch of Italian wusses rolling around on the ground like they've been shot.
Back to Pookie. This is the 18 week mark, and as you can see, progress has certainly been made. Perhaps not the greatest backdrop for a photo, but corraling the Missus with a camera has not been the easiest thing to do.
Sticking with our strict "don't show my face or I'll smash you" policy, I bring you the 25 week photo. Once again, progress has been made. Pookie was measuring at the 37 week rate a couple weeks ago, and I think we are safely beyond that now. Three people are kicking and moving around in there, and they need all the room they can get.
Pookie is getting more uncomfortable as she gets bigger, and unfortunately that is the deal. Sleep is getting more difficult, and heartburn and acid reflux are constant issues, but things could be worse. A lot of women pregnant with multiples are on bed rest by this point, and being confined to bed for 10 weeks would not be fun. Brian Wilson would be tired of laying around by the three week mark (at least when he found out that Pookie's medications are nowhere near as entertaining as the ones he got to use), and moving about starts to be a real chore. We are not looking forward to that part, but on the other hand the longer they stay in there the better off the kids will be.
I'll post some more pictures soon, keep an eye out folks.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Life in the Womb, Triplet Style
Big Boys, Bigger Girl
Triplet town is getting more crowded by the day. All of our little Pooklings are becoming not quite so little, quickly. All three of the babies have shown great growth over the last two weeks, and are now weighing just under two pounds each. If they had a slogan, it would be "No fetus can beat us", they are huge for triplets at this stage.
Our little girl in particular is becoming a bit of a brute, she outweighs the boys by a fair bit. The poor thing is sandwiched in between the other two, and spends her day getting booted from all sides with nowhere to run. The boys better cut the shit though, she is already bigger than both of them and will be tougher than a Brocket barn cat by the time she makes an appearance in the outside world.
Pookie is still wheeling around pretty well for a lady with three people camped out front, she is still driving around, heading to the mall, and basically just taking things a bit slower than usual. The pukings seem to have abated a touch, and considering the nineteen nightly trips to the bathroom she isn't sleeping that badly either. There haven't been a lot of weird cravings, no pickles and ice cream type stuff, but lots of popsicles. Popsicles have the lifespan of Iraqi policemen at election time in this house. Between the two of us we're developing a box-a-day habit. I have gone to the store more times to buy Sobey's brand popsicles than I have to buy milk. Whaddya gonna do, they're delicious.
One thing we talk about all the time is how life is going to change for Rocky and Herb (mostly Rocky). We have an idea how life is going to change for our human family members (we think), but with Rocky we have no idea how he will react to all the noise and babies and general chaos. Herb is a cat and generally totally detached from the rest of us, and unless he needs a treat or a beer gut to lay on, I don't really think he would care if a whole preschool moved in. Rocky on the other hand is a social animal. He actually cares if I make it home alive from work, and is quite involved with the day to day goings on of the house. Having three babies in the house and drastically less attention from Pookie and I is really going to mess with him. He has been the centre of attention around here for almost five years, and I think playing fourth fiddle is going to be a change. In no time I`m sure he will kind of adopt the kids, but what a shock it`s going to be when they all come home and there`s no room on the couch.
We know it`s kind of a trivial concern to worry about a dog`s feelings when you are dealing with something as important as triplets, but once you deal with the big stuff, you find yourself worrying about trivial stuff.
Another sign that things are really happening fast is that Pookie and I are basically done leaving Calgary for the foreseeable future. The triplets could be here by Christmas, and if they aren`t it will mean Pookie is way too far along to get far from the hospital anyway. Even day trips to Banff or wherever aren`t going to happen, sitting in a car for any extended period of time (even a bitchin` ride like the Suburban) gets too uncomfortable. We are dug in like ticks, and will be until roughly 2015.
That`s it for today, thanks for reading and I will be sure to post again soon. Also, a big `Whaddup` to my Romanian readers, welcome to the blog. You may be asking yourself how cool it is that somebody in Romania is reading the blog, and let me tell you, it is damn cool.
Triplet town is getting more crowded by the day. All of our little Pooklings are becoming not quite so little, quickly. All three of the babies have shown great growth over the last two weeks, and are now weighing just under two pounds each. If they had a slogan, it would be "No fetus can beat us", they are huge for triplets at this stage.
Our little girl in particular is becoming a bit of a brute, she outweighs the boys by a fair bit. The poor thing is sandwiched in between the other two, and spends her day getting booted from all sides with nowhere to run. The boys better cut the shit though, she is already bigger than both of them and will be tougher than a Brocket barn cat by the time she makes an appearance in the outside world.
