It’s a boy!!!:)

At 2am on the night before the winter storm Weatherpersons deemed “Snowmegeddon”, Wifey started having contractions. Thus, I started having heart palpitations. 

It’s not like I didn’t remember we were having another baby. Although with the second pregnancy, every thing up until this moment seemed, how you say…uneventful. Not that Wifey and I weren’t excited. How can I put this without sounding like a complete asshole? To me, the second pregnancy was like reading a really awesome book for the second time. Even though the story was no less captivating, you knew what to expect at every turn. There were no surprises. (Thankfully!:)

Fast forward to 10am Monday morning. The contractions were starting to form a real pattern now. This was no false alarm. So, we did what every nervous, expecting couple would do. We ate at The Krispy Waffle. By the time the plates were cleared from the table, my flatulence was brewing, and the contractions were nearly 10 minutes apart! Time to speed home and call our Birth Coach, Cousin M!

By the time Cousin M. arrived, Wifey’s contractions were now 7-8 minutes apart! OK, I know some of you may be wondering, why the F**K are you people still at home at this point!? To make a VEEERY long story short, when our first son was born, we made the mistake of arriving at the hospital WAY too early. That led to Wifey being strapped to an IV and a monitor for 15 hours leading up to the delivery. With this baby, we were determined to deliver on our terms, with as little intervention as possible. Yes, this means no drugs! I say we, because even though my wife was doing all the hard stuff, she still swears it would not have been possible without the support of our team. My cousin, a Bradley Natural Birth Coach (and Saint:) was there to offer support for both Wifey and I. Marissa and I traded off comforting Mama, and answering the rapid fire questions upon check-in. Marissa and I were both literally at Wifey’s side the entire time. Talk about a Godsend!

Rapid-fire questions, you ask? Yes, I’m getting to that. By 3pm, the contractions were less than five minutes apart! Judging by Wifey’s reaction to the intensifying donkey-punches as compared to the first pregnancy, I was guessing she was two to three hours away from dropping a living-breathing deuce! The team concurred, it was time to hit the road!

The story becomes anything BUT uneventful now. My greatest fear since the moment we laid eyes on the “Positive” sign on the pregnancy pee-stick was the DRIVE to the hospital! Would I be white-knuckled and glued to the windshield while trying to console a crazed preggers lady during a blizzard!? The Gods smiled upon us that afternoon. No snow, and an amazingly CALM wife, considering what she was about to endure!

Both cars in our Baby Team caravan skidded into hospital valet at 4:40pm! We were greeted by the laziest and rudest valet attendant of all time. I’m not kidding. When I asked for a luggage carrier, he just pointed at one over by the entrance. By the time I said “Thanks, Dick”, Super Marissa had a hundred pounds of luggage slung over every limb and Wifey in a wheelchair! I told you she was a Godsend! 

Holy shit! It was 5pm! Wifey could no longer hold a conversation by the time the Nurse took her vitals and did a quick exam. “I’m happy to be the bearer of GOOD news”, the nurse said hurriedly, “You’re dilated to an 8.5!” This is when things get a little blurry. 

The next thing I know, the Nurses are calling the OB and wheeling in the equipment for delivery! I guessed I didn’t have time to set up the iPod complete with a hand selected, soothing John Tesh playlist. What a waste! Anywho…

Let me spare the graphic details and skip to right around 6:00pm. Wifey was going to war  
on that delivery table! I’m talking the stuff that movies are made of! Guys, imagine trying to poop a 7 pound bowling ball without so much as a Tylenol to ease the pain!? Forgeddaboutit!!! 

As I’m trying to help console her, in my mind I’m thinking, these next few minutes could either go really, really good, or heaven forbid, really, really bad. Up until this point, there had only been two times in my entire life when I was absolutely terrified. The first was when my Mom uttered the words, “I have cancer”. The second was those same few minutes just before our first son was born. I just kept thinking, there’s a room full of Angels watching over us right now. Nothing can touch us. 

I pushed past that thought just as Wifey was starting to push out our second child. For those of you that have never witnessed childbirth, I can barely describe the overwhelming emotions. The third push seemed to last forever. As she was enduring the most searing pain imaginable, in what seemed like absolute chaos surrounding us, all I could think to do was whisper “I love you” in her ear. 

I snapped-to again, and focused on the little human being appearing right before my very eyes. I stood amazed, as if I was staring transfixed on every feature of a brand new car as it rolled off the assembly line. Dark hair…ears….eyes….nose….arms…..and finally….PENIS! PENIS! IT’S A BOY! IT’S A BOY!!!!

With that feeling of complete ELATION came complete RELIEF! As with our first boy, I crumbled into tears. It’s funny now to look at the pictures and see the only person crying in a room full of people was me…again. There I was witnessing the nurses raise our perfect little boy to my wife’s chest, and him cracking his eyes open to see for the first time, the woman with the sweet voice who had been taking such good care of him all those months before. 

Until my first son was born, I’d only witnessed people leaving this world. To see a person entering this world, Day 1, Minute 1, is the stuff that songs are written about. 

Let’s fast forward to today. Wifey is on the mend. Little Bean is healthy. Buddy is starting to realize this little show-stealer isn’t leaving anytime soon. And me, well, I’m starting to understand the magnitude of coolness of this situation. I have two sons! Two sons, that will grow up brothers and hopefully best friends. And, their future…Who knows what that will bring?

All I can do is provide and guide, love them to pieces, and buy coffee. Lots of coffee.
Stay tuned, I have a feeling I’m going to have plenty to write about:)


One Prepared Daddy

I spent the entire evening preparing my “Rapid-Response Daddy Kit”. On a moment’s notice, I’m ready to help coach Mama through Labor at home, or speed to the hospital straight from work. Family, friends, and Birth Coach (Cousin M:) are all on high alert, ready to drive and/or babysit as needed. 

Rapid-Response Daddy Kit essentials include: