& we’re still kickin’

Sorry, folks. I know, it’s been a while, and you’ve probably moved on from us. I understand. I had to put the blog in the garage for a while—we got busy since my with a whole bunch of stuff. So let me recap and get you caught up with the Sasquatch family.

How do you pack a toddler, exactly?

How do you pack a toddler, exactly?

For starters, we moved. I don’t know if you’ve ever moved with a toddler, but to quote Lady Gwendolyn of Stefania: “That shit is bananas.” The last time we moved, Squatch was about five weeks old, and he was pretty much out of the way. This time, he was all up in everything. If he was around while we were packing, he was taking stuff out of the box as fast as we could get it in there. Packing his room was especially awful. What probably should’ve taken about half an hour was a three-day ordeal. If you have to move with a toddler, just leave your stuff and get new things. It’ll just be easier that way, trust me. Maybe you’ll luck out and the people who were there before you had a toddler—then you can just have their stuff.

Squatch has been growing up way too fast. He got a big-boy bed, he’s doing all kinds of stuff on his own, and he’s talking a bunch. Like a lot. Like ALL THE TIME. I wish I was exaggerating. There have been days where, if he wasn’t sleeping, he was talking. About anything and everything. It’s adorable and exhausting. One of my favorite videos (courtesy of Karli):

This kid. #grahamcrackcrack #mynose

A post shared by Karli Davis (@1001tries) on

It’s that, all the time. Usually a lot louder, though.

So the move and the Squatch are why you didn’t hear from me all summer, and then I started school in August and have pretty much been busy with reading and endless papers since then*. It’s great being back in school, but so much more difficult than the last time I did this. My program is more demanding, for one, but I also didn’t have to do reading in between playing trains and episodes of Team Umizoomi. Totally a different ballgame these days.

*It’s still busy as hell. This is just my way of procrastinating.

So that’s what’s been keeping us pretty busy—moving, toddler, school, work, preparing for the new baby, Christmas decorations…

What was the last one you said? Christmas decorations? Well, it is that time of year…

Oh, before that? The baby. Okay, you got me. Maybe I should have led with that. Internet, meet Sugarfoot:

Arriving under a Christmas tree near you (as long as you're near Kansas City).

Arriving under a Christmas tree near you (as long as you’re near Kansas City).

The due date is December 27*, which means that as of this Saturday, we’re officially in “any day now” territory. Karli’s doing well, but the pregnancy for this one has been completely different—for both (well, all three) of us.

*I know, you’re finding out really late in the game. You can be mad at me, it’s okay.

Obligatory cuteness: Squatch was Bob Ross for Halloween. Commence squealing with delight.

Obligatory cuteness: Squatch was Bob Ross for Halloween. Commence squealing with delight.

For Squatch, it should be fairly obvious how it’s different. Karli’s having a rougher go of it than the first time around—morning sickness was worse, pains and indigestion have been worse, I’ve been worse. It’s not been much of an enjoyable experience for her, with the exception of her doctor, who is infinitely better than the last one. That’s the benefit of living in a city instead of forty-five minutes outside a town nobody beyond Oklahoma has heard of.

On my end, it’s crazier, too. Not as difficult as it is for Karli, but I’m pulling the extra duty of taking care of a pregnant lady and a rambunctious, talkative toddler this time. Plus all that crap I was talking about before. You’re jealous, I know.

So that’s where we’re at. I wish I could stay and talk more, but I’ve got a meeting to get to. This is my life now. I won’t make it so long between now and our next chat, and the next time I show up, we’ll have to talk about new blog names. This one’s about to become obsolete.

& three weeks in

It’s been a while. Did you miss me? Karli’s been telling me I need to update the blog because if I don’t, people will stop reading. This is why I like her—she actually thinks people read my blog.

Spoiler alert: The first few weeks have mostly been variations of this.

Today, Squatch is three weeks old. It’s been quite the adventure so far. It is umpteen times more difficult than I could have imagined, but also exponentially more awesome. Much of this is due to the fact that he’s the coolest baby ever*. But some is also because of how hard it is and the fact that we appear to be succeeding so far—as shown by it being three weeks in and he’s still alive and without lasting physical or psychological damage. We think.

*Don’t argue that point. It’s established fact. Also fact: he’s the cutest baby ever.

So far in his three weeks, though, he hasn’t done anything too exciting. We got to go to the doctor a few times, but the highlights for him would probably be the visitors. He entertained guests in his hospital suite and here at our shitty apartment, and has done so in a manner that Emily Post would be proud of.

Visual proof that he’s safe and in one piece.

One thing I’m glad we did was ask out-of-town guests (meaning family) to wait at least a week before coming down to visit. It’s not that we aren’t dying for Squatch to meet all his family, but that week buffer was mostly for us. We needed time to establish a routine, get comfortable with a new baby in the house, and most importantly, to screw up. Because, in those first few days, boy did we ever screw up. And the last thing we needed was an audience to witness those screw-ups.

