T-Minus 30 Hours to Gender . . .



   Just about 30 hours to go until the gender determining ultrasound. I have been looking at more “gender-determining ultrasound photos” than I care to admit. I feel like a weird-o, but I just don’t trust Portsmouth Naval Hospital to get ANYTHING right. Also, you would think those parts are easier to tell apart, but at this stage, no, they are not. They had better be printing the little photos out for us; I’ll be comparing them to 75,452 internet ultrasound photos.

   Everyone keeps thinking that I’ll be disappointed if it’s a girl. I really won’t. Truth be told, if it’s a girl it means I get to do tiny toenails, braid hair, play dress-up, learn to sew princess dresses, and live a frillier fancier home life taking tea with a plethora of stuffed animals… I’m already looking forward to all those things if it turns out to be a girl.

   My only worry is that they will get it wrong. Every guy wants a boy, and if you have read any of my posts to date you know I’m not any different. I won’t be a shred less excited to find out that it’s a girl, but I know that if they say “girl, totally a girl” I am going to assume they are wrong. Not because I don’t want a girl, or because I really want it to be a boy; but because to date I haven’t heard anyone say anything positive about this hospital’s competency, nor could they even manage to get us scheduled correctly (it took three weeks of hassle just to get the appointment made), nor have any of our interactions thus far been positive. Therefore, I don’t expect anything good to come out of this visit, which sucks. We should be looking forward to this, not in any sense dreading it.

   I worry too that my immediate frustration of hearing it’s a girl and worrying that they are wrong will get in the way of my excitement for what it is. “It’s a girl” I’m willing to bet you are wrong. “Excuse me?” Damn, my inside voice got out again . . .

   I am excited to find out though. I’m sure on the brighter side of looking at it, since normally people find out at 18-20 weeks and we are almost at 22 weeks, we’ll get a more defined view and for sure answer.

   I am also looking forward to shooting our gender announcement video. I have drafted a pretty clever little screenplay in my head; I think it’s gonna be pretty great! I’ll of course post it up; we’ll shoot it this week (probably tomorrow evening) and have the announcement uploaded by Friday I am hoping. What a cool world we live in, technologically. Though I did just read about someone who did a movie trailer-like announcement. If only Don LaFontaine were still alive, I would TOTALLY email him asking for the voice over announcing my child’s gender. That would hand’s down be the best way to start your life I think; as narrated by Don LaFontaine.

   So, that’s what is on my mind today. Just got to get through today and noon tomorrow, then it’s off to Satan’s Lair, formally known as Portsmouth Naval. It’s like all the world’s most useless people put into one (not really) working hospital. Stay subscribed, announcement to come!



My Life: Baby-Goggled.


 I’m amazed at how differently I have been looking at life. Every little thing in the back of my head is about my kid now. However, probably not in the way most parents think… or maybe it is?

-Stuck in traffic this morning, I started thinking about how terrible it would be to get stuck in traffic with grouchy kids in the car. How do I entertain them while also dealing the plight of rush-hour traffic? I don’t think I could handle listening to Miley Cyrus or that Bieber kid sing about boyfriends while also having to suppress road rage.

-While walking through Wal-Mart, I start noticing all the things that my kid would probably grab off the shelf. There are a lot of cleaners sitting low; and the electronics section is suddenly a game of “How quickly could I go broke if my kid smashed all THAT on the ground . . .” 

-Everything I eat makes me hope that my kid doesn’t have food allergies. They always want whatever you are eating and I’d hate to have to tell my kid no on the premise of health issues. “Daddy doesn’t share!!” No, dad doesn’t want you to swell up like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka.

   On a more serious note, another thing I have been really concerned with is the “today’s generation” way of growing up. There are a lot of things I really don’t think I’d be able to let me kid do. Things that I just don’t think are healthy.

   Examples: sitting inside all day playing on a video game, watching a hefty chunk of today’s television; the shows are complete garbage, never being kicked out of the house to go play in the backyard.

   Activities where the brain doesn’t really have to work at all. There is not a shred of creativity or imagination happening when a kid’s eyeballs are glued to a 3Ds.

   Imagination is a rarely found thing it would seem nowadays. Where you used to turn a pine cone, a magnifying glass and an ant pile into a dragon and a castle; now you just play a game and stare at a screen with dragons and castles. While countless ants’ lives have indeed been spared from the wrath of the magnifying glass; kids just don’t do the same things they used to do to probe their imagination. They are called legos. Make a castle or a moon rover or something. . . .

   I know other parents will be quick to judge, “No cable? Can’t have fast food? ONLY get to play video games an hour and a half per day during the week?! What kind of a poverty-stricken family must you come from?!”

   What must surely follow from these decisions is either being picked on at school for not having those things at home, or my kid coming home and complaining about all the ‘cool things’ their friends have, watch and get to do.

“Dad, I wanna be a Jersey Girl, like the ones on Jenny’s TV!”

