Tiff and I had gone to Missouri for Thanksgiving. Our flight left at 7:49 a.m. on Thursday, November 28. This meant that we needed to be at the airport about 2 hours ahead. I didn't want to bother my roommate, Chris, to drive us to the airport at 5 a.m., not that he would have, so we took Rapid Rover, a shuttle-van service. The only catch was that the only time they could pick us up was at 4:15 a.m. This meant that Tiff and I had to be awake by 3 a.m. so we could shower, dress and be ready for the van. this wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have to clean the house before I went to sleep. I got to bed at 1 a.m.

We made it to the airport in plenty of time and sat around for a long time after having traversed what seemed to be about 3 miles worth of airport walkways. Our plane arrived and it was time to board. As we were getting on the plane I noticed something a bit disturbing: the airplane had duct tape all over it. I decided not to tell Tiff about this since she didn't seem to notice.

The airplane was rather small. It was an Embreaer jet, the kind used for island hopping. If you've never seen or been on a jet like this, you probably don't want to be. As you board, the seating column to the right has only one seat in each row and the column to the left only had 2 seats in each row. The storage bins for carry-on luggage were only above the column to the left. In short, it was freakin' cramped.

The flight went pretty well, for the most part. Heck, the pilot only made the plane skip once upon landing. We met Tiff's mom and sister in the airport and made our way back to her place.

The weekend was good. We ate a lot of food. The weekend, like this paragraph, went too quickly. Before we knew it, it was time to come home to New Jersey.

There was no duct tape on the plane that took us home, but at one point, coming into Philadelphia, it felt like the pilot shut off the engines because it started to feel as though we were free-falling. Not a very good feeling to have on a plane. Then, upon landing, we didn't skip, but we definitely came in too fast because the plane lurched horribly when the pilot engaged the air brakes. That probably would have upset the old couple in the row in front of us. As it were, I think landing scared the old guy in front of us because immediately after the bad landing, a raunchy smell wafted around the plane. I think the old guy pooped in his pants because of the landing.

We got home late and went to sleep. After all, I had to go to work in the morning.

5 a.m. I am soundly asleep.

"Andy, wake up."

"Hmmm?"

"I've been awake since 4 throwing up and having contractions. Wake up."

"You've been having contractions?"

"Yes."

Crap.

I got up and she called her doctor who told her to come to the Emergency Room. We got into her car and started to go to the hospital. On the way there, Tiff asked, "Why aren't you speeding?" Technically, I was. I was going 4 miles an hour over the limit. I just didn't want to waste time by getting pulled over. But I sped up anyway.

We got to the hospital at 5:30 and signed her in. She was put in a room and hooked up to a machine that monitors the baby's heartbeat. She got an intraveinous full of something. I stayed with her that day and missed a day of work (December 3). But I did get to walk around the hospital and watch ER twice and Law and Order. They kept her there overnight, and overnight again the next night.

It turns out that she had the flu. She was dehydrated and the virus was irritating her uterus and that is why she was having contractions. I was very glad to hear that it was not pre-term labor. And it was great to be able to hear Kenzie's heartbeat constantly for hours and hours. It was comforting. One thing about that little girl in there, though: she is a trooper. Tiff was lying on the hospital bed looking like death warmed over, but Kenzie's heartbeat was a strong 150 beats per minute and she was kicking and moving around almost the whole time (judging by the 'swooshing' noises emenating from the monitor).

Now Tiff's doctor wants to see her every two weeks just to keep an eye on her. I was very glad that Kenzie was not going to be making a surprise early appearance. Because, as much as I would love to have the tax write-off, I don't want her to come out too early. I want her to come out and give me a high-five. I want her to be perfectly healthy.

With or without that 11th toe.

It's been a while since the last time I've written anything! But then, there's a whole lot to tell now. Last time, the baby wouldn't hold still while the tech was trying to measure the heart. So Tiff had to go back the next week for another ultrasound. That one went well and they got the measurements they needed. The baby looks fine, they said, and is about 13 inches long. And we have a couple of new pictures of the baby, one of which looks like it's sucking its thumb.

It's still kind of amazing that the little person in there was just that little "kidney bean"-looking thing that I had written about some time ago.