Like the time we were changing his diaper and he started to crap on the changing pad, and as we were trying to clean him up for that, we managed to get him to pee on his own face. Or like the time the dog snatched away a piece of bread that had managed to fall on his head and stop our hearts for about 15 seconds. Or any other number of meltdowns and freak-outs that happened in those first few days home*. We didn’t need people watching those.

*I’m not going to say who’s responsible for these screw-ups, but his name rhymes with Swatch’s Schmaddy.

Squatch hanging with Wumpy. (Stolen from my mother-in-law’s Facebook page.)

After the week moratorium, however, Squatch got to meet Karli’s parents—Wumpy and Nana. That’s what we’ve decided they’ll be called, and putting it out on the internet makes it official. No going back now. Having them here allowed us to hand him off for a few minutes* and get some help packing up a few things, and they were excited to see their first grandkid.

*A slight underexaggeration. I’m pretty sure that one of them was holding the kid practically every second they were awake and Squatch wasn’t attached to a boob. Not that they seemed to mind at all.

A few more visitors are in store before Squatch’s first big adventure—moving day. I’ll make sure to keep you apprised of how that whole mess goes down, too, especially now that we’ve made it through the first few weeks. I think I’ll be able to keep up on the blog a little better now. People keep telling us the first few weeks are the hardest and it gets better. Of course, they could just be trying to be nice.

& the freak-down: bits n pieces

The Freak-Down

29 Days

A few things strung together to make a whole post:

Diapers

A drawer full of crap catchers.

We celebrated our anniversary rather tamely—the only way you can really do it with a lady approaching 36 weeks of fetus-baking. A quiet, easily-digested dinner and hanging out at home. The exciting part of the day was when the diapers arrived. Normally, diapers wouldn’t be that exciting, but these aren’t your normal Pampers. We got an order in from BumRite Diapers, and you’d be excited when the diapers look this cool. We just need to wash them and we’re ready to go. Man, and I thought my parents were lame when I was a kid.


Yesterday, since the offices at the school here are closed on Fridays over the summer, which means Karli gets those days off, we ran some errands. Nothing too exciting—getting some groceries and picking up some boxes from U-Haul. But since this isn’t the most populated of areas, there isn’t a real U-Haul business. It’s always another type of business that happens to rent out U-Haul trucks. The place we went happened to be a consignment store.

We started ordering some boxes from the lady behind the counter, an older woman who was having a little trouble keeping up with what Karli was saying. Now, if you’ve never been to U-Haul before, you might not be aware that U-Haul will let you return any boxes you don’t use to get your money back on them. Standard stuff. Anyway, here’s how part of the conversation went between Karli and the lady behind the counter:

Karli: And we’re able to bring back whatever we don’t use?
Old Lady: Sure. Well, there’s a 15% restocking fee, but you can bring them back.
Karli: A restocking fee? We’ve done this six times before and never had to pay a restocking fee.
Old Lady: *30 seconds of blank stare*
Karli: You’re sure there’s a restocking fee? Because if we have to pay a restocking fee, we can just go get this stuff somewhere else.
Old Lady: *30 more seconds of blank stare* What would you want to return?
Me: *Trying hard not to laugh*
Karli: I don’t know. Some of the boxes and I don’t know if we’ll use this many rolls of tape.
Old Lady: *More blank stare*
Karli: Can we bring them back?
Old Lady: *More blank stare before slowly nodding*
Karli: *Exasperated blank stare*

Here’s your lesson on southeastern Oklahoma for today—if you’re even the least bit assertive and stand your ground, you can practically make people piss in their pants. They want so badly to avoid confrontation that they’ll give in to just about anything. Karli stopped at insisting on U-Haul’s policy to be kept up. I was kinda hoping she’d keep going till they were basically paying us to take these boxes off their hands. I’m a supportive husband like that.

As a coda to the story, the old lady called over one of the other employees to help us get our boxes and told her that if we bring any boxes back, we wouldn’t be charged a restocking fee. The other lady, who was apparently a little more with it responded that they don’t charge restocking fees on boxes anyway. So it’s cool.


In addition to the super fun time at the U-Haul place, we took advantage of the day off to go see a movie. Of course we went to What to Expect When You’re Expecting. It’s definitely not a classic, but it’s got some funny parts. If you haven’t seen it yet, you’re probably cool waiting till it gets to Netflix or shows up on television.

The one part where Karli laughed the hardest was when Elizabeth Banks’s character showed up to the baby shower of another character carrying about a gallon bottle of Tums. The fart wake she leaves behind her is pretty funny, too. I could hear Karli’s been-there-done-that laugh (except for the farting part, of course*) tail off as she started to ponder where to find her own bucket of antacids. Art imitating life.

*Nice save! ::Self-high five::

Banks also has a nice tirade a little later in the movie, most of which sounded eerily familiar to things I’ve already heard over the last few months. Not everything in there, but a lot of it. Her character is about as big a fan of pregnancy as Karli is.

