This hasn’t been a very funny week on Fatherhoody by any means… sorry for those that are coming here looking for a dose of dry humor.  I don’t have any for you today (dry humor), but I do have a couple YouTube videos that will blow your mind.

Linky: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PD5HfM3DZt8 

Thank you and God Bless Keyboard Cat.

1. Someone got to Fatherhoody by googling “Pictures of Anorexic Women”.  I don’t have any pictures here of anorexic women.  However, it made me think about the person doing the Googling.  They were either searching for a project or perhaps they were searching to compare.  That’s something Stunning talked about… Anorexia is not defined by how much you weigh.  Most anorexic girls will get to very unhealthy weights, however, even when they’re at 130 pounds – they’re still anorexic.

Therefore, to someone looking for a picture of an anorexic girl… perhaps trying to compare yourself to her to see if you’re skinnier or heavier or whatever… it doesn’t work that way.  It’s about your attitude about losing weight and your attitude about eating. 

2. This wasn’t the easiest thing for my wife to do… write all of this stuff out.  Therefore, I’d like to take just a moment to say thank you to her.  As I said in Monday’s post, part of me believed her experience with this disease would have a positive impact on others.  Some days that thought was the pervasive one in my head.  I hope these past few days impacted someone in the positive.  Even if you’re not struggling with an eating disorder, you might be struggling with something else… I urge you to talk about it.  You don’t know the positive impact you could have on another person.  I am so proud of my wife this week for the courage she had to do this.

3. 90% of people with eating disorders are women.  I sometimes think about the 10% that are men.  For a disease that carries a stigma like it does for women, imagine going through it as a guy.  We also think of this disease affecting college age girls (at least I do), but 40% of cases are in women 15 to 19 years old.  How sad that at a young age of 15 someone would have to go through this.

4. 40% of 9- and 10-year-old girls are already trying to lose weight.

5. Females with anorexia nervosa have a higher suicide rate than those with any other mental health disorder and the general population up to 60 times higher according to one study!  You think it doesn’t affect a person?!?

6. Get help.  If you think you might have an eating disorder… then more than likely you do…  Get help now before it becomes too late.  A registered dietician can run $80 per visit, but it’s worth the money.  Most health insurers cover 20 to 30 visits to a counselor per year, so don’t delay.  This will affect your life and it will affect every life around you.  The question is… is you being skinny worth ruining relationships?  My wife and I were lucky, we made it through… but not everyone can nor will be that lucky.

At first, I played a good husband and got excited when my wife lost weight.  It’s what she wanted.  In fact, there was a time where she would refer to her former self as “fat”.  I never liked to do that, because she wasn’t fat then and she wasn’t fat now.  Thinking back on this now makes me so incredibly sad.  However, she once convinced me that it made her feel better if I were to tell her that she used to be fat.  It’s not like we talked about it a lot, but I stopped arguing with her when she called herself fat when looking at old pictures.  It’s amazing how it just kind of wraps around your finger. 

There was something strange happening though and it was just one of the many clues that I had, but I never put all the pieces together.  Her goal weights were getting progressively lower.  When she first Weight Watchers, the goal weight was 130.  Then it became 125 and then 120.  I remember she would come home after weighing in upset.  Why?  Because the ladies at meetings were rude to her.  They told her she shouldn’t lose anymore weight because it was unhealthy.  Of course, she said she “wasn’t doing anything unhealthy”, so it was natural.  Eventually, she dropped out of Weight Watchers, because they wouldn’t let her lose anymore weight.

The goal weights were getting even lower.  It became 118.  When she finally went into treatment, her goal weight was 102. 

Here’s the deal about the goal weights.  They were the stopping points.  It was, “When I reach XXX pounds, I’ll be happy with my body and I’ll stop dieting.”  Of course, it never happened.  When she reached the goal weight, a new weight was almost within the grasp. 

I don’t want to sound dense here.  I knew there was a problem.  I would bring it up, but would get quickly shot down.  I was being ridiculous.  I don’t think it ever mattered what I thought.  If I had told her months before she started treatment that she needed it, it wouldn’t have worked.  She didn’t go to treatment until she was ready for it.  Of course, things had to get bad, before she was ever going to realize treatment was necessary.  Unfortunately, things did get bad for awhile…

Her Words:

Over the course of the previous few years, people had seen my weight loss and complimented me on how good I looked. At a certain point, people stopped mentioning it—this was just the new me…there was no point in them constantly asking me, “Have you lost weight?” I think maybe I missed the attention or I missed seeing the number on the scale go down every week…so I decided that I could stand to lose a few more pounds. I can honestly tell you that I have no idea how the spiral started; I don’t ever remember thinking, “I’m going to be tiny.” I think that I just wasn’t ready to see the number stay stagnant.

