Saturday, April 28, 2007

So we....

..feed
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we sleep
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we feed
and we feed
and we feed
and we feed
and we change...











..and then we get cuddletime.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

"My Water Broke.."

Well, I never got THAT particular phone call, but today at 11:38a.m., I got this call:

"Robert, they are letting Millie out of the hospital...TODAY!"

And we rushed downtown to get her. It was an amazing trip down Georgia Avenue, to the hospital and into the Intensive Care Unit...highs and lows as the enormity of taking another human being home with us finally crashed against my shores, leaving me eroded but enriched. It is a breathaking experience, one many of you know, and one many of have decided not to know. I walk hand in hand with the former, and do not begrudge the latter, as again, it is an enormous prospect, and I cannot help but be shot through with doubt and fear...

...and love and joy! We ARE going to be great parents! This does NOT mean the end of Robby as we know him. In fact, sitting on my front porch earlier tonight, sipping the last of my Scotch (my father, who had been visiting, cleared out my inventory of scotch, except for the bit belonging to "Robert, NEVER take another man's last drink") I was thinking of many things, from how to best strategically position baby gates to keep our dog (who seems to like putting baby heads in her mouth) and our infant separated, but appreciated, AND the notion of turning my basement into an ersatz speakeasy to host Happy Hours every Friday for the neighborhood. Heck, with its own side entrance and new lounge aesthetic....it could be a grand, grand idea.

Eight years ago we decided to have children. Eight years have passed, with us living good lives, having fun, sleeping in and being little kids. We will still take our little kiddedness with us forward, but now we have a little playmate to help us remember what it truly means to be a child, and to experience this world for the first time.



Firsts? Well, Millie's first breath of "fresh" air was an underground parking garage and noxious pipe effluence. I was glad to get her home, and onto the front porch, where she could smell grass, and new rain.

Welcome Home Millie!

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

More Movies....

I suppose it is tough waking up to find that your pig has bogarted your best meds. A helping hand from mommy settles things down nicely.




Yep...I imagine eventually I will get back to blogging about my nethers and such.....be patient!

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Hiccups!

So, here we go, I have become the Ultimate Baby Blogger! This is Millie with the hiccups. Apparently, Cecil B DeDaddy has no idea how to capture sound, so you have to look for visual cues!




Thanks for watching!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Consider yourself, at home....



..consider yourself...part of the family.

Millie Isabella Lach
April 16, 2007

Mille came into our lives a little bit early, so around 12:40 pm on that Monday. She is a delight, and everyone fell in love with her. I cannot describe what when on in the operating room when she was born, or my Goodely Wyfe will kill me, but suffice to say, it was very, very messy.

The hospital staff at both the Washington Hospital Center and Children's Hospital of DC were all very , VERY attractive, young and professional. If for a second you ever think that we are raising a bunch of screw headed no nothings, go to a hospital and check out the resident staff. They will amaze you by their skills and talents, which actually do manage to overshadow their hawtness from time to time, but just barely.

I loved how the extremely sexy anathesiologist got all up in the Goodely's chicken, flirting with her and practically cuckolding me right in front of my eyes, but all of this was to somehow make the idea of a huge needle going into her spine palatable. I think he could have shown her the joys of forbidden love at that point, and she would have agreed. I think Suziehulaloop and I would certainly have!

Millie came out, all sticky, hairy and wet, at a comfortable 7 pounds 5 ounces, but with a bright and shining golf ball sized open lesion just above her heiny. Just looking at that thing made me cry. It is odd how you know what you are going to get, but the seeing of it makes it all the worse.

Crazy though, because very quickly, as we waited to have her transferred to the other hospital to get her stabilized and prepped for surgery, what made me the most emotional was not all the silly little things she may NOT be able to do, like walking, whatever (she does have a lots of good mobility signs) , but all the things she was going to BE able to do. I had WAY too much time to wait for the transfer, but as I cupped her little head, and placed my other palm at the small of her wee little back, I thought of all of you. I thought of the Traveller, of the Maestro, the HulaHoop and the NOVA Hivemind. The Chatty Kathy, The GTM...family, friends, the gamers, the lovers, the dreamers and me. I thought of her namesake, and how Millie Torre, my recently passed grandmother, would be happy to know that someday, long after I am gone, someone will ask this little "Grandma Millie" to tell her stories to them, and how her stories will be our stories.

