Sunday, May 24, 2009

It's all happening.

We're pregnant. Fo real. Yes, I'm stating quite the obvious, but the truth is growing more and more evident every day. Take this weekend; up until recently our Saturdays consisted of going running, satiating our obsession with mid-century furniture at local antique stores, taking the dog to the park, spending the night out with friends. Last night, however, we rented a movie and sat on the couch. More specifically, we rented Paul Blart: Mall Cop. Do not judge us.

Then today my awesome wife had a bit of a setback. More specifically, she had a setback all over the passenger seat of my car. And in the parking lot of a post office. The woman who was watering her flowers across the street stared unapologetically and the man exiting the office next door told me we were blocking traffic, which was neither true nor appreciated by my vomiting wife.

I always found it odd when people referred to couples as being pregnant. It seemed wrong on principle, at least biologically. And while I'd never claim to understand the discomfort, the nausea, the sheer pain that accompanies having to drink gallons of water without peeing before a sonogram, I'm starting to get why people bandy that phrase about with such little reservation. Cause I may not be carrying that little lime-sized kid around in my belly and enduring the nausea that comes along with it, but this whole pregnancy thing demands a strong team effort, and I'm all in. Believe what I am talking- once you see that tiny fuzzy gray mass move around and hear its beating heart, it's all over. You can't be anything but all in.

So our first sonogram was the most surreal experience of my life. I've seen photos of other sonograms around nine weeks, but I mostly remember barely-distinguishable features that sort of vaguely looked like they might belong to a tiny shrimp-like human thing. Not so with Short Round. We saw a head. We saw a foot. We saw an arm and umbilical cord and placenta and everything. And, I contend, Short Round waved at us. The ultrasound tech said it was just involuntary movement, but I know better. That kids was saying, "Hey mom. Hey dad. Look how awesome I am." I could have watched that for hours.

So there you have it. Proof that there's actually a little person inside Kelsey. We'll get pictures up later this week so you all can revel in the joy that modern technology has afforded us. Shazaam.

Monday, May 18, 2009

You've got to give the people what they want

I believe Sara B's actual words were, "Kautzis, give the people what they want! There hasn't been a new blog entry since May 10th!"  Well, Sara, we've heard you.  But, before I simply concede to such demands, there's something I've got to get off my chest.  You see Sara, I've deduced that you belong to an underground majority of folks to whom I've given the title, Our Silent Audience.  I've got to say that I'm a bit dumbfounded by these quiet observers we have acquired.  Here's what I have to say to you, you mute followers.  You do us no good.  I mean, what point is there to all of the narcissism that constitutes this blog if not for the authors to enjoy the commentary of our faithful readers? So to you, who have all these opinions about the frequency of our entries, you who have applied ambiguous threats such as, "you know, the less you write your blog, the less awesome your kid will become" (cough, Mikey, cough, cough), you who place upon us the burden to entertain and amuse you - to each and all of you, I have only this to say:  Leave us a comment and we'll give you what you want. 

On a similar note, I'd like to award the first ever Kautzi Kommentor Award (yes, we're German) to Dave Coates, whose amusing comments have made me question on a number of occasions whether it was in fact him or perhaps just another anonymous dave who got lost in cyberspace and thought he was commenting on an entirely different blog.  One that had a lot more to do with gypsies and Japanese horror movies and a lot less to do with morning sickness and baby name drama.  Regardless, this week's Kautzi Kommentor Award is our gift of gratitude to you, Dave.

Okay, on to the good stuff.  So, we've got our first sonogram scheduled for Wednesday evening.  The only prep work I have to do for this is to drink four 8 oz glasses of water an hour prior to the appointment and not pee until the sonogram's done.  Sounds simple right?  Not right.  Considering tonight alone, I've only drunk maybe a total of 20 oz of liquid and I've already had to run (and I mean run) to the bathroom 4 times, I'm thinking this could be a bit of a problem.  So, Baby, here's your first request/order from your mama.  Be cooperative for your little photo session tomorrow so your mommy doesn't pee her pants on the exam table.  That will not be a fond memory, I promise you.  Also, I'm sorry about the 2 enchiladas I ate tonight.  I know that's not doing either of us any good.

In case you aren't keeping track like we are (I know you are - why wouldn't you be?), our baby is now the size of "a medium green olive."  Which in my opinion, is a relatively, well, relative descriptor.  Is there some standard measurement of a green olive that I'm not aware of?  In fact, I'd like to take this opportunity to also address this issue in cooking as well.  Maybe I'm just too novice a chef, but a medium onion, medium potato, medium pepper, medium olive just doesn't help me when there are 15 different variations of sizes of each type of produce.  Am I missing something?  Am I just too perfectionistic and analytical?  Don't answer that.

Speaking of perfectionistic and analytical, it's amazing to think that along with its heart and lungs and brain and pancreas and finger touch pads and intestines and eyelids and ears our baby is also currently developing its little personality.  A crazy little blend of Eric and me which could turn out incredibly awesome (Eric's creativity and wit and my...good...qualities...) or incredibly unfortunate (my perfectionism and Eric's wild indifference for organization and structure).  Let's just hope that whatever exotic balance this child reveals, that its two differing and yet complementary genes aren't at constant war with each other.  

Actually, during worship last night at church I was praying for the baby and the only thing I could really think to ask for is that this child has a unique and sincere connection and understanding of our creative and perfectionistic Father.  I just pray that our child will know in whose image he or she was created.  And that whichever qualities he inherits from his parents, they are intentional - if not slightly dwarfed and off-kilter - representations of the character and personality of the Creator.  In His image He created them.  Male and female He created them.  Analytical and free-spirited He created them.  Even-tempered and dramatic He created them.  Cautious and impulsive He created them.  And whether or not we feel it or believe it, He said it was good.  So it must be.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Everyone is pregnant but me.