And so it began…I remember watching some effed up episode of Oprah where she had famous super models on talking about how they stayed in shape.  One of them said that she got on the scale every morning and if the number had gone up by even a pound, she wore her tightest jeans to remind herself all day to eat healthy. WTF??? Seriously! Who thought that was a good thing to air on television? It pisses me off so much right now just to remember it.  It clearly didn’t piss me off at the time though because after I saw that, I would wake up every morning and weigh myself. If that number had gone up at all, I knew I had to restrict my caloric intake. It started out with little things like a smaller portion at dinner. By the time I was really “in my eating disorder”, a higher number meant eating nothing coffee, a lean cuisine for lunch, and a chicken breast with carrots for dinner. But here’s the thing: I was still eating…so I couldn’t have an eating disorder, right? I was 100% convinced that what I was doing was nothing more than what skinny girls did—this was normal behavior for anyone who was thin. All women in the world did this.  It’s also important to note that that number on the scale dictated whether I was allowed to be happy or sad that day. If the number was the same as the day before, well that was pretty unremarkable. If it was higher, I restricted and was depressed all day—I was a failure. If it was lower, well…if it was lower I was a champion! And of course I wanted to restrict MORE so that I could feel this sense of accomplishment again tomorrow. You’re probably reading this thinking, “Molly, your weight fluctuates on a daily basis based on all sorts of things. It could have just been that you had more water weight that day.” Um, yeah. Logic wasn’t really winning out here. But again, Oprah’s little model told me that this was an okay thing to do.

Just for the record, John worked really weird hours so we rarely ate meals together and he truly had no idea none of this was going on. He knew that I was skinny and that I always talked about how fat I was…but he was more concerned that I had body dysmorphic disorder than that I had an eating disorder. He, too, figured that since I ate, there wasn’t any way I could be anorexic. Plus, I wasn’t puking so bulimia was out of the question. He wasn’t wrong, by the way. I think that all women and men that struggle with EDs have some sort of BDD—they have to: they are skinny skinny yet they continue this weight loss because we look in the mirror and TRULY see something different than what you see. One time I pointed to a girl in the mall and said, “I wish I was as thin as her.” He just grabbed my hand and said, “Are you serious? You’re like 2 full sizes smaller than her!” I just laughed—who did he think he was kidding?

So here’s the thing I was someone would have told me: just because you eat (even if you eat burgers and fries) does not mean that you don’t have an eating disorder. Every once in a while, John and I would go to Red Robin and I’d get a huge cheeseburger and eat like 2 baskets of fries. Every time I went out to dinner with friends, I could always convince myself to order regular food. Anytime I came home for holidays, I had no trouble (aside from the guilt) eating just like everyone else. CLEARLY, I didn’t have an eating disorder. Nobody with an eating disorder would eat like that.  What I chose to ignore was that for the next few days, I would restrict my food intake to make up for that “indiscretion.” It started with me skipping breakfast. Then it evolved into just eating really healthy. Finally, even at the core of my ED, I’d still eat a cheeseburger and fries but the next couple days would be 0-400 calorie intake days.  But it’s not like I wasn’t eating…I was just eating things with little to no calories: steamed veggies, salads with lemon juice for dressing…so it’s not like my friends and family were stupid and just ignored me not eating. I WAS eating—I just learned WHAT to eat that didn’t have any calories (or nutrition, for that matter). I also had learned how to make very similar meals without calories. Where John would have butter on his bread, I would have “I can’t believe it’s not butter.” Where John would have potatoes, I would have steamed broccoli. Where John would have cheese, I would say, “I don’t like it like that.” I was eating and I refuse to let anyone say that my family was stupid for missing it—I hid it well. I was a good anorexic. The main tipoff that, in retrospect, they should have noticed was the giant bags under my eyes, the constant tiredness, the depression…but they didn’t. I was in law school: all of those things come hand in hand with getting a JD. If John was worried about me falling asleep at 8 pm, it was because I’d been studying hard all day. I was depressed because I hated studying all the time…there were excuses galore—and very valid ones at that.

I mentioned yesterday that I thought anorexia was more of an addiction than anything else.  I think this is a good description for it.  If you asked me if there was an “AHA!” moment where I realized my wife had a problem, I would tell you no.  It was more of a realization across many months.  When she started losing weight, it did become an obsession.  There was one summer I think she could have been diagnosed with exercise bulimia.  However, things would come and go and when I thought there was a problem it would disappear. 

