26 and 3

Howdy Blog!

It seems ungodly early this morning, but that is because I'm so tired that I creak when I move. The Birth-Nerds are snuggled neatly in the guest room bed. The Spousal Unit is un-tucked and sprawled across ours in a mess of dog and cats (see post blog post "Paper" for example). As for me, as is usual, I have been up since before the sun was twerkin' its ass crack up over the horizon.

The Birth-Nerds came this weekend to see the nursery, which is now mostly finished. What a process! If you ever decide you want to make yourself just a little crazier, choose a loverly chevron pattern for an accent wall in a room.

First you paint a basecoat. Then, you measure to find the center of the wall where it meets the baseboards and you place a dot with a pencil. Then, you measure six inches up and place another dot. You repeat this process until you become frustrated with your spouse for disappearing into their cell-phone while you strain your eyes. To express your frustration, you unleash a "silent but deadly" which starts a brief flatulence war that ends up chasing you both out of the room temporarily.

Next, you measure 10 inches to the right of each dot and you place another dot. You do this for each original dot moving to the right across the wall. Next you do the same for the left until you realize you should be using a level because thus far you've fuct everything up and have to back way up. At this point you argue with your spouse for a few minutes over the best way to accomplish the remainder of the project since you both have the best idea. Finally, you give-in to your spouse because you realize that he makes your dinner and think, much like the dog, you don't want to piss off the person that fills to food bowl when there are much bigger squirrels to chase.


At last, you connect the dots with this magnificent blue tape that doesn't delaminate your basecoat and also doesn't work worth a shit. You paint your stripes and remove the tape and then spend several hours after correcting each line by hand anyway. When all is said and done, you have a beautiful wall like the one pictured here. You stand back from it to admire your handiwork and think (despite numerous indications of ineptitude through the process), "Damn, we're good"!



I digress. In the old days, I thought I was cursed. I'd have a vision
of whatever, and know it was a good vision. Quite independently, I'd try to bring my vision to life. Often, folks would get hung-up on the process wondering what the hell I was up to. It wasn't until later in life that I realized that these pieces of bone and meat and wriggling muscle that we flap together while blowing air through them were useful in communicating vision with other people. That's when I decided to use this feature and learned my first word, "Dada".

Since then, speaking, writing, art, music, touch and all sorts of other modalities of communication have served me well as diapers to catch and deliver my cerebral incontinence to the masses. So it is strange to find myself in a position where there is a vision, but no words. That is where I am now.

 

When I hold the Neice, Kinley, or envision holding Elle, no words seem to sufficiently articulate how retarded it makes me feel. I am a nurse, a Master of Business Administration specialized in Healthcare Management, a Senior Executive Director, a skillful artist and a spouse of 13 years. I have served on industry political roundtable's, been in press and print, and have an IQ of 139. Despite all of this, Baby makes me feel so "special" I should be taking a short-bus to work!

My vocabulary reverts to that of Luca's. I neglect communicating with other humans. I lose my "big-picture" powers of objectivity, and processing power shrinks to a sphere the size of about 2 feet or less. I just LOSE everything for a half-witted, small hairless monkey, and am happy about it! Dare I say HAPPIEST about it!! (!!!)

So, now having experienced the stupefying power of these tiny hairless monkeys, I have decided to
study it while I am not helplessly trapped in its adamantine grip! Perhaps there is a way to harness or replicate this power in the stock market. At present, our tiny hairless monkey is 26 weeks and three days developed in the maturation chamber. I notice that the calendar that Maternal Birth-Nerd sent me says, "Sun, Oct. 06 - Day 185, 26 wks 3 days: Baby has a strong grip". Indeed.

Research indicates that after 26 weeks, entering the antepartum or

perinatal period, the chances of survival outside the womb have increased exponentially to a rate of greater than 90%. As such, we have put together a flashy habitat to distract the creature which will soon include wireless camera monitoring systems. This will allow me to study and monitor her from another room of the house where hopefully, she will have less of a diabolical sway over me. It is my hope that I can uncover her secret power and find a way articulate and replicate it.

Until then, I will continue to pour over the existing research. In the meantime, you can click here to see photos of the laboratory nursery thus far.