With that, the future fruit of our loins is introduced to the world. I actually set this up and wrote this post a week or so before it all goes live, but we had to wait till now because neither my wife nor I had told our parents yet. And if there’s one thing you don’t want to do before the baby’s even seen the light of day, it’s short-shrift the grandparents. They got to hear it first, then you—that’s how it works. Deal with it.
So, I guess you can start here to find out what this “Squatch” business is about. Beyond that, we’ll just get started.
This blog is here because of disappointment. The bloggy-sphere (that’s what it’s called, right?) is full of posts from future moms and new moms and professional moms and crafty moms and moms moms moms. And that’s awesome. When it comes to building a baby, the mom is doing all the work. In general (not in every case, but in general) they’re much more into the baby-making process, too. Everything that’s happening is happening to them at this point. So it only makes sense that pretty much all the prenatal writing deals with mom. And that’s cool. You’ll get no complaints from me. Moms need to talk and be heard.
The thing is that the voice from expectant dads is sadly lacking. I could play armchair sociologist and talk about how disappointing it is that real men are supposed to be cooly, stoically detached from all this baby business or that we’re not supposed to be all excited about a baby coming. But that’s not really why I jumped in on this blog train. I just looked around at the bloggy-sphere, noting the lack of expectant fathers—or at least expectant fathers who don’t come off as superdad, everything-is-wonderful-and-beautiful-and-miraculous, my-baby’s-shit-is-so-majestic types, or worse, the me-no-understand-children-come-from-vagina types—and took inspiration from a couple decent examples to get talking about my soon-to-be-dad experiences. Maybe it’ll be entertaining. Maybe it’ll eventually help out people like me—first-timers who are pretty excited about becoming dads but also slightly terrified at the thought of being responsible (or at least half-responsible) for another person. Maybe it’ll have pictures. Maybe I’ll embarrass myself and my wife just a little bit. Maybe we’ll see what happens.
& who are you, exactly?
I’m Ande. I’m 29. My wife is Karli. She’s 28. Squatch will be our first kid, set to invade in July of 2012. Since August, we’ve lived in Wilburton, Oklahoma. Don’t know where that is? Google it. When you’re done laughing, come back and join us here. Before this, we’ve lived in Topeka, Kansas, and Mankato, Minnesota, for various periods of time as we stumbled our way through school, then graduate school, then those first couple crappy years after school. Somewhere along the line we decided to start trying to have a kid.
We’ve been married for 8 and a half years (if you do the math, you’ll find we married scary young), and up to this point it’s just been us, our cat, Turk, and our dog, Gordie. This blog’s not about them, but they might make cameo appearances now and then. Maybe occasionally I’ll not talk about the Squatch at all and write something about being married so young. People eat that shit up, too, amiright?
Karli and I have never the type to treat our pets like kids. We didn’t call ourselves “mom” and “dad” with them. Not our style. At this point, we’re still getting used to the idea of being Mom and Dad. That’s probably what you’ll be reading here (if you choose to keep going after this point): us getting used to being actual, honest-to-Bob parents. Neither of us is the super-sentimental type, so this won’t be a whole bunch of ooey-gooey, miracle-of-life, babies-are-so-precious bullshit. If the first few months are any indication, it’ll probably be a lot about vomit and sickness and puking and crying and sore boobs. And Karli hasn’t felt great, either. There might be a screaming child at the end of this. Oh, and fair warning: I might swear.
I’m a writer and teach English at a college, and my wife is a photographer/designer/writer/teacher at the same college. It’s kinda handy that we work in the same place, except because of the lack of awesome rental options in rural Oklahoma, we live in an on-campus apartment that leaves plenty to be desired. I’m sure at some point we’ll touch on “Adventures in Decorating a Nursery in a Shitty, Outdated Rental Apartment” here in this space. Count on it.
So maybe that’ll add a little niche this this blog—the fact that we’re urban(ish) transplants bringing new life into the middle of nowhere might make for some entertaining reading. Get your schadenfreude bibs ready. It’ll be a regular buffet up in here.