Therefore, I think I always knew there could be a problem, but I don’t think I ever saw the problem develop in the way it was actually there.  It’s like seeing your child grow six inches.  You don’t really see it happen, because you see the kid every day.  However, if you were to look at one picture next to another, it would be very evident.  I think that’s where it was.  She slowly widdled away things she was allowed to do, allowed to eat, not allowed to do/eat.  I saw the slow progression, knew something was happening, but never could see the “forest for the trees”.  Anyway, the following are her words:

It’s embarrassing, first of all. It’s completely embarrassing to me that I let myself get so wrapped up in something as trivial as my appearance that I let it hurt me and my husband so very much. It’s embarrassing that I hold myself out to be this strong, independent woman and that I let a stupid number on a scale dictate my life for so long. There are people out there with REAL problems—cancer, infertility, financial troubles, AIDs—and I am worried about being skinny? I focused my days on whether I was the skinniest person in the room and if I wasn’t, I was a failure (and by the way, I could NEVER always be the skinniest person in the room. So that was a good yardstick for success. Way to set yourself up for disappointment.) It’s truly embarrassing. But if I have learned one thing in recovery, it is that I am far from alone in this. I am a statistic. So many people struggle with this issue and I thought that maybe if I made my story known, other people would realize that they (or someone they know) have a problem and can fix it before it gets unfixable.

For the record, I know that to someone who has never struggled with this, eating disorders seem extremely selfish. I’m not disagreeing with you. Prior to developing one myself, I always thought that people with eating disorders were selfish and that all they would have to do is start eating. Yes, at their core, eating disorders are selfish—they are about control and being the best and worrying about yourself and your looks more than anything else. But they are NOT as easy as “just eat.” You would never think that treating alcoholism is as easy as “just stop drinking” so I’m not sure why people think that it is that easy with eating disorders. So forgive me for being so slow in my recovery—but it was hard.

The Beginning 

So I guess I’ll start from the beginning? I was a nice chunkster in High School. Not a big old fatty but I had some girth to me. It was my own fault: I ate french fries and cheese sticks for lunch every.single.day. I had breakfast tacos multiple times a week and ate a ton at one sitting for dinner. I was just unhealthy. When I went away to college, I remained unhealthy…college food sucked and the only thing I liked in the cafeteria was grilled cheese and french fries…for every meal.

Then, for some reason, I decided I wanted to lose weight. My mom and I started Weight Watchers. For the record, I think Weight Watchers is a FANTASTIC program that really focuses on healthy weight loss. I did, in fact, lose a healthy amount of weight and at the point where I reached a healthy weight, they told me to stop losing weight. I just didn’t listen. So anyway, over the course of 1-2 years (junior & senior year of college), I lost about 40 pounds and was really feeling good about myself.

Then that sweet, baby-face boy proposed to me. And I decided that I wanted to lose just a couple more pounds before the wedding. I remember counting calories very closely but I never went without eating—I just ate as healthy as I could. For the most part, I was just in shape that day.

I had spent the summer working out with a trainer so that I’d be nice and toned on my wedding day. I look at that picture now and I remember how proud I was of how I looked: I had worked hard and I finally felt really, really pretty. If only I could have frozen that moment in time and left it at that.

…no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it…
                                              -Ephesians 5:29

It’s National Eating Disorder Week.  My wife wanted to share some of her stories and experiences to raise awareness.  She wrote four posts, but after finishing them she decided she didn’t want you to see them.  Scared that the posts would come across selfish, place her family in a bad light, and share details of her life that she worked so hard to keep private, she thought it might be better not to tell the story.

For a long time, as she struggled with her eating disorder, I asked myself why it was happening.  Why was it happening to her?  To me?  To us?  It didn’t quite seem fair that a couple that had been only married for 12 months would be forced to go through something so strange and difficult.

I came to one conclusion of why God would let it happen.  I always thought that maybe he didn’t prevent Stunning (he never afflicts) from getting it so that she could tell her story and hopefully prevent others from feeling these same terrible things.  Therefore, I was excited when she was writing and worried when she said she wasn’t going to post them.  For that reason, I decided to post first.  Hers are all written, so I’ll probably mix and match some stuff here throughout the course of the week.

The best way I can explain anorexia for people is that it’s a disease where the person is addicted to losing weight.  The eating (or lack thereof) is only secondary to the main goal of losing weight.  Therefore, an anorexic will eat, but they will do so in a way that feeds their addiction.  When the scale reads a weight lower than yesterday, it’s a success.  Eating, working out, restricting, not eating – all feeds the addiction.