Pookie is still wheeling around pretty well for a lady with three people camped out front, she is still driving around, heading to the mall, and basically just taking things a bit slower than usual. The pukings seem to have abated a touch, and considering the nineteen nightly trips to the bathroom she isn't sleeping that badly either. There haven't been a lot of weird cravings, no pickles and ice cream type stuff, but lots of popsicles. Popsicles have the lifespan of Iraqi policemen at election time in this house. Between the two of us we're developing a box-a-day habit. I have gone to the store more times to buy Sobey's brand popsicles than I have to buy milk. Whaddya gonna do, they're delicious.
One thing we talk about all the time is how life is going to change for Rocky and Herb (mostly Rocky). We have an idea how life is going to change for our human family members (we think), but with Rocky we have no idea how he will react to all the noise and babies and general chaos. Herb is a cat and generally totally detached from the rest of us, and unless he needs a treat or a beer gut to lay on, I don't really think he would care if a whole preschool moved in. Rocky on the other hand is a social animal. He actually cares if I make it home alive from work, and is quite involved with the day to day goings on of the house. Having three babies in the house and drastically less attention from Pookie and I is really going to mess with him. He has been the centre of attention around here for almost five years, and I think playing fourth fiddle is going to be a change. In no time I`m sure he will kind of adopt the kids, but what a shock it`s going to be when they all come home and there`s no room on the couch.
We know it`s kind of a trivial concern to worry about a dog`s feelings when you are dealing with something as important as triplets, but once you deal with the big stuff, you find yourself worrying about trivial stuff.
Another sign that things are really happening fast is that Pookie and I are basically done leaving Calgary for the foreseeable future. The triplets could be here by Christmas, and if they aren`t it will mean Pookie is way too far along to get far from the hospital anyway. Even day trips to Banff or wherever aren`t going to happen, sitting in a car for any extended period of time (even a bitchin` ride like the Suburban) gets too uncomfortable. We are dug in like ticks, and will be until roughly 2015.
That`s it for today, thanks for reading and I will be sure to post again soon. Also, a big `Whaddup` to my Romanian readers, welcome to the blog. You may be asking yourself how cool it is that somebody in Romania is reading the blog, and let me tell you, it is damn cool.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Back When I was a Kid....
Remember Everyone, That's Real Acid We're Using, So I Want to See Goggles People, Goggles!!!
Safety must be big business, because "safe" is code for "expensive as shit". Every baby book tells you that when buying (insert whatever item is the topic of conversation), do not choose an inexpensive model, because you can't put on a price on safety. The good people at Graco and Fisher Price (not to mention the evil bastards at Babies `R Us, who will be pleased to know I am now bad-mouthing them in 15 countries and every continent but Antarctica), have no issue putting a price on safety.
Somehow baby merchandise has been place on the Need Scale right next to food and shelter. With no trace of humour in their face, they will tell you that it is absolutely imperative that the expensive organic mattress is what your child sleeps on. Who the hell cares if their mattress is organic? Its not like its a salad, the kid isn`t going to eat it is he? And if he does, maybe a little pesticide is a good thing when you are chowing down on something you have been peeing on for the last two years.
I`m not really all that old, but if we use the 8 year old mark as the start of childhood where you are allowed kind of wheel around by yourself, I have been out and about for 22 years. A lot of good times were had, and a lot of toys were played with that you will never find today. Outside of Mexico, you will never find kids playing with lawn darts (at least the kind you could kill a water buffalo with), standing on the back seat of a car so they could wave to drivers when your dad passes them at 140 km/h, or buying their own BBs at the hardware store so they could shoot their friends with an air gun. Wearing a helmet when skiing was lame, and even if some kid smashed himself into a tree and scrambled his shit, it would still never occur to you to wear one unless you happened to ride a motorcycle to the hill and had nowhere to put your helmet anyway.
Not that I`m saying all of this progress is bad, when I ride a bike I make sure my dorky helmet is fastened properly, both because adults don`t roll out of crashes well, and because I usually have Rocky the Retriever with me who will blow you right off the bike to get to a turd he hasn`t smelled yet. Much of this progress has been for the greater good.
My point is more that when you sanitize and sterilize and pad the crap out of every activity, some of them aren`t as fun anymore. Laser tag is lame people, and so is touch football. Sure, every once in a while a kid breaks a collarbone or Stefan hits me in the face with a barbell, but that`s part of the learning process isn't it? (What I learned from the barbell incident is that Stefan probably isn`t paying attention, so it`s a good idea to make sure you are out of range.)
When it`s my kid with the broken arm or missing teeth I might be singing a different tune, but to me it seems like we shelter kids to the point that they miss out on a few things. Like the proper way to light a campfire with no tinder or kindling whatsoever, just beer boxes and gasoline, like a real woodsman.
On a side note, a lot of people have asked me if Pookie and I are going to get our own reality TV show. They are joking I hope, but it has been asked enough times that I thought I would address it.