That's the recurring complaint I heard until recently from my wonderful and patient wife. Well, a few nights ago I had a dream where that was sort of true- everyone was pregnant but me. At least every married lady at the Gathering was pregnant. You'd think that having to share news like that with a dozen other women would somehow dilute the pomp of the whole event, but it wasn't the case. In fact, it seemed to increase the spectacle exponentially, for two pregnant women in particular.

Now I don't know a thing about dream interpretation. While I occasionally have an unsubstantiated sense that my subconscious is trying to tell me something important, most dreams consist of fragments of confused identities and cryptic phrases that mean nothing (this morning I was woken up from a dream in which a mysterious woman was singing an epic ballad about how if you want to win, you have to take a bath. Figures. It's either totally irrelevant, or my brain is telling me that I smell).

So, maybe those of you who are more analytical than I (Isaac, I'm looking in your direction) can tell me if my head is just consumed with all things pregnancy or if that dream needs more deciphering. I'm hoping it simply means that our kid will be surrounded by friends and by people who are as excited as we are that he or she is arriving. Actually, that brings me to another point- Kelsey indicated that we will in fact find out the sex of the baby and will in fact tell all of you. As that's still a few months off, this 'he or she' stuff feels a little awkward and heavy-handed. Thus, to keep things simple from this point until that fateful sonogram, I'll be referring to the baby as Short Round. Hang on, lady. We going for a ride.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Baby Kautzi = Good Luck

Let me clarify two things before I go any further. One, I do not believe in luck. In any capacity. Two, I am admittedly a fair-weather Royals fan. I'll root for them when they play thirty out of the other thirty-one teams, but like most of my family who lived on or near the South side of Chicago, I grew up watching the White Sox. That is, when they played the Royals because, until recently, WGN mostly covered the Cubs. Phooey. Needless to say, the weather is fair this season. Fairer than I can ever remember, since I was two when the Royals won the series.

So Tuesday night my parents took Kelsey and I to Kauffman for the baby's first game. It was the first time I've ever gone to a Royals vs Sox game wearing blue instead of black, but don't dwell on that too long. Fair-weather, right here. Sue me. The combination of the misty rain and the lack of Greinke on the mound subdued the crowd a little, but seeing the new improvements almost made it worth the construction-zone K of last season. Actually, the "New K" is pretty cool, even though it looks like the Old K with some new bars and seats where the grass used to grow. Still, the highlight of the night was the sweaty rotund kid dancing semi-seductively on the Jumbotron to the delight of 14,000 fans. Dance on, kid. Shake that belly all night long.

Back to my original point (get used to digression). In April two things happened: The Royals started their most promising season in over two decades and the aforementioned Awesome Kid started to grow. Then, last night, said Awesome Kid was in attendence and the Royals twice came back from four run deficits, tied the game at seven, and fought through two extra innings to see John Buck hit a walk-off RBI single in the bottom of the eleventh. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I'm holding on to the notion that our baby is responsible. Just try and prove he/she isn't. I'm telling you, this kid is good luck. Or maybe, unlike it's father, there's just a real Royals fan in there. C'est la vie.

Amniocentesis. A-M-N-I-O-C...

Well, I thought Eric and I would take turns writing posts, but clearly I have more to say (or maybe to complain about, depending on the day) than Eric.  That really shouldn't surprise me.  It's kind of a theme in our relationship.

Today we had our first prenatal appointment.  We met our doctor and she's awesome.  She even tolerated my entire page full of questions I had written out last night.  When do we get our first ultrasound? When can we find out if it's a boy or a girl? What happens if I go into labor and you are out of town? Will our baby have diabetes? Will our baby have crooked pinkies? What does amniocentesis mean? How do you spell amniocentesis? 

Okay so some of those I didn't actually ask, but I wanted to!  I did find out some wonderful news that I am supposed to avoid most chemicals found in cleaning supplies if I'm not in a well-ventilated room.  You know what that means?  Eric just got promoted to Official Bathroom Cleaner for the next eight months!  Hooray!

The doctor also told me that my cervix looked "very pregnant" which I can only assume is a good thing seeing as I am pregnant.  So there you go.

Next on the agenda, for all you structured folks like me out there who like to know what to expect, are the following events in random order:

- Our first photo opp. The scheduling of this is dependent on how soon I can sweet talk Dr. Uncle into sneaking me into one of his baby picture room thingies.  (Can you tell by that articulate description that I came away from our first prenatal appointment with a brilliant grasp on all things pregnancy related?)

- Our first panic attack. This is an unscheduled event to take place upon the realization that, "Surprise! We're having an actual human being in t-minus however many weeks" and "Surprise! We have to figure out how to keep that thing alive...all by ourselves!"

- Our first hormonal meltdown.  Oh wait, that already happened.  (See previous blog entry.)

- Our first fight about the name of our child. Oh wait, that already happened, too.  No, Eric, remember my rule?  No baby names that you say in a Tony Danza voice.  Which rules out all names from Who's the Boss characters. Samanthuh. Angeluh. Monuh.   NO.

- Our first trip to Babies R Overwhelming to register for the truck load of baby STUFF that we'll soon be wading through asking each other, "Have you seen the dog?"

- Our first big question answered. Yes, we are finding out. Yes, we will tell you.  No, we don't think it will ruin the surprise.  Boy or Girl? Anyone have a vote?

Well, that's all I've got for now.  I'm sure there will be plenty more to come.  Until then, say a little prayer for our little blueberry who's growing up so fast and making us parents grow up fast, too!