The baby has been kicking and punching more and more frequently and with much greater force. I know this because now I can feel the kicks and little punches. And the other night, I felt it turn over. That's right, it turned over. And I felt it. It was weird. There was this little knot in Tiff's tummy and it moved. It was cool, but creepy at the same time! It was like there was a little monster inside!

This past Sunday I hosted a surprise baby shower at my house for Tiff. She hadn't been expecting one, really. Early on in the pregnancy she had convinced herself that she wasn't going to get a shower because she doesn't really know many people here. I had to bite my tongue because one was already being planned! So then in October I got the guest list ready and we were moving along just fine when the person who had been planning it for me said that she could no longer do it. No reason, no explanation. Needless to say, this upset me a bit. But I forged on and planned it myself.

I enlisted the help of two of our best friends, Donnie and Denise, whose help was invaluable. The hardest part was keeping Tiff off-guard and not letting on that something was up. She suspected that a shower was being held, she just had no idea when or where. I "leaked" that it was being planned for December. Then on Friday, 11-15, I took a vacation day to do all of the shopping (I told Tiff that I had been sent home early).

The shower was fun, we had a great time, and the food was excellent. We got a lot of the things on the registry and Tiff had a lot of fun opening all the stuff! We are still eating leftovers, though.

Tiff and I are going to Missouri for Thanksgiving. We will be visiting her family out there till December 2. It will be good to see all of them again. I also now know what the baby's sex is!!! The reason I decided to find out is that since we are going to be in Missouri, I don't want anyone to slip and let me know. If I had to know at all, I wanted Tiff to be able to tell me first. So we are having a GIRL. Kenzie Paige Kovacs is her name. And she loves her Daddy. She'd better!!!

Well, that's what's been going on over here. I'll write more as more developes! Till next time,

-andy

Tiff had another ultrasound today. She got to find out the sex of the baby. I still don't know, and that's a good thing. I don't want to know. I like surprises. I figure that as long as it's healthy and has all the normal number of eyes, digits and toes, I'll be happy. Actually, if it did have 11 toes, I think I'd still be happy. I knew a guy once in college who had 11 toes. He may have been a mutant, but, as I learned by observing him at parties, having 11 toes is a great way to meet girls. Figures I'd be born with only 10.

Anyway, the baby looks normal. They took some measurements but apparently they couldn't finish because the baby wouldn't hold still long enough for them to be able to see. I sat in the waiting room for what seemed like a very long time. The lobby television was set to Regis and Kelly Ripa and I think my IQ dropped a few points from watching the show after what was actually only about 20 minutes, but what felt like a couple of days. Eventually the technician came out to bring me into the room. Thank god. If not for her timely intervention, I'd probably be a vegetable by now.

I sat on a stool at Tiff's feet and she was laying down on the table. The tech started to press the wand onto Tiff's tummy and immediately I saw a spine. There was a spine, a head, a bladder...it was pretty fascinating! Then the tech started saying, "There's one of the thigh bones" but I didn't initially see a thigh bone. It wasn't until the tech moved the wand and pointed out the actual legs that I finally saw what she was pointing at. The legs, to me, were the most fascinating part of the exam. They were moving so fast! It was like they were jumping in place. No wonder the tech couldn't finish the measurements.

When I saw the legs moving like that I started to think: What is the baby doing? Does this mean that it'll be a dancer? Or will it be a runner? Maybe the kid will end up taking karate and kicking it's way to fame and fortune in Hollywood. Who knows? I don't, that's for sure. But finding out will be half the fun of raising this kid.

Also, I think the baby knows that I don't want to know what sex it is. The reason I say this is because when the tech had the baby's legs on the screen, I think I saw a little, tiny hand covering where it's privates would be so I wouldn't see it by accident. See? I told you our child is smart. Now I really have to start working on teaching the baby to give me a High 5! Till next time,

-andy

Well, I have taken to reading to the baby at night before Tiff goes to sleep. I already had a couple Dr. Seuss books, so it was pretty easy to get started (The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham). Then I bought One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish which, as Tiff tells me, is her absolute favorite. It's a good choice, but not one of my favorite. I like the two I already mentioned, plus: Hop on Pop, There's a Wocket in My Pocket, Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now!, The Curse of the Cat In The Ha - oh wait, that one isn't by Dr. Seuss, it's by me - I Can Read With My Eyes Shut and Horton Hatches the Egg. But I won't begrudge her 1F,2F,RF,BF. It is a classic, even if it has very little to do with Fish.