As anyone who knows someone with an addiction, it’s difficult for them to listen to reason.  Try to reason with an alcoholic about how it’s the alcohol.  Tell a gambling addict that the bets are ruining their life.  They’ll all find excuses, stories, reasons around their addiction, and unless they’re ready, they’ll refuse that they have a problem… even if it’s all too clear to everyone else in the world.  This is where I was with Molly as she entered into recovery.  I knew there was a problem.  I didn’t know what it was, but however I reasoned with her, there was always a way around it.  It usually ended with complete refusal. 

She’s much better now than she was just two years ago.  She’s an amazing woman.  She’s absolutely stunning.  Yes, even pregnant!  However, there are still struggles with it and I think there always will be to some degree.  Please listen to her words and please forward them to anyone you think might have a problem.  It might just save their life.

When we were kids, my sister and I both had a great idea.  YOU CAN TAKE A PICTURE OF YOURSELF BY USING A MIRROR!!!  While, I don’t have the proof to show you, neither of our pictures turned out.  The flash gets in the way. Damn flash.

Anyway, sometimes I think back on that and laugh to myself.  I know my sister does the same.
Therefore, imagine my surprise when I opened up my camera folder and found these pictures.


Sorry honey… it just doesn’t work.  Trust me.  I’ve tried.

I only cook once in a great while… so when I do I like to go all out.  I think I’m decent enough that with a recipe, I could make most anything.  I would cook more, but I don’t have much of an imagination to come up with something to eat every night and Stunning enjoys making dinner, so I usually leave it up to her.  However, we’re in an effort to save money right now, because we are a) poor b) about to have a baby and c) have a ton of student debt.  Therefore, for Valentine’s Day, I decided I was going to make her dinner. 

Here’s the menu:
Insalate: Arugula Salad with Shavings of Porcini Mushroom & Parmigiano-Reggiano
Entree: ORECCHIETTE WITH CHERRY TOMATOES AND ARUGULA
Side #1: Asparagus Gratin with Parmigiano-Reggiano Cheese
Side #2: Steamed Broccoli with Oil and Garlic
 
Dessert: Baked Apple with Chocolate
I had a grand plan to take pictures of what I was doing and do a little “cooking” post.  However, when I cook it’s pretty close to World War 3 in the kitchen with the chaos happening.  I’m not practiced enough to figure out the timing of multiple dishes, so it always seems about 5 things all have to happen within 10 seconds or dinner will be ruined. 

I was reminded to take pictures by my wife who was sitting on the coach smiling at me running around in a fashion that I think would be similar to moments after the soldiers of the Alamo found out the Mexicans were on the way.  Anyway, I did get some pictures, but they’re random because keeping the house from burning down was number one on the priority list, not taking pictures.

However, I want you to feel like you’re on a cooking blog.  These are all the pictures I took…. therefore, based only on the pictures I have, I will explain to you how to get the final product.

(Get a ton of arugula.)

( wash it, mix with homemade salad dressing, put cheese all over it, and cut in some mushrooms.)

(put it on a plate)

(Cut a ton of cherry tomatoes)

(heat up some oil)

(boil some pasta)

(add tomatoes to the oil and let them simmer for a bit)

(mix it altogether and stir with spatula)

(cover some cooked asparagus with a ton of parmesan cheese and broil it)

(take it out of the oven)

(cut up some broccoli and put it in a pan with some water and other stuff, cover)

(uncover… oh ya… put some crushed red pepper on it)

(cut out the core of an apple, stick some butter in it, and some cinnamon sticks, put it in an oven pan)

(take it out of the oven)

(drizzle dark chocolate on it)

Yesterday’s post was a bit philosophical and honestly, I’m not even quite sure what I was talking about.  Today’s post will hopefully be a bit simpler. 

Here’s the deal, inside my wife’s stomach is another human being that is squirming around, kicking her bladder, punching her stomach, and making her life less than enjoyable.  I’ve never seen this human being before.  The only thing I’ve done is see his movement, look at his skeletor frame in the ultrasound, and hear his whooshing heart beat. 

Last week, I got to meet some family freinds’ new baby.  He was born last week and in a picture of his dad from when his dad was a newborn, they look exactly the same.  It really got me wondering what is Junior going to look like.  Therefore, I went back to the vaults.

If he’s anything like me, he’ll be born at a relatively normal size:

(That’s me in the baby crib thing and my Dad behind me, lest you be confused.)

