Why I Want to be a Good Father

People often say that pregnancy is the most beautiful time in a woman's life. This is a LIE. She is uncomfortable, she is in pain, she has digestive upset that would make a bad comedy writer blush, she gets arm hair. The headaches never stop. The back pain is cinematic in its aspirations.

Things swell, and change color, and generally look different. She gains this olfactory sense that rivals that of a drug dog, and every foul thing she smells she blames on the man in her life. Then there's this day-long process of pushing a pot roast through a space that is, by and large, the size of a grape.

I just hope this daughter of ours is worth it, for her sake.

I want to be a good father because I don't want to have the desire to have another kid in the future because this one ends up screwed up - I don't know if I can willingly put Kirsten through this again. At least, not until they find a better way to treat the pain sensitivity that is part and parcel of having depression.

Interesting factoid: an inability to cope normally with pain is a diagnostic symptom of major depression.

Anyway, I love my wife. Seeing how hard this whole reproduction process is on her makes me wonder why people tried having sex after they discovered what came of it.

I Wonder if I'll Ever Tell My Daughter About This

We're at the point in the pregnancy (or, rather, Kirsten is) where being kicked by the baby is no longer a cute adorable flutter, but is instead a wickedly-powerful roundhouse to the navel. Every now and again I'll hear my wife go "oof!" while our little female version of Chuck Norris (hopefully without the beard with the fist in it) gives her a wallop. These kicks are actually visibile - I can see Kirsten's stomach pop out when the little fetus lets her have it.

All this physical activity does bring to mind the fact that while today we have a fetus, we will have a real live human being in just four short weeks. Actually, I'm hoping five or six more weeks, just to give us time to prepare, whereas Kirsten is most likely wishing it would just be over now.

And that realization that soon we will have real, live, human being other than us living under our roof makes me wonder what my daughter will think of my internet footprint. Honestly, I've probably revealed as much about myself over the internet as I have in real life conversations over the past five or six years. And that worries me - what will my daughter think of all the things I've said? Will she agree or disagree with my posts on political boards? Will she wonder why I ever became a monitor of a message board for a kids game? Will she read my blog and wonder what it is that ever made her mother marry me?

This isn't something I've ever really thought I'd wonder about. I mean, what 20-something thinks about the consequences of his internet footprint other than for potential employers? If I should - and I hope this doesn't come up - pass away before I get the chance to know my daughter, the stories that Kirsten tells of me, the stories that my parents tell of me, and what she reads of my handiwork on the information superhighway are the three most likely ways she'll learn about me.

So now I have to wonder whether my textual history is what I really want her to know of me. I'll never delete anything that I've ever posted, because it's what I thought at the time - it's a snapshot of my mindset at that exact moment. I just hope that when the time comes to tell my daughter what my screennames have been around the world wide web, and when she takes the time to look at some of those spaghetti strands of thought that I've thrown against the wall, she'll decide that the pasta is cooked.

Speaking of No-Talent Hacks

So, Kirsten and I were watching TV tonight in order to avoid facing the fact that we're having a baby in a month and are completely unready...

Sorry, I digress. Back on topic, we were watching an ad for that new USA show White Collar, and I thought I recognized an actress whose image flashed on the screen.

And I did!

Turns out it's Tiffani Thiesen. Not the one that I remember from high school (probably NSFW, but if you like hot chicks, click away), but Tiffani Thiesen nonetheless. Good for her, you know? It's nice to see that some people can still get work when they need it.

Anyway, this made me wonder, whatever happened to Yasmine Bleeth?

Turns out she kinda got arrested and fell off the planet.

Her mug shot stemming from a cocaine-related arrest in Detroit in 2001 is not how I remembered her at all. No, sir.

That's what happens when you leave Baywatch to "concentrate on a movie career."

OH MY GOD

http://www.getyourbuckleon.com/