Recently, though, I have started reading the original Winnie-the-Pooh books; Tiff has them all in one soft-cover volume. It's pretty cool. That A.A.Milne guy had quite the dry sense of humor. I think it's funny that Christopher Robin looks like a girl. But I guess that was the style in the early 20th century. Thank God it's not the style now.

Anyway, I have been reading to the baby while it is still inside the womb. I felt a little weird and self-conscious about it at first, but I soon got used to it as it was pretty much just like I was reading to Tiff. Only, instead of reading to her face I was reading to her stomach.

Every now and then while I'm reading, she'll stop me and have me put my hand on her tummy because she says that "it just kicked." Of course, I can never feel it. It probably can't kick all that hard, seeing as it's only 4 months old and, just 3 months ago it looked like a random bunch of cells hanging out together for no good reason. But I keep trying to encourage it to kick harder so I can feel it by saying that "this is the only time in your life that I'm ever going to tell you it's okay to kick your mother, so you'd better take advantage of it." But, being a child who I'm sure thinks it "knows everything," as most kids feel, it feels it doesn't need to listen to me. Kids these days. I tell ya...

Tiff took a spill on the way to work on Monday. She was walking to her car from the house and stepped on the wooden border of the sidewalk. It had been raining that morning and the wood was slippery. She picked herself up and went to work. Her doctor wanted to make sure that there wasn't any damage done so they had her come in later that morning. The doctor also made an appointment for Tiff last night for an ultrasound.

We got to the doctor's office and the technician had Tiff lay down on the examination table. Tiff told the tech why she was there since it wasn't time yet for her next "scheduled" ultrasound. The tech then squirted the jelly onto Tiff and we began.

The first few minutes was just like last time: everything seemed to be just random white dots on a black screen. It was pretty hard to see what was what.

The tech would say stuff like, "Here's the placenta," or "Here's the cervix," the whole time I'm thinking, Great. I'm glad Tiff has a cervix and a placenta, but where's the baby?

"Here's its brain," she said. I couldn't see a brain, I just saw another blob. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it has a brain, and I'm equally as glad that the brain "looks normal," but I wasn't there to see a blob that was supposed to be a brain. I was there to see a blob that is supposed to be our "baby."

It wasn't until the tech started to point things out that I realized what I was looking at. The tech moved the thingy around on Tiff's belly, clicked the keyboard a few times with her free hand, pointed to something on screen and said, "Those are the legs," and let me tell you that is when it all came together for me. The legs were moving. On their own! The legs were moving fast, too. Maybe the kid will grow up to be a track star or a fugitive on the run? I'm open-minded and I'll support the kid in whatever it decides to be when it grows up.

Then the tech started moving the thing around some more and she said, "That's the head." It was weird seeing that. It reminded me of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon where Calvin had been "bombarded by x-rays" and you could see his skeleton, the most noticable part of which was his large, bulbous skull. The baby's skull was equally as huge and surprisingly detailed. You could see the baby's tooth-line and eye holes and the spot where the nose will go.

After some more moving on the tech's part I also saw some ribs, a spine and a little hand (the hand was outstretched as if it were trying to give a high-5). I could barely believe my eyes! There was a little person inside Tiff! I had to stop myself from saying, "Oh my God, there's a kid inside Tiff! How did it get in there?!" I'm sure the tech would have called the nice men in the white jackets with their nets to come take me away.

Finally the tech was finished and she told us that Tiff, the baby, the placenta, and the cervix are all fine and that no damage was caused by Tiff's spill the other morning. The tech wiped the jelly off of Tiff and printed out some pictures for us to keep. The first one looks like the baby is looking right at the "camera." Its eye holes are big and black and the baby looks as if it's saying, "Hey! A little privacy, please?!" It also looks a bit like a generic alien head. You know what I'm referring to: big head, wider at the top, big, black, almond-shaped eyes, little holes for nostrils. It didn't look like it was of this planet...

Hmmm.

The other pictures are profile views of the baby. One picture is of the baby using its little hand to pick its nose (I swear to you this is what it looks like) and the other is a profile shot without the hand.