(gaining a little weight)

(gaining more weight)

(fat)

(fudge-cicle disaster)

(Not quite as fat)

(still got a belly)

(a good weight to height ratio)

(gotta love the 1980s and the striped tube socks)

I’ve come to realize that because of my existence, there’s going to be another human being in the world.  Part of me looks at all of the other human beings in the world and thinks it’s not that big of a deal.  Look at a crowded stadium and all those people were crammed into some woman’s stomach at some point.  Quite a few of them (unfortunately, probably not all of them) had whimsical fathers that pondered the existence they were creating.  They’ll all go on, maybe have more babies that they create, and this big rock will continue to spin.  That’s one of my inner monologues.

The other inner monologue gives me an entirely different perspective.  This one looks at that stadium full of people and each person is unique and a product somehow of their upbringing.  Each person there was crammed into the tummy of a woman, but then they were set free.  That freedom is the masterpiece God designed for us.   God’s interjection in this world is the reason that it’s an amazingly big deal to have Junior squirming around in his Mom’s stomach.  To have a kid that will eventually mimic what I do.  A child that I’ll teach how to play catch, drive a car, and give financial advice to. 

It’s an amazing thing, isn’t it?  When I’m flying, I can look from the airplane down at the world and it all looks so well-organized and peaceful.  There’s not a noise the reaches the plane and even flying over a big city is beautiful.  If you go down to the surface, you see the worst of the worst this world has to offer.  In this situation, in this pondering in my head, it’s the opposite.  From the stadium view, every person is identical and does not matter.  However, up close, each person is unique and a product of the ones that brought them into this world. 

I can’t wait.

I know… I know… I just talked about baseball on Friday.  If you can’t tell though, I’m pretty excited that a) many of the Cardinals pitchers are already in Jupiter (not the planet – Jupiter, Florida) and b) the date for them to actually report is this week.  By the time opening day arrives, I’ll have run out of baseball topics.  (By the time opening day gets here, I’ll have a kid… WEIRD!!!)

I wanted to bring up a little strange enigma within my family.  As mentioned previously, the Cardinals are my favorite team.  They’re my favorite team because they’re my dad’s favorite team. They’re my dad’s favorite team because… he wanted to be different.  In truth, and I will admit it here, I actually come from a line of Cub fans.  Cubs versus Cardinals is the rivalry everyone forgets about.  ESPN is too concerned with the Red Sox v. Yankees (Actually the Red Sox v anyone and the Yankees v Anyone… it’s pretty ridiculous..) and I think the Cubs/Cardinals rivalry gets lost in the hubbub of the big media markets on the coast.

You see, Cardinal fans love making things like this:




While Cub fans enjoy making things like this:


Honestly though, I’m not gonna lie to say I’m not the best Cardinals fan.  Mainly because I root for the Cubs in certain situations.  Most of that has to do with the fact that my Uncle John is another big reason for my extreme interest in baseball.  Even though he despises the Cardinals, he would always take me to games as a kid. 

Then when the Cubs were in the playoffs (remember that time in the 1990s?), Uncle John took me to Wrigley Field for game 3 of the NLDS.  You haven’t really experienced baseball until your at Wrigley Field during a playoff game.  It happens rarely enough, I can say that.  
So while my Grandpa (on the right)
And my Grandma:
Raised my Uncle to love the Cubs. My Dad became a Cardinals fan
And so did I…
…but with my Grandma being born a long time ago and knowing she’s never experienced a World Series victory and know my Uncle watches almost every game of the Cubs season, there’s always going to be a part of my DNA pulling for the Cubs.

Guest Post From the Wife:

Ronald Reagan once quipped, “Republicans believe every day is the Fourth of July, but the Democrats believe every day is April 15.” I see what he was trying to get at…but Ronny, I’m a member of the GOP and I don’t see why it’s so bad that every day is April 15.  The closer we are to April 15, the more of these little cuties we get to see:

You only need to watch the first 20 seconds or so to get the point: it’s one of those guys who holds the signs for Liberty Tax Services and grooves for the cars passing by.  You may be wondering why I’m posting a video of this—well folks, it’s a well-known fact about Molly: I LOVE DANCING ADVERTISERS!!!

“How did this all start?” you ask? When I was in college, I would drive down Cuming Street everyday on my way to class. It was 7 am and I was tired. In January, 2 men suddenly started showing up on my drive: Uncle Sam and a cross-dressing Lady Liberty. There they were in the frigid cold and snow dancing and having a wonderful time. I’m not talking dancing like this guy above. They were GETTING DOWN!!!!

