Tor Baby Countdown: 50 Days

I'm not sure I fit the image of a dad. Look at that guy. That guy's a dad. I don't wear sweaters like that and, if I did, I certainly wouldn't fill them out as well. I mean, that's what my wife looks like and that's what our daughter will look like but I have a poop-ton of work to do to get to that. He sets the dad standard.

I lack the balance necessary to be a dad. Dads pick their kids up and put them on their shoulders. My body's already like a Jenga tower with most of the pieces missing. Placing a toddler on top of that can only lead to disaster.

Now put a wooden child on top.

One of my problems is that my wrists are so small. In utero, my daughter already has wrists close in size to mine. I don't wear watches because the only ones that will fit me would have to be bought at Justice. While it would be cute to have matching Father/Daughter pink sparkle watches, I'm not into it.

Dads wear Dockers or Brooks Brothers. I wear t-shirts with funny sayings and pictures on them.

Dads always have a tool belt on so they can fix things. The greeter at Home Depot asks me, "Are you sure?" when I enter.

Dads drink beer. I prefer beverages that end in "fizz."

"I didn't know it was time for the Giants game already."

Dads protect their daughters from unworthy suitors. I would spend most of the pre-date hoping they like me and find me funny.

Dads are expected to kill spiders and other bugs. I tell exterminators that I have their back and then run screaming out of the house and hole up in the nearest TCBY.

In conclusion, I'm not ready.

Tor Baby Countdown: 70 Days

Every Tuesday, my wife and I log on to Baby Center to find out what size our daughter is in relation to a fruit or vegetable (except for that weird jumbo shrimp week). It is a very exciting time. This week's vegetable is a "good-size" cabbage. We are at the point where my wife winces at the reveal. She doesn't want a "good-size" anything.

Here's the thing - there's not enough room in a human woman to put a baby. Sure a woman can gain a whole bunch of weight but she can't gain a new spot on her body. It's not like putting an addition on a home. So the organs have to go somewhere. The stomach goes at the base of the throat. The liver goes behind the lung. And the gall bladder goes to Florida because it's been cold and rainy.

The baby keeps growing through all of this internal reorganization so those organs never get to really settle. On top of that, the baby is a huge jerk and punches and kicks for room like an unreasonable bedmate. My wife is walking around while the baby punches her in the heart as it screams "THIS IS WHERE THE LOVE COMES FROM!" in soundless baby mouth movements. There is no gratitude. "Just keep sending stuff through that cord if you know what's good for you, lady." And my wife does know what's good for her.

Women have been having babies for tens of years based on statistics generated from observing the people I frequent life with. You would think women would have adapted by now. (Yes, I'm still watching Life.) Now I'm just spitballing here but what about a more skeletal womb, something made of a strong metal? It would basically be a steel hamster ball. The baby's hands can't handle punching that for very long. After the first few babies come out with deformed hand nubs, the word would get around to the other steel wombs. Problem solved.*

Alternative Approach: We have a friend who is also pregnant and a couple of weeks ahead of us. She has gained about 1/4 of the weight my wife has. I have not seen her but the baby must look like it's vacuum-sealed into her belly. This is another great way to limit the baby's movements and to also save you money on those expensive 3-D ultrasounds. Something to think about.

Picture him much younger and with less clothes. Also, yeah, people do this.

*Getting the steel hamster ball out would require a C-Section but they were probably going to do that anyway. C-Sections are the new bloodletting.