It was a pretty cool experience watching the baby move around. It's good to know that the baby is no longer just a blob, but a blob taking human form. It was cool to see the little hands, eyeholes, legs and ribs. It was a sobering experience inasmuch as it really drove the "I'm going to be a daddy" thought directly into the Reality Center of the cerebral cortex. I still find it hard to believe that there's a little alien-looking thing growing inside Tiff but I can't wait till it gets here. Just as long as it comes out normally, and not like in the movie, Alien. Till next time,

-andy

I just had a really cool idea!

Tiff has been telling me that the baby can hear us. If it can't hear us now, it will be able to hear us very soon. Tiff has also been telling me that the baby will begin pushing on the inside of her tummy with its hands toward the end of the pregnancy and that we will be able to see the hand push the tummy out (it will look kind of like when the baby alien was trying to get out of its host person in Alien, but without the fatal end result).

What I want to try to do is teach the baby to High 5 while it is still inside Tiff. I think that this would be a pretty cool trick to teach a baby while it's still in the womb. Then, when the baby is out in the delivery room, I will say, "High 5!" and the baby, recognizing my voice, would stick out its hand, expecting a touch in return. I think this is possible. I'll let you know how the lessons go. Till next time,

-andy

Tiff had another doctors appointment yesterday. The purpose of that appointment was so that we could hear the baby's heartbeat. We ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour - almost to the minute - which was interesting. There was a bald, little baby with a huge, bulbous head in the waiting room with his mother. the baby seemed very curious about everything. He would try to sit up, then would look at something or somebody. After a few seconds of astute observation, he would lock sights on something else.

Yours truly was one of the lucky ones observed. I was reading an Entertainment Weekly article on American Idol. Tiff had said something to me so I looked up from reading for a moment. As I was about to start reading again I noticed movement in the periphery of my vision. I glanced over and this little baby was staring at me. It felt kind of odd. It was like my brain was being scanned by some tiny alien. Of all the days to leave my tinfoil hat at home... It was a bit discomfiting. But I'm gettig off my point a bit.

We waited an hour before we were called into the examination room. When we finally got in there it was like I was a little kid in a candy shop. There were so many cool things to play with. For instance, I quickly discovered that the little pivoting lever on the side of the exam table is used to release the back of the table. Then I found these neat cotton swabs in a container. They were quite possibly the largest cotton swabs I have ever seen. I remarked to Tiff that I didn't think they would fit in my ears, but before I could try one out Tiff was almost yelling at me not to. Spoil sport. I tried to get into more mischief, but then the doctor came in.

The doctor was pretty nice. He was just kind of brief. For instance, he asked Tiff some questions and then picked up the instrument that would enable us to finally hear the heartbeat of our child - a moment we have been looking forward to for god knows how long. He put a dollup of jelly on Tiffs tummy and pressed the instrument into the jelly. The doctor let us listen to the heartbeat for approximately 2.3 seconds. After he wiped the jelly off of Tiff, he asked if we had any questions then left.

I know that they say Brevity is the soul of wit, but is brevity now the soul of a doctor's appointment? I mean, we waited for an hour in the stupid waiting room. My brain, with all of my private thoughts, was scanned by some little alien baby. We finally get into the exam room and the doctor comes in, spends less than 5 minutes with us and leaves. I feel cheated. We're paying for this stuff. I came out of the exam room feeling like I'd been scammed.

Here's another reason I feel scammed: What assurance do I have that the heartbeat we heard was actually the baby's? Couldn't it have been Tiff's heartbeat? I know that the babys' would typically be very fast (I clocked the heartbeat we heard at about 150 beats per minute) and that Tiff's would be slower, but, truth be told, I think that Tiff and I were both a little excited by the notion of getting to hear the heartbeat, and I think that that could have elevated Tiff's pulse rate. Right? It isn't totally impossible. :o)

Anyway, I feel scammed. After the questionable ultrasound blobs, and now this, from now on I vow that I will question everything that the doctor or the technician does. I will be on full alert during the next doctor's visit. I will make the doctor earn the money that our insurance company is paying him. But next time I'll be sure to wear my tinfoil hat. Till then,

-andy

It's been a while since I've posted anything to this page. Things are going well with Tiff and Peanut. Oh yeah, and the baby inside of Tiff. Actually, that little thing is now about 4 inches long and it's basically just that: a four-inch long person. Of course, it's skin is transparent, I think. But it's definitely alive and well.