Yep. Heard that one before.

& the freak-down: roller coasters

The Freak-Down

34 Days

Lately we’ve been vacillating pretty wildly between feeling ready for Squatch to get here to not being ready at all. Sometimes in the course of a few minutes.

Like yesterday, when we were working on straightening things up around the apartment and in the halted Squatch Den, Karli and I were talking about Squatch getting a move on with this whole baby-cooking thing. Then we started thinking about all the crap we still needed to get done before Squatch gets here and we switched to telling that kid to stay put till we can get everything settled. Then those Braxton Hicks pains kicked in again, and we (mostly Karli) started hoping for a delivery in the near future. Hey, we contain multitudes.

I think a lot of this coms from the paralysis reflex. You know the one—when there’s so much to do that you don’t know where to start and you freeze, shut down, watch Mythbusters all weekend. Maybe you don’t. Maybe that’s just me.

In any case, I think that’s what this back-and-forth comes from—the feeling of not knowing which way to move. I start doing the dishes and the voice in the back of my head says, “What are you doing? This doesn’t help Squatch! You’re not preparing for that kid! NOW IT’LL NEVER GET INTO COLLEGE!

So I go to organize the Squatch Den and start packing things up to get as ready for the move as we can before Squatch gets here, then the voice pipes up again. It says, “You can’t just leave the dishes! That’s unsanitary! You want Squatch to get TAKEN AWAY BY SOCIAL SERVICES?

That damn voice needs to shut up. I’ve got a million things to do, and the last thing I need is a micromanaging jackass second-guessing everything I do.

I actually can’t wait for Squatch to get here. Because that’s when everything becomes simple, right? Once you become a parent, you know exactly what you’re supposed to do at every point in time. Isn’t that the way it works?

& the freak-down: places, please

The Freak-Down

46 Days

All right, Bloggy-verse, what the hell are we supposed to be looking for in a place to live with a kid?

Karli and I are no strangers to moving or finding places to rent. We’ve done it several times already, with some mixed success. There have been some stinkers, sure. Not all of them, though. And we’ve gotten used to looking for the things we need. We don’t always get them, like with this place.

We’re used to looking for apartments with certain amenities because of the animals, but do you need to look for certain things because of a baby? When we’re looking at places, we have to make sure they take larger dogs because not all places do. But they’ll all take babies, right? I mean, rental places that don’t allow babies—that’s not a thing, is it? And we like to find places with a yard so that I don’t have to go out with Gordie every time she needs to shit. Especially now that I have one more living thing’s shit to take care of.

Obviously we need a certain number of rooms now that there will be another person living with us. That’s kind of a given. But what else should we be looking for here?

I’ve heard of people looking at the schools around the area. That’s not something I didn’t think we’d have to do because 1) it’s a rental and we’re not planning on being there long enough for Squatch to hit school, and 2) I don’t know the first thing about the schools there. So there’s that.

Tell me folks—is there stuff we’re supposed to be paying attention to with the baby and a rental place?

& the freak-down: bailing on the okies

The Freak-Down

52 Days

Yesterday I mentioned the Big Thing that happened this week and that I’d talk about it today. It’s probably not as big of a thing as having a kid, but it’s still pretty huge. It’ll change our lives, that’s for sure.

I got a new job teaching at a school near Kansas City, so we’ll be leaving Oklahoma behind*. We’re sticking around here for a couple more months so Karli can keep her insurance and get a paycheck, which means that we’ll be heading up and moving out by the end of the summer. After we have Squatch.

*Sorry about the sly “I’ve got a secret” crap yesterday, but I couldn’t really announce it till I told my boss. You never know what gets around on the internet.

Yes, we’ll get the joy of moving with a newborn. I honestly have no idea what to expect or how the kid’s going to be able to handle it. Here’s a list of things I do know about moving with a newborn.

This is a no-no. At least not without proper packaging

  1. Don’t pack the baby in a box.

And that about covers it. Aside from that, we’ll get to figure it out as we go along. Karli said she read that it’s actually easier (in general) to move with a newborn than a baby who’s a little bit older.  It’s also supposedly easier to build a car engine than a nuclear reactor, but I can’t really do either of those. Perspective, I guess.

Our families are thrilled because we’re bringing their grandchild back to within a short drive instead of a whole-day trip down to the mountains. Oh, and we’re coming back too, I guess.

We’re thrilled because family will be nearby, as will Target, Chipotle, Jimmy John’s, and the rest of civilization.

I’m thrilled because I’ll be teaching four classes instead of seven or eight.

Squatch will be born here a few weeks before we move, which means it’ll never get the joy of remembering the shitty student apartment we lived in when it was born. It’ll also never get the chance to pick up the accent. We will, however, constantly ridicule remind Squatch that it’ll always be an Okie. No escaping your destiny, pal.