Children's is non denominational, so there were few icons or prayers in evidence (from the institution, that is, we had everyone from pagans to catholics lined up) and the inscription at the bottom of the picture posted above her super sci-fi incubatrix read "Children are the messages we leave for the future." I encourage you all to feel free to "leave a message with Millie" however and whenever you want.

Some nitty gritty bitties: Millie has the "fuck a bunch of Spina Bifida" as one of her step aunts put it. The neurosurgeons did some preliminary testing, and so far Millie is showing decreased sensations below her waist, but has some..

..oh hell....you know what? All y'all has to know is that she is beautiful, healthy and ours. The rest of it will work itself out, and after 3 days in hospital, i have heard it way too much to type it all out again. I know many of you are curious, but isn't your curiosity satisfied by FINALLY knowing the sex? For those of you that I told already, do NOT tell the Goodely that you knew, or she will take steps to ensure we will never have another child of our own, by de-testiculating me. That's a medical term, by the way...that much I remember.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

On Manscaping and Impulse Control Troubles

So, I love my girlfriends, or friends-what-are-girls so much. Y'all are so very open and chatty about a wide range of subjects. I have recently been doing some self-beautification and alteration (tatoos and such) the most recent of which has been a round of manscaping.

Yep, I give a trim up to my down there on a fairly regular basis, so was wondering what the current trends were in the distaff groundskeeping.

I was very surprised to see that there is still a wide range of nether forestation in evidence! My field research has only been in the form of oral exams....hmm...ahem...has only been in a question and answer format, but the data is conclusive. Everything from the hardwood floor to nigh-topiarian designs to the rampant hippy verdancy was represented in our sample audience. It was very heartening indeed.

Heartening because as much as I have my own preferences (which I will not state, as a clinical observer, I must remain neutral) I still hold to the notion that we gentlemen prefer a variety in all things. Needless to say, we are all to be EXTREMELY grateful to whomever allows us to get close enough to romp through the flora whatsoever that the length and breadth of the surrounding copse is more or less moot, it is still nice to know that folk are switching it up, and trying new things. You never know what you are going to get, and isn't that part of the true fun of passion? It is difficult to keep your paramour guessing after all the years of marriage and dating, so perhaps a little surprise in the lawn maintenance can go a long way to kindling or rekindling the moments in a safer way than a stray pinkie finger might.

Alright, perhaps I won't state my preferences, but I was "raised" on mid-seventies Playboy magazines, and thus it isn't very surprising that the well edged equilateral triangle is one of my favorite geometrical shapes.

There is no point to this post, obviously, so you can read into or out of it anything you wish. I am glad that I use the titles of my posts to keep me on track, because I almost forgot to mention the "impulse control" portion of the show. On a whim, and since I was recently thinking of the Playboy magazines of my youth, I wondered how difficult it might be to lay hands on one such journal issue, or perhaps an even earlier copy...perhaps the month of my birth? Well, Robbybloggers, apparently it is as easy as E-B-A-Y! I found this gem for a mere pittance, and it is on its way to the house.



The finest that August 1968 had to offer. As always, and the along the same lines of why you tune in here....I do indeed read it for the articles. :)

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

As If I were Not Sexy Enough..

I went and got a tattoo last monday!



I KNOW! Who would have thunk the late thirties Robbyblog would go under the needle, the NEEDLE for the love of Bob, and get himself some ink? Well, most of us, actually.

Before:

I had wanted to get a tatoo like, forever. Forever-ever? Forever ever EVER! I think they are sexy, stylish, spiritual and nifty as all get out. Yes, I am sure whatever culture invented lifetime pain-inking hoped that someday some soon to be daddy would call the process and the result "nifty". Like any major decision I have ever made, I thought about it foryears, then pulled the trigger in mere moments.

There was some thought to my process that these kinds of things (going to London, getting a tattoo, lion taming, etc.) are my Last Gasp before the Wombrider makes his or her arrival. You know, there is a little something to that, but there is so much more as well. I am not breathing my last before the baby comes. I have become, in some ways, a better person than I have ever been. If you are looking for the ModestyBlog, you know by now that this isn' it. I love me, and I really love the person that I have become these last nine months. I feel more empowered than any kind of feeling like the end is nigh. The beginning is nigh!