I started thinking, “They have to be miserable and yet they are just exuding joy. I need to be more like that.” So every morning as I passed them, I got a little smile on my face that they were so happy and it served as a reminder to me to cheer myself up…yes, it was 7 am but I was headed to school to get a good college education…a college education that I wasn’t even paying for…why was I so miserable about this? As the days and weeks went on, it evolved into me waving at them. Then I’d laugh a bit because they recognized my car and would generally dance even MORE as they saw the dark blue Taurus coming their way. So, of course, I had to dance back a little. And it just turned into this absolute, uncontainable, dancing-in-the-driver’s-seat joy when I saw them.

Yes, it began with my love for the Liberty Tax Dancers but it has evolved into ANYONE dancing while holding a sign…dominoes pizza dancers, jiffy lube groovers, mattress firm rockin’ mattresses. I love them all. I am not sure why something so simple makes me so happy but unless you see me when I pass one of these people, you really will never be able to grasp the full effect. I try and hold back…I try and be normal like the rest of you…just pass by them like they aren’t there. But I can’t! I start waving uncontrollably and bopping up and down…giggling with glee. I know that you probably don’t believe me…but just ask Christine Brinkman. She had the pleasure of seeing this for the first time a few weekends ago.  She was in mid-conversation with me and had to wait a full minute for me to recover from my excitement at the dancing Uncle Sam. I just giggle and dance and get over-the-top happy. Unfortunately, there’s a downside to this: if I see a liberty tax dancer (or any other advertising dancer) NOT getting down, I have the opposite reaction and I get totally bummed out that I am missing out on the opportunity to have one of my joyous encounters. There’s a liberty tax person very close to my house…I pass him on an almost daily basis and I’m getting more and more tempted by the day to roll down my window and school him on his job. I mean really, waving? That’s it? That’s all you can do for your faithful admirers?

I am not kidding you when I say that I will truly drive miles out of my way to find one of these dancers if I am having a bad day. They can cheer me up no matter what…even the day that the woman at the fabric store told me I was fat…what cheered me up? Dancing lady liberty!

These guys, they love to dance. And I love to watch ‘em! It’s the simple things in life…

We’ve got people in town this weekend.  Our first “Northern” visitors to come down here to Texas.  It’s a break from the cold for them as they’re from Ohio.  Let’s just say their names are Susie and James.  My wife recently recounted a story about one of her first interactions with James:

So I’ll leave you with a hearty “Have a Great Weekend!” John and I have some friends coming into town from Ohio—John used to work with Susie at KETV and her husband, James, is an attorney.  They recently moved to Ohio for his new job. One time, I was walking in downtown Omaha from my parking spot on the street to my office where I was clerking when I happened to see James walking with a bunch of his work friends. You see, James worked at one of the best law firms in Omaha and he was all proper in his business suit and whatnot. Well, I decided that it’d be a good idea to hug him…keep in mind I’d only met him one time prior to this. I don’t know what got into me but we saw each other on the street and I said hello; he put his hand out to shake mine and I just went for it—the hug. There we were, hugging on the street—he with his hand still extended (now pushing into my stomach) and me hugging him. It looked ridiculous. He had a kind of “umm” going on and I was smiling like crazy—hugging away. His lawyer friends had to be thinking “What the…?” I informed him that I was late for work and had to go (so even after this awkward exchange, we didn’t really talk…making it even more clear to his coworkers that James and I weren’t some old friends that made the hug totally appropriate. Nope. It just proved that it was a super duper strange exchange). I walked away and it was one of those moments of, “What the hell did I do that for?” To this day, I am embarrassed just thinking about it. First of all, I had met him once. Why the hug? Secondly, he was with all his work buddies—probably not an appropriate hugging situation anyway. Finally, when I saw his hand extended, why did I insist on wrapping my arms around him?

Anyway, James decided I wasn’t too lame and they are coming to see us this weekend. We’re pretty stoked to show them our city. Hopefully they don’t mind me waddling around like “a mix between an ape and a penguin” (as my cousin put it).

Speaking of awkward hugs…if any of you have yet to get your lovey something for Valentine’s Day, let me be of service. Here’s a GREAT, UNIQUE idea:

February 17.  It’s around this time each year that something amazing happens.  Pitchers and Catchers report to Spring Training in Arizona and Florida.  Specifically, Cardinal Pitchers and Cardinal Catchers head to Jupiter, Florida to begin preparation for Spring Training Games and for the Regular season.