I really don`t think people would find watching us all that interesting. Compared to Octomom and that freaky Mormon family, our little family unit is pretty dull. Not as dull as lot of people, but still, nothing I would want to watch on TV.
Also, as some of you may have noticed, the whole reality TV show thing didn`t exactly turn out to be 'aces' for old Jon Gosselin. The guy started the show as a regular Joe in holy-shit-mode, and went to Public Enemy Number 1 before the kids were even old enough to tell them what a failure he was. I would wager he would have preferred to take his hen-pecking in private, but he cracked, became the villian and is now a reviled deadbeat dad being sued by TLC. Where do I sign up?
Big Congratulations to Tess and Archie! Tess and Archie are friends of ours that had a healthy baby boy this morning. Its always great to hear when good people have kids, it kind of seems like the good people of the world are slowly breeding out the assholes. That's probably just me, but still, Pookie and I are very happy for them.
We are at 24 weeks and counting, the babies cometh.
Safety must be big business, because "safe" is code for "expensive as shit". Every baby book tells you that when buying (insert whatever item is the topic of conversation), do not choose an inexpensive model, because you can't put on a price on safety. The good people at Graco and Fisher Price (not to mention the evil bastards at Babies `R Us, who will be pleased to know I am now bad-mouthing them in 15 countries and every continent but Antarctica), have no issue putting a price on safety.
Somehow baby merchandise has been place on the Need Scale right next to food and shelter. With no trace of humour in their face, they will tell you that it is absolutely imperative that the expensive organic mattress is what your child sleeps on. Who the hell cares if their mattress is organic? Its not like its a salad, the kid isn`t going to eat it is he? And if he does, maybe a little pesticide is a good thing when you are chowing down on something you have been peeing on for the last two years.
I`m not really all that old, but if we use the 8 year old mark as the start of childhood where you are allowed kind of wheel around by yourself, I have been out and about for 22 years. A lot of good times were had, and a lot of toys were played with that you will never find today. Outside of Mexico, you will never find kids playing with lawn darts (at least the kind you could kill a water buffalo with), standing on the back seat of a car so they could wave to drivers when your dad passes them at 140 km/h, or buying their own BBs at the hardware store so they could shoot their friends with an air gun. Wearing a helmet when skiing was lame, and even if some kid smashed himself into a tree and scrambled his shit, it would still never occur to you to wear one unless you happened to ride a motorcycle to the hill and had nowhere to put your helmet anyway.
Not that I`m saying all of this progress is bad, when I ride a bike I make sure my dorky helmet is fastened properly, both because adults don`t roll out of crashes well, and because I usually have Rocky the Retriever with me who will blow you right off the bike to get to a turd he hasn`t smelled yet. Much of this progress has been for the greater good.
My point is more that when you sanitize and sterilize and pad the crap out of every activity, some of them aren`t as fun anymore. Laser tag is lame people, and so is touch football. Sure, every once in a while a kid breaks a collarbone or Stefan hits me in the face with a barbell, but that`s part of the learning process isn't it? (What I learned from the barbell incident is that Stefan probably isn`t paying attention, so it`s a good idea to make sure you are out of range.)
When it`s my kid with the broken arm or missing teeth I might be singing a different tune, but to me it seems like we shelter kids to the point that they miss out on a few things. Like the proper way to light a campfire with no tinder or kindling whatsoever, just beer boxes and gasoline, like a real woodsman.
On a side note, a lot of people have asked me if Pookie and I are going to get our own reality TV show. They are joking I hope, but it has been asked enough times that I thought I would address it.
I really don`t think people would find watching us all that interesting. Compared to Octomom and that freaky Mormon family, our little family unit is pretty dull. Not as dull as lot of people, but still, nothing I would want to watch on TV.
Also, as some of you may have noticed, the whole reality TV show thing didn`t exactly turn out to be 'aces' for old Jon Gosselin. The guy started the show as a regular Joe in holy-shit-mode, and went to Public Enemy Number 1 before the kids were even old enough to tell them what a failure he was. I would wager he would have preferred to take his hen-pecking in private, but he cracked, became the villian and is now a reviled deadbeat dad being sued by TLC. Where do I sign up?
Big Congratulations to Tess and Archie! Tess and Archie are friends of ours that had a healthy baby boy this morning. Its always great to hear when good people have kids, it kind of seems like the good people of the world are slowly breeding out the assholes. That's probably just me, but still, Pookie and I are very happy for them.
We are at 24 weeks and counting, the babies cometh.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Cowtown - The Pros and Cons
Luge Lessons, Summers in Rangoon.....