Tiff goes in for her next ultrasound on September 4. The appointment is in the morning, so I will need to take some time off from work in order to be there. :o) This time, I think we will be able to see a better picture of the baby as opposed to what we had seen last time. I don't think we will be able to see what sex it is, but then again, I don't want to know. Tiff wants to know if it's a boy or girl. I'd like to be surprised. I like surprises, just as long as the surprise in question doesn't have anything to do with sexuality or divorce. Surprises are great. Which is why I don't usually ask for things for Christmas anymore. I don't want to know what I'm getting.

Tiff, on the other hand, doesn't like surprises. Take, for example, her birthday this past year. I got her what, in my mind, was the best gift a guy could get anyone: A singing telegram. I bet you didn't even realize they still existed. Well, they do. I ordered her a Man in a Tuxedo. The guy did a bit of a Steve-Martin-Wild-and-Crazy-Guy schtick and sang a few songs. To hear Tiff tell it, she absolutely hated it. I refuse to believe that. I can't see how anyone could hate that.

Did I mention that I sent the telegram to her office and the Steve Martin guy made sure he had everyone's attention before he made her skip around the office with him while wearing a plastic crown? Who wouldn't love that?! Anyway, my point is that surprises are good. They can be a lot of fun. Like if the baby came out dressed in a tuxedo, well, that would be quite a surprise! Till next time,

-andy

So Peanut had his first lesson last night. He did pretty well. Sue, the dog trainer, is trying to get his confidence level up and she is also trying to get his "nose off the ground." Being a hound dog, hee is instinctively trying to track things and this makes for a short attention span. It was pretty funny because as Sue was walking him around the training area, every now and again Peanut would stop and look at me and Tiff who were sitting off to the side.

I was very proud of him. He paid attention and he picked up what she was trying to do very quickly. I hope that our actual kid is as smart as Peanut! Just kidding. I know it will be. :o)

My boy, Peanut, has his first obedience lesson tonight. I really hope that this helps to calm him down. He is such a little punk sometimes!

Thinking about these lessons brings back memories of when my dog, Daisy, was going to lessons. I was in 4th or 5th grade at the time and the lessons were a group lesson. I don't recall where they were held, all I do remember is that I used to go because I used to want to be a veterinarian.

There was always a bunch of folding chairs set up near the entrance of the building, so I would have to sit there. Of course, being a slightly rambunctious kid of no more than 10 years old, I would very rarely sit there.

One night, as the class was in full swing, I started jumping from chair to chair. I miscalculated the jump to one hair and ended up kicking the chair over and landing on the floor on my rear.

The sound of the metal chair crashing onto the floor stopped the class and my mother, not missing a beat, looked up from Daisy, shook her head, and yelled, "Andrew: SIT!"

The class started laughing because they though it was pretty funny. I didn't think so.

Tiff has another doctor's appointment today. She's not going to have another ultrasound done for a little while, so I don't know what this visit will entail. I do know, however, that we are now about 10 weeks into the pregnancy and Tiff is doing well. She can eat now, a little better than in recent weeks. She has been keeping things down more often. She also hasn't been as queasy in the mornings or during and after meals. This is a good thing because this is an excerpt from a typical conversation during dinner:

She: I can't finish this.
Me: Why not?
She: I'm feeling sick.
Me: Again?
She: Yeah. Will you finish this for me?
Me: Why don't we wrap it for you for tomorrow?
She: It's making me sick. Throw it out if you're not going to eat it.
(I look to find that she's only eaten two or three bites. Literally.)
Me: Okay, I'll finish it.

Anyway, I am thinking about getting a second job. Not because we really need the money, although it would be extra money we could put away for house savings and for the baby, and that is always good. We also have some extra bills from her former insurance company and Dr. Death, but a second job would also to help get me out of the way of the Hormones.

I love Tiff, more than she even realizes, and Tiff has been really good so far; the Hormones haven't really gotten the better of her, or me, for that matter. But I know that there will be a time when the Hormones will break loose and wreak havoc on whomever happens to be within a 100 foot radius of her. :o)

The second job wouldn't be for long, maybe a couple of months until we pay off the medical stuff, Peanut's obedience (!) training, and my mentoring fee. And I feel it would be good for me to return to my roots: the shopping mall. The mall is where I worked all during college. I have some fond memories from there, as well as some horrible ones.