Well, we weren’t going to abandon you in the streets, but, maybe we should reconsider such things…  

   Or worse, giving my child an honest answer as to why they aren’t allowed to watch or do some of the things their friends do.  . . Then having to explain to the other kid’s parents why my kid is ‘insulting’ their kid at school later.

“Listen, I didn’t actually SAY your daughter is a hussie and your son is a gangsterific thugster. What I SAID was you let your daughter watch shows like Tiara Toddlers and Jersey Wives, and that she wears clothes that were run through a shredder and show more skin than a Maxim shoot. As for any comments about your son, maybe you don’t know this, but he wears his pants around his shins and I’ve heard less foul language from an Eminem album. I think my daughter understands that such a lifestyle leads inevitably to “hussyism” and “thuggery” and therefore drew her own conclusions. . . kids today, eh?”

   Yup. I can confidently say I am pretty sure this conversation will actually happen at least once within the next 10 years. At least.

Sometimes, however, there are the times when, at least to me, it’s just what would seem to be common sense for ‘not letting your kids do…’

“Well, you don’t have kids, so don’t judge. You can’t understand until you actually have kids…”

He’s six years old and punching things off the shelf and stomping on them. I am pretty sure he needs his little butt whipped, or a time-out or something!

“Oh, it’s that simple is it? Just resort to spanking him? Oh, I wish I would have known, thanks Dr. Phil with the years of experience in caring for children. You should write a book or something . . .”

All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t let him punch things off the shelf and run around the store destroying stuff. He’s STILL doing it. Are you going to pay for all the stuff he’s broken?

“They shouldn’t put expensive things down low where kids can grab it. Someday you’ll understand when you have kids…”

   Anyways, as we get closer to there actually being a wee-baby around, I have found myself evaluating “what I would do” whenever we are out in public. It’s not that I’m judging people; I’m just always wondering if I would let my kid do certain things. We’ll find out soon enough…

So that’s the latest I suppose. Nothing too new to report. We are anxiously counting down the days until the ultrasound and all I do is think about things like this all day. It’s kinda nerve-wracking. Well, keep an eye out, more coming soon . . .


The Cheetus Fetus and a Quick Recap


Well, it’s been three weeks since a real post here on Doing It Daddy Style. I guess a combination of vacation, general life busyness and a severe traffic jam of ideas in my brain have all kept me from making real progress here… Which is kinda also what this post is; that idea traffic jam spilled onto the screen. We’ll call it a quick catch-up.


The progress of our wee-fetus? Currently at 20 weeks. . .  We have come up with some great names based on my iPhone’s app telling us all the technical happenings in the week-by-week development.


Last week we found out that there is this “…cheese-like substance starting to cover [our] baby…called Vernix.”


Armed with this knowledge, a conversation ensued that ended with the new nickname “The Cheetus. The cheesy Fetus Mom-to-be’s know and love.” To be read in the (no pun intended) cheesiest sales announcer voice you can muster.


It has also been brought to my attention by Marie that Noah is apparently out of the running for a boy name. We made it five months under the premise of this being the name. And now it’s out. Cue my mother’s ‘I told you so’ on the never-ending name game. I thought we were doing well with such name desiciveness so early.


The biggest issue that surrounds this picking of the boy name is that it has to flow verbally with the middle name Dale. It’s become a pass down along my father’s side of the family… So, I am casually doomed to using it. Not that I mind in anyway, it’s just kind of a crunchy name to pair with something else when said.


And now that our wee-cheetus can hear, I have been giving it updates on the world every once in a while. Mostly I inform s/he of the things that it won’t be doing, such as talking back, not eating vegtables, throwing tantrums. . . . My kid is going to be a perfect angel. I tell it all about the latest events around the house, like the dogs licking their butts and such. My kid is in the know in the most local of news.


Another week and a half and we’ll know the gender. More than excited to know either way. We should have found out by now, but thanks to the Navy medical system and an “employee” that sits at the scheduling desk with the phone off the hook….. it took two and a half weeks JUST to get an appointment scheduled.

On the plus side, when they do look to see what’s happening in the Cheetus Nether regions, there will be much less question one way or the other.


Here in the U.S. we had Father’s day this past Sunday. It was awkward getting texts and phone calls with people telling ME happy Father’s Day.


“Oh yeah, that’s right . . . “ was my average response. It’s not that I forgot my kid, it’s that I forgot this day finally applies to me.


The father of a Cheetus. Wonder if I could get a bumper sticker or a shirt with that on it. Instead of “Proud Dad-to-be…” I could advertise my “Proud Parent of a Wee-Cheetus” status. Like an honor roll, but cheesier.


Well, having not really said anything useful thus far, I suppose it’s time to wrap this post up. Back to the name drawing board (BOO! sound effects from the crowd in my brain… ) and counting down the days until the 26th when we get our ultrasound. Gender defined shopping, here we come. Keep close, more coming. . . .