What, me, Pregnant?

I think I’m pregnant.

Yes me.

No, I’m serious.

Yes, I’m a man I know.

Uh, huh. I understand this is impossible.

But before you dismiss my claims as delirium and pepper my editors inbox with “where’d you find this insensitive, out-of-touch loon” you should hear me out.

It started a couple of months ago. I was reading ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and receiving e-mail from Baby Center. I noticed – and shrugged off – some of the “changes” that my wife might possibly encounter as the hormones raged within during her pregnancy. So I took a mental note to ‘be extra sweet, sensitive and cautious. She’s going through a lot and needs your unfailing support.’

Then something strange happened. I began to notice the stuff I read happening, only not to my wife. It was happening to me!

There were the days I’d come home from work and be completely exhausted. Then there were the days when I’d be moody and irritable. LEAVE ME ALONE! I was all emotional and wishy-washy. Then the cravings hit. Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! On my cheeseburger, on my sub, on my sandwich, for breakfast, for lunch. Now it’s heartburn everyday and even I find myself feeling a bit insecure about my weight (you’d explode in laughter if you saw my thin frame!). Whatever will I tell my mother?

As the sun sets on baby Quincy’s cozy time in utero and begins to dawn on his first breath of polluted oxygen, my greatest fear has to be contractions.

I have daydreams of running up and down the basketball court with the guys on Wednesday night and suddenly being overcome with abdominal cramping and shortness of breath. Then the game abruptly ends and I’m surrounded by sweaty jocks in cut sleeves and shorts, propping my head under someone’s jeans and fanning me with a sock all the while crying out, “It’s going to be ok, man. Just breath man and try to relax. Anybody have a watch?”
Chris

Connecting in the Center of Chaos

Jordan and I had one of the best weekends together in quite a while. With the hectic schedule we have, it’s always hard to have one-on-one time, but somehow, in the midst of our chaos, we found it.

On Saturday night, we took turns trying to beat stages on his “Ultimate Spiderman” game on his Nintendo DS. I somehow forgot how addicting and fun those handheld systems are. He would ask for his turn after I died and I, the 12 year old I am, said, “Let me try one more time!” Finally after about 5 tries between us, he defeated the stage, rescued the people and all was safe in NYC again.

On Sunday, we went to the Washington Wizards game. Jordan is an avid Chicago Bulls fan, because he was named after the great Michael Jordan. So we stroll into Verizon, I in a Wizards t-shirt and Jordan in his Scottie Pippen Chicago Bulls jersey and the fun begins. The game was pretty lopsided from start to finish, but Jordan was up on his feet waving his towel, banging his thunder sticks and cheering on his Bulls. It was fun to watch. We took turns snapping pictures on the digital camera trying to see who could get the coolest photos.

Times like that I treasure. It’s unfortunate at times that we stay so busy as a family with sports, church and work, but the in-between times, the moments like Jordan and I shared over the weekend when you can find a way to be alone together and have fun in the midst of crowds, are special times. And it’s something I know he’ll always remember.
Chris

OK, So It was a Stretch

Dinner. Monday night. My wife turns to me and says, “I really didn’t like your blog much last week. It was like you were beating Deion down for his grades.”

I took in the constructive criticism and thought about it. She was right. If the boys brought home F’s, I’d have been like, “Couldn’t you at least have made it into a C?” Oh the hypocrisy. There would be no TV, no movies, no video games. Nothing until … you guessed it, the F’s became – dare I say it – C’s.

So I exaggerated a little. And in my mind, I can hear my grandmother saying, “You made C’s didn’t you? …well then!”

So finally seeing the error of my ways, I now have reason to be proud of Deion. We learned at last week’s Parent-Teacher conferences that Deion scored highest in his grade on one of his benchmarks tests and top three in two others, missing only three questions on his math exam and outscoring his other classmates by over 20 points on his Civics test. All of his tests were far above the school standard for passing. So I’m proud. Very proud.

So I was wrong to say that I preferred F’s to C’s. But you forgive me, right?

Chris

Hey, Boys! Bring Home Some F’s!

Sounds absurd, but I mean it. I’d rather my boys bring home a couple of F’s on their report card rather a lazy ‘C.’

Deion got his report card last Thursday. He had four A’s, two B’s and two C’s. To say the least, I wasn’t fired up about the C’s, but I could have lived with them had they been merited. You know, from a class where he struggled in, but did his very best.

But I can’t love a ‘C’ when they’re in Gym class and Home Ec.

It takes a “special” student to get low marks in gym and Home Ec. And when I say special I mean lazy. These are two classes where he has no homework, so there’s no, “I forgot to turn it in” excuse. It’s all class participation, bookwork and hands on instruction. So how in the world does a student of his magnitude, who made the honor roll two periods ago, sink to this level? “But it wasn’t gym, it was health!” he debated. Of course it was.

Laziness. Tried and true.

Had he brought home a ‘C’ in English or Science, I wouldn’t have been so floored, but our family rule is that you never have less than an ‘A’ in gym and you never, ever, never, ever, never, ever score low grades in an elective class, a course YOU picked yourself. A class YOU wanted to take.

But then again, Deion is “special” like that.
Chris