The mall is where I always felt I would return, if only for a little while. I liken my inevitable return to the great journey of the noble elephant: the elephant will eventually make its way to the mysterious place where they all go to die (that is, if they aren't poached). The difference being that nobody knows where the elephants go. I am going to the mall (I am also in perfect health, so don't get worried, you worriers). Till next time,

-andy

We have reached week 9 of Tiff's pregnancy and, according to the Mother of All Pregnancy Books, the baby is about 1.5 - 2.0 inches long and will start moving on its own very soon. Tiff won't be able to feel the movements for another couple of weeks, though.

We have gone clothes shopping a few times in the past couple of weeks; we've gone maternity-clothes shopping. It's amazingly tough to find affordable clothes that she can wear to work. It's even harder for me to stay awake while we're shopping. For some reason when we walk into a maternity store or a maternity section of a store, I cannot for the life of me keep my eyes open. It's as if something is sucking all my energy, sucking the life from me. I can't focus, my eyes cross and I start to yawn incessantly. I don't know what it is. Of course, as soon as we leave the section or the store, I am fine. It's like I've slept all day and have just woken up.

I submit to you (my high school physics teacher, Mr. Kota, used to say that a lot. that and, "will you guys shut up?!"):

A few weekends ago, Tiff took me to WalMart, Target and Mimi's Maternity. My feet dragged, my sleeves were soaked with the tears of my ever-more-frequent yawns, and if it weren't for the shopping cart that she made me push, I would have fallen over into a rack of maternity-style "unmentionables." Then we left to go home. As soon as we got home I wanted to go out again. I wanted to go to Borders book store. I wanted to go to a movie. Heck, I would have gone out maternity shopping again!

Then last week we went for her ultrasound. I wasn't sleeping during that, but I was starting to get tired. After the ultrasound we went to put her on a registry. I was instantly awake once we walked into the store. I think it had to do with the fact that I knew we weren't clothes shopping, the toys and my irritation with the stupid kid behind the counter at the registry. Here's an excerpt of the exchange that took place between he and my wife:

Tiff: Hi, I need to sign up for the baby registry.
Clerk: I'm sorry, I don't know what that is.
Tiff: I was told the registry is at the jewelry counter. Is it here?
Clerk: Oh, do you want to find someone's registry?
Tiff: No, I want to sign up for one.
Clerk: Do you know the person's name?
Tiff: I want to start a gift registry.
Clerk: Oh, okay. It's this thing. I don't really know how to use it, but you can just follow the instructions on the screen.
[Clerk leaves]
Me: Dumb [expletive].

We figured it out, of course. You don't need to be a college graduate (or a young, male WalMart employee whose IQ can be represented using only one hand), to be able to figure out how to use the gift registry, but the situation still made me laugh.

I know it'll get better. I know I'll stop falling asleep while we're clothes shopping eventually. Right now, though, I am really getting psyched for the next ultrasound so I can see how the computer gets the random dots to resemble a baby. Till then,

-andy

I picked Peanut up from the animal hospital last night at around 7:00. He was still very groggy and couldn't stand for very long at all. When I would put him on the floor he would just lay there and look at me as if thinking, "What did you have done to me, Dad?"

As if I wasn't feeling bad enough.

We took him out of his crate again after Tiff and I got home from dinner and he just lay there on the floor for a long time. Eventually he got up and started trying to walk. The first couple of times he fell over and whined and cried. Then he got his legs under him and began walking.

Peanut walked into my roommate Shawn's room and stood by the door. You know what that means. I thought it was odd, though, that he would go to Shawn's room because Peanut usually only uses the door in the kitchen to go outside. Anyway, I wanted to put him on his leash so I went to search for his leash and collar. I found it in my room and went back to find Peanut...

...who had shit all over Shawn's floor! That's my boy!

I put his collar on him and attached his leash, then carried him outside so he could pee. I let him walk around for a few minutes after that then I brought him back in and put him in his crate for the night.

It was kind of nice, having him be calm and quiet all of last night. I would like it to last, but I know it won't. This morning, for example, he bounded out of his crate as if the day before never happened. Of course, when he reached the first step down into the kitchen, he yelped because I guess he overestimated how good he was feeling. That ought to teach him, the little booger.