This season is a bit different than normal.  First of all, on opening day, I’m going to be a father.  For some reason, being a father and a baseball fan has some sort of mystique about it.  I watch football, but I’m not that interested in it.  I enjoy basketball, but I can do with or without it.  I love baseball.  I love the strategy.  I love the fact that some people find it boring, because it means you see something special in it that others can’t (similar to Robert Altman films).  I love the crack of the bat.  I love the fact that the beginning of Spring Training or the Season means the weather is warming up and summer is coming.  There’s just so much to love about it.

I can remember being young and watching a Cardinals game with my Dad and thinking about how boring it was.  I wonder if Junior will think the same.

I remember my Dad coming home after the Mark McGwire trade and impersonating his batting stance to tell me the Cardinal got him in a trade.

I remember sitting in the kitchen watching the opening day of the baseball season when McGwire began his record breaking pace.  (The memory is slightly tainted now.)

I remember Gary Gaetti’s Grand Slam in Game 3 of the 1996 NLCS and thinking there’s no way the Cardinals can lose now!

I remember game 5, 6, and 7 of the 1996 NLCS when the Atlanta Braves outscored the Cardinal 32-1 and being absolutely heartbroken.

I remember vividly the no-hitters of Bud Smith and Jose Jiminez. 

I remember Fernado Tatis hitting two grand slams in one inning. 

The World Series win of 2006.

Joe McEwing.

The heart break of other post-season losses.

Most importantly though, I loved and still love hearing my dad tell stories about baseball players that I never got to see.  Players in the 1960s and 1970s when he was a kid and a young adult.  I feel as though there’s something special about being able to tell my son those same stories.  To share with him the memories above (and a whole bunch of other ones) seems almost magical.

And while he’ll have no idea what’s happening, I’m excited that he’ll be here for Opening Day 2010… April 5 versus Cincinnati on ESPN.

Going off of yesterday’s posts, I thought I would discuss one of my favorite past-times.  I really enjoy getting angry with my wife in a store.  Not really getting angry (I don’t actually get angry about many things, which is part of the reason I find humorous), but acting like I’m a jerk. 

This works like we’re walking by a group of people in the store and I say something like:

Me: Would you hurry up?
Wife: What?
Me: You’re walking really slow.  I’m getting really tired of always having to wait for you.  It’s you being selfish that I have to wait for you and I’m over it.  Okay?  I don’t want to wait anymore and you’re just going to have to walk faster.

As the dialogue continues, my voice becomes angrier and a bit louder.  Luckily, Stunning knows my game and she placates my by playing along (most of the time).  The whole goal here is to make other people feel awkward by listening in on a fight.  It works… trust me.

A couple months ago, we were at the local grocery store checking out and I was asked by my wife to carry a bag of groceries:

Wife: Will you get this bag of groceries?
Me: No.
Wife: What?
Me: No.  I’m not going to carry it.  I’m tired of always carrying your groceries.  You need to stop being so lazy.
(Grocery store employee quickly gives me a shocked look and then quickly looks down to avoid any other eye contact.)
Wife: John, stop it.
(I start laughing.)
Grocery Store Clerk: Oh thank goodness.  I was worried.

Of course, it made it all the better that she was visibly pregnant.

Anyway, if I’m going to be a nice guy in real life, I’m glad I can joke about being a complete ass-hole.  My wife letting me do so, is just one of the many reasons she is so awesome.

In the 3rd Grade, I was tasked with doing an “All About Me” board on the wall.  I had to bring in pictures and write words that described me.  One of the words I chose was “Weird” (though I spelled it “wierd” and I still spell it wrong most of the time).  Then I chose a picture of me sitting on the toilet reading a book with my pants around my ankles.  I was potty-training in the picture, but I don’t think it was quite appropriate for the Me Board, but the teacher put it up there nonetheless. 

Well, weird  or immature would probably still describe my personality.  I enjoy talking really loud and in a monotone voice at work to see what people’s reaction will be.  (They’re perplexed.  It’s actually quite fun, you should try it.)    This is just one example, but I’m sure anyone that knows me has a story that they can think where I’m being less than “normal”.  It’s my style. 

Well, that style didn’t quite mix with the parenting class we went to the other day.  Part of my maturity level (and a gift my Dad has given me as he is stricken with the same affliction) is what we call the “giggles”.  It really is laughing at something that really isn’t funny, but not being able to stop laughing.  I’m sure you’ve done it before.  This is a very good example:

It’s a little worse for me though than the average person.  For example, this would actually happen to me on TV.  (I once said the following: “The record low for today is –34 degrees set back in 1896, so if you were alive back then you’d be …. really… old now.”  That proceeded with me getting the giggles for the rest of the forecast.  Oops.)  I’ve done it at funerals before too.  Anyway, it also happened to me in this class. 