The bear paw? Well, as I said at The Traveler's going away dinner "The bear has always been my animal to call". Although the monkey and I have many similarities as well, it has always been the bear that I have seen in my visions, and feel in my heart. Even the most superficial traits of the bear seem to apply to me, cuddly, sleepy, ferocious in anger, hairy, growly, protective, etc. Heck, I likes me the bears, and I likeys me the tribal look.

During:

The Bethesda Tattoo Company was delightful. Of course it took longer and was more expensive than I expected, but everyone there was very talented, polite and clean. As usual, I projected my preconceived notions on the tatoo parlour, and was intimidated and scared at first when I got my estimate and made my appointment. When I went back, everyone seemed a little smaller, and less scary to me. We started chatting a bit, and everything was cool.

My artist was some "kid" (just a few years younger than me) but was every inch a true professional. There was a ritual washing and shaving of the intended area, heavy "old school" metal playing (is that Judas Priest I hear?) and he recommended some breathing exercises for the pain and said we could take as many breaks as I needed to.

I am very happy to say that I ended up "sitting" (I was laying down) like a champ. his words, not mine. We did two hours of the stinging inking non stop and from start to finish. I did, of course, sweat so much I went right through my clothes and all over his bench, but as we know, that is what my people bring to the table. yes, it hurt like crazy, no, it wasn't unbearable by any stretch.

After:

OMG...I got a frickin tattoo on my chest! What the heck was I thinking? How long do I have to live with this? Forever?!?! Really? Okay, breathe. I do actually love it. I love it a lot, and I like the placement, as I can see the "+12 Bear Paw of Power" every morning during my usually foppish toilette. I can't wait to read stories about bears to the little one, and have him or her look up and see that Poppa Bear is right there, ready to love, cuddle, and to proceed with the rending should anyone try to invade our territory. ;)

Sunday, April 08, 2007

In Which I Make a Promise I Cannot Hope to Keep...

That's right Robbybloggers. I hereby vow to post EVERY DAY for a week! In the words of the immortal Wayne Campbell:

"Sh'ah...right!"

Let's get started then without further ado with the Giggles Farm. Yes, the baby's room is compleatly complete! For that matter, the entire house is in what I consider "showroom readiness", and has attained a level of cleanliness and organization such as it has never seen before. I am prouder than a hung peacock, I must say. It is an amazing feeling, as I was putting the last touches on the baby's room, I found that I needed a screwdriver. Well, I went right downstairs to the basement, directly to my new tool-chest (thanks, parents!) and opened the drawer where the screwdrivers are kept, and voila! There was a screwdriver! I KNOW! Can you imagine such a thing? Honestly, three months ago, nobody in this house could.

I de-fragged the house this winter, much like you would defrag a hard drive. I opened every box, uncovered every layer of miscellaneous belonging we had, divided it all up into easily definable categories, and then threw it all away. Okay, maybe I kept some of it, but in the end, we have much much, much less stuff, and all of said stuff is now more or less where it belongs.

Amazing, absolutely amazing. The Goodely Wyfe and I have been having some discussions about how nothing is ever "perfect", and it seemed to me that she was advocating that we never try for perfection, as since it is never attainable, why waste effort trying to get there? I think that if you don't try for perfection, however, you will never know how far you can actually go. Doing one's best is laudable, its true, but how will you know what your best is, if you don't at least try fotr the best imaginable?

Its disappointing some times, to be true, and i am constantly "failing" to create perfection at work, at home, in the gym or wherever, but striving for the ideal , or whatever the ideal is in my mind, has led me to tackle some projects and create some things that I did not think I was capable of. The latest project of course, was the Giggles Farm.

Since I know the sex of our baby, and the Goodely does not, we needed to keep the room gender neutral, but I wanted it to be homey and festive. We decided on a farm theme, or a barnyard theme if you will, and here are the results:



Whoops! Alright then, that must be the "before" picture..lets try again, shall we?



No, still before...ah, here's the ticket!



And a few more....





Many thanks to the Goodely Wyfe for her encouragement and support, the Maestro for his unimaginable talents and brushwork, and of course, Giggles, for being my inspiration.

Thanks to y'all for reading and waiting somewhat patiently for posts! See you tomorrow!