It's good to see Peanut feeling a little better because now I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday. I just wish I had some pain killers to give him to help the pain and to, well, knock him out for a few more days!

-andy

I feel terrible.

I took my dog, Peanut, to the vet this morning. He was extremely happy to have been going on a walk with his dad. He couldn't wait to see where he was going! We walked into the animal hospital and the doctor was in the lobby as was Sue, the dog trainer. Peanut is familiar with both and, boy was his tail wagging!

Sue took off Peanut's collar and handed it to me along with his leash. She looped a rope leash around his neck and started to lead him to the back of the hospital as I started to leave. He looked back at me just as I was turning to leave and I heard him whimper as if wondering why I wasn't coming along and asking if he could go with me.

I feel bad because I can't help but feel that he thinks that I abandoned him in the animal hospital and I feel even worse because, even though I know I'm going to pick him up at 6:30 tonight, he wasn't entirely aware of why he was in the animal hospital this morning. He doesn't know that he is getting fixed. He's five months old. He's almost like a son to me; a tiny, hairy, hyperactive, son with a tail and big ears. His manhood (doghood?) is gone by now. Poor, poor Peanut. But it is for the greater good.

I hate it when I over-anthropomorphize animals.

-andy

My roommate's computer was down last night so I couldn't post the UltraSound findings. Sorry 'bout that, Chief.

Anyway, we got home last night at about 6 pm. Tiff immediately called her grandmother and I called my sister. Then Tiff called her mom and my mom and I called my friends Michele and Tracey. We had the best news ever:

We are having ONE baby!

This is great news, folks. This means that, for the people who know me well, there will only be ONE of my offspring running around.

;o)

It also means that I won't have to work three jobs in addition to prostituting myself on weekends to afford the kids. I can't tell you how relieved I was when I saw that one, single, uno, solitary, lonesome, little blob on the ultrasound screen.

For your information, Tiff is registered at Babies R Us and Wal*Mart. If you do go to Wal*Mart, good luck finding what's on the list because we looked at the printout and it's hard to tell what's what!

Till next time,

-andy

Today we find out how many kids we'll be having.
My lucky number was always 13, but somehow I doubt we'll be having that many.
The ultrasound appointment is at 5pm so I will be leaving work at 3.
I'll post again after I get home from the ultrasound.
Till then,

-andy

Tiff has been nauseus all day today. She went to sleep last night at 7pm (she didn't even stay up for the 2nd Simpsons episode!). She made it all the way to about 9pm tonight. I hope she is okay, but time will tell. She called her doctor who said that as long as she isn't spotting, everything should be okay. We will find out more on Tuesday evening.

That's pretty much all there is to tell right now. Nothing has really changed. So I figured that I'd tell another story.

Did you ever notice how, when someone is talking to you you can almost anticipate what they are going to say? Even stranger, do you find that you can not only anticipate, but you can think of a few replies to what is being said prior to it being said, depending upon what you think is going to be said?

The fact of the matter is that you think much faster than you speak. This is so you can think twice before speaking, a luxury most people don't take advantage of.

This is another story about not being able to say the right thing. The only thing is that it's quite the same as last night's story, but a different question was asked and a different answer was given. The reaction was exactly the same on both her part and mine, but the answer is one that will make you go, "D'oh!" Here we go:

Same scenario: I was trying to get to sleep, Tiff was talking.
Same topics: "What if I...?"
Same answers: "Yes", "I will", "Don't worry", and on and on.

Tiff then asks me, "What if you find a pretty little 20 year old girl and you leave me with the kids to go live with her?"

"I wouldn't do that," I said, "I'd take the kids with me."

Okay, I admit that it wasn't the most politic thing I could have said. It wasn't the most sensitive thing I could have said by a long shot. But then, I wasn't thinking. I was half asleep. She laughed about it, though...eventually.

Recently, I have made a concerted effort to stay awake longer at night so she can't trap me like that anymore. It has been a little easier with her going to bed so early. ;o)

Till next time,

-andy

Sometimes knowing the right thing to say is tough. It's even tougher when you don't know what you're saying. Here's the situation:

A number of weeks ago, Tiff and I were in bed trying to get to sleep. Actually, I was trying to get to sleep. She was talking:

"Will you love me even when I'm old and wrinkly?"
"Will you love me if I become quadriplegic?"
"Will you love me if ...?"
You get the idea, I'm sure.