In these classes, one tries to promote and aura of maturity to the other parents.  (Why hello… I’m in this class not because i need to be, but because I want to prove to everyone that I’m a good parent.)  I think I failed in convincing others of this.

1) During a video telling us what would happen shortly after birth.  A baby got their vitamin K shot in their leg.  For some reason the baby’s reaction (pure terror) on the video struck me as funny.  I almost lost it here, but gathered myself and prevented any audible laughing (there was some trembling though and looking down).

2) The teacher was good.  She was a nurse, but she was just saying some of the most bizarre things. 

“Listen, babies are going to suck.  They’re going to suck in utero and they’re going suck when they’re born.”

“The umbilical cord will eventually fall off.  Now, on my youngest daughter I actually didn’t even notice the cord fall off.  I just looked at her and said, "Where did that cord go?”  Then I looked down and my dog was chewing on something.  Well, wouldn’t you know he had gotten the cord and was eating it?!?  He was in heaven.  He got quite the treat that day.”

“If you get your boy circumcised, he going to have a scab down there.  Just take the disinfectant goop and just pile it on there like a dairy queen.”

“Whatever you do...  DO NOT bite your baby’s fingernails.”

“If you’re a guy, it going to be weird changing your daughter’s diaper.  It’s a personal area.  My husband couldn’t do it for a long time.  Eventually, when my daughter got older she called that area her “Pretty Girl”.  “My pretty girl” this and “my pretty girl” that…”

I made my wife to write all of these down so you could see what I had to deal with to prevent from laughing.

3) Playing with dolls is not my thing.  However, in any good baby class you’re going to be given a baby doll to “wash” and change diapers.

First of all, I find these babies funny.  Second of all, I still feel ridiculous playing doll by wiping a plastic child’s butt.  At one point we had to turn the baby over to “wash its back”.  Well, I didn’t want to lose sight of my child’s eyes so I turned its head all the way around.  Then I heard someone laughing to my right and another couple was looking at me working with this child and placing its hands, legs, and head in strange positions.  It’s at that point I realized I was the student that the teacher secretly hates for making the entire class unruly.

4) There were a lot of boobs flying around in that room.  Not the pregnant people in there, but on the video.  I can’t imagine what the breast feeding class is going to be like.  Help me God…

5) I’m still a junior high student at heart, I find words like “penis”, “breast” and “uterus” funny when they are said out loud by an individual.

In the end, I was told by the wife to get on my phone and surf facebook so I would stop laughing while the teacher was talking.  It made me realize, I’m definitely going to be one of those fathers that laughs boisterously with my son as he farts really loud.  I’m sorry people, but that’s just funny.

Well, National Weatherperson Appreciation Day came and went last week and I wasn’t appreciated very much.  It’s fine though, because I’m no longer a weatherperson.  However, as I stated on that day (February 5) once a meteorologist, always a meteorologist at heart.  (Although when people ask me the forecast with the idea that I know all forecasts and weather conditions at all times, I tell them that I have retired.)

I do want to honor those people who still make a career out of the weather.  It’s an amazing thing to do.  In fact, I wanted to be a weatherman as early as the fifth grade.  I decided then that it is what I want to do and over the years it never changed.  Once I got to experience the hours and pay though, I decided I would do something else.  (It’s been a great change though, thanks to my current employer who is amazing!) 

However, being a meteorologist is not the easiest thing to do.  The hours are always strange and for the most part they are always changing.  You have to experience some terrible jokes on an almost daily basis:

“Wow… weather guy… must be nice to have a job where you can be wrong all the time and still get paid.”

Real original!!  In fact, I haven’t heard that joke since yesterday.

For the fact that meteorologists across the United States have to experience that joke at all times, I must give them my honest appreciation. 

I appreciate you, Mr. Making Forecasts All the Time Guy.

While the East Coast was dealing with what has affectionately become known as the “Blizzard of 2010” or as President Obama was reported to have called it, “Snowmageddon”, I was hanging outside in San Antonio, Texas.  We just moved to Texas from Omaha, Nebraska in May.  It’s been quite the change of scenery, especially this winter.  While Omaha or the East Coast dealt with multiple snowstorms, we dealt with the coldest temperature of 16 degrees, which people here freaked out about.

This post is not about bragging or making you jealous.  Instead, I have a message for you.  Spring has sprung in San Antonio.  That means Spring is moving north and making its advance across the United States.  It means, Spring is coming for you.  I give you the indications of Spring in San Antonio:

Have faith people of the north… Spring is coming and you’ll get it soon.