Pookie and I are both small town kids that have been transplanted to the big city. I think it`s a pretty natural thing to associate your own childhood with a "normal" childhood, and we are no different. We never really thought we would be raising kids in the city because we weren't raised in one ourselves. But, the fact of the matter is that unless Pookie discovers a Celine Dion-like singing voice (minus the bulging neck cords and annoying French accent), or I really work on my jumpshot, we aren't going anywhere for a very long time.
Calgary has its advantages. There are sports here other than hockey and street hockey, and a million other activities that you just don't find in smaller areas. The main downside is that you know that the more your kids like football and baseball (hopefully) or interpretive dance (hopefully not), the farther you will have to drive them in rush hour traffic to get there.
One funny thing I have noticed is that a small town dad that is happy to wake up at 5 in the morning to drive in a blizzard to a hockey tournament in Elkford, but is aghast at driving 20 minutes to the same tournament in Calgary. A matter of perspective I suppose.
Safety and crime are other issues. For some reason when I think of kids running around in the big city I automatically assume they are in a more dangerous town than the one I grew up in. It's easy to go into Maude Flanders mode (Won`t somebody think of the children?). Just a month ago some guy I never heard of was shot by some other guy over a drug deal, and Pincher had no murders. The fact that thousands of drug dealers sailed through the month just fine, and that 1.2 million other law abiding citizens that had no contact with crime whatsoever should carry some weight. Boring middle class shmoes who think big crime is tearing the `DO NOT REMOVE` tag off a mattress are not exactly in mortal danger here. Maybe I watch too much CTV.
More crime seems to equate to more danger would be my point, even though statistically the town I grew up in makes Tombstone look like Mayberry. (If you don`t know what Mayberry is, ask someone over 50) I think we will be able to steer the Pooklings away from lives of crime here as well as we could anywhere else.
The last issue is the weather. It may have nothing to do with raising kids, but the weather here sucks. Sorry Tourism Calgary, but you are full of shit. There is nothing majestic about scraping your car windshield or having snot freeze rock solid in your nose while you scurry to your car in April.
We have great friends here and no employment options of note anywhere else, so this is where we are going to be for a while. If you happen to pop by and the house is empty, we won Lotto Max and moved to San Diego to live on a golf course and roll naked in authentic Mexican cuisine on our birthdays (ewww). Small town people, big dreams.
By the way, not sure who checked the blog in Spain, but good work there Senor.
Until next time. (obviously)
Pookie and I are both small town kids that have been transplanted to the big city. I think it`s a pretty natural thing to associate your own childhood with a "normal" childhood, and we are no different. We never really thought we would be raising kids in the city because we weren't raised in one ourselves. But, the fact of the matter is that unless Pookie discovers a Celine Dion-like singing voice (minus the bulging neck cords and annoying French accent), or I really work on my jumpshot, we aren't going anywhere for a very long time.
Calgary has its advantages. There are sports here other than hockey and street hockey, and a million other activities that you just don't find in smaller areas. The main downside is that you know that the more your kids like football and baseball (hopefully) or interpretive dance (hopefully not), the farther you will have to drive them in rush hour traffic to get there.
One funny thing I have noticed is that a small town dad that is happy to wake up at 5 in the morning to drive in a blizzard to a hockey tournament in Elkford, but is aghast at driving 20 minutes to the same tournament in Calgary. A matter of perspective I suppose.
Safety and crime are other issues. For some reason when I think of kids running around in the big city I automatically assume they are in a more dangerous town than the one I grew up in. It's easy to go into Maude Flanders mode (Won`t somebody think of the children?). Just a month ago some guy I never heard of was shot by some other guy over a drug deal, and Pincher had no murders. The fact that thousands of drug dealers sailed through the month just fine, and that 1.2 million other law abiding citizens that had no contact with crime whatsoever should carry some weight. Boring middle class shmoes who think big crime is tearing the `DO NOT REMOVE` tag off a mattress are not exactly in mortal danger here. Maybe I watch too much CTV.
More crime seems to equate to more danger would be my point, even though statistically the town I grew up in makes Tombstone look like Mayberry. (If you don`t know what Mayberry is, ask someone over 50) I think we will be able to steer the Pooklings away from lives of crime here as well as we could anywhere else.
The last issue is the weather. It may have nothing to do with raising kids, but the weather here sucks. Sorry Tourism Calgary, but you are full of shit. There is nothing majestic about scraping your car windshield or having snot freeze rock solid in your nose while you scurry to your car in April.
We have great friends here and no employment options of note anywhere else, so this is where we are going to be for a while. If you happen to pop by and the house is empty, we won Lotto Max and moved to San Diego to live on a golf course and roll naked in authentic Mexican cuisine on our birthdays (ewww). Small town people, big dreams.
By the way, not sure who checked the blog in Spain, but good work there Senor.
Until next time. (obviously)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)