It was getting late, you see, and yours truly was very tired - having worked all day behind a desk, expending all of 14 whole calories - and I wasn't thinking clearly. I was falling asleep because a couple times Tiff had elbowed me in the chest and asked, quite offended, "Are you sleeping?"

"No, no I wasn't. I'm...awake...snoring..."

Then came THE question: "Baby? What if you decide that you want to leave me for a young, pretty girl?"
"I don't need a pretty girl," was my reply. As soon as I said it, just a microsecond before the elbow hit, my eyes shot open. My mind reeled, trying to recall what the HELL had I just said?!

Then the elbow hit, knocking the breath out of me and causing my eyes to cross.

Pajamas: $20
Goofy Slippers: $25
Comforter set: $60
The look on her face: Priceless.
There are some things money can't buy.

I started cracking up because her face was deep red. But here's the funny thing: she was laughing, too. She must have realized that I was half asleep and wasn't thinking and therefore it wasn't really fair to ask me a question like that when 9 out of 10 doctors would classify me as scientifically asleep.

I never was good at finding the right thing to say.

:o)

Well, that's all. nothing really new on the baby-front. I just wanted to post something tonight. Till next time,

-andy

Well Tiff is now feeling nauseus almost all the time. It's hard for her to eat anything. She says that the only thing she can eat without feeling sick is stuff that's salty.

Case in point - we went to Chili's the other night (i wanted the baby back ribs, but i was feeling cheap so i opted for the chicken strips) and she ate some of the nachos they bring out. then our dinners came and she had two bites - literally - of her main course and three bites of mashed potato(e)s and stopped.

She has been reading a book called The Mother of All Pregnancy Books. it is a pretty informative book. She said that she was reading it and that how she is feeling could be a telltale sign of a girl. She said this is because she is producing a hormone that the baby girl would also produce and the pains and nausea that she has been feeling would feel worse than normal, which is exactly how she says she is feeling. so, this could be true.

Then she said she was reading the book today and it said that symptoms such as hers could be due to twins (or multiples). i wish the book would make up its mind! If it is multiples, however, I did promise her that I would not refer to her as a "hippopotamus with a gland problem."

Well, we'll find out next tuesday, actually, how many and what sex, even though i don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl. she does.

Till then,

-andy

A few weeks ago my wife went to the doctor to get blood drawn. She had been on Clomid (sp?) for a month. A few days after her blood was drawn she called the doctor for results and found out that she wasn't pregnant. She was upset and so was I. That weekend we spent at my parents' house. Tiff went tanning on saturday and on Sunday we had gone to get Sushi with my older sister and younger siblings. Tiff had tried some raw salmon.

Anyway, that night she started getting Ill and stayed home the next day. While she was sitting there on the couch feeling terrible, she received a call from her doctor. He asked if she "felt pregnant." She said she didn't know. But that's what got this ball rolling.

That night we went around town trying to find a home pregnancy test that gives you a '+' if you are and a '-' if you aren't. We couldn't find it so we decided to go home and try again some other night. A couple of nights later, the night before she was scheduled to fly to Missouri to visit family, we bought a test. I was watching TV, a typical guy thing to do while his wife is trying to find out if she's pregnant or trying to solve world hunger.

Tiff came bounding out of the bathroom like a psychotic Beagle with a huge smile on her face. "I'm pregnant!" is all she could say before she dove on top of me and tried to squeeze the life out of me. "That's great!" was my reply.

I really am happy about the pregnancy. I just want to know how many babies we are having. You see, Clomid is a fertility drug. According to her doctor, women who take the drug have an 85% chance of having twins because each time a woman takes a pill, it makes her body ovulate. There is a 10% chance of having 1 child and about a 5% chance of having three or more. Two kids would be fine, but twins also run in Tiff's family. Therefore, if she conceived twice on different eggs and one of the eggs is a natural twin, we could be looking at three kids. That would be interesting.

I will keep you all posted on the happenings in AndyLand. Tiff has her first ultrasound a week from today and that is when we find out exactly how many little munchkins we will be having. Updates as events warrant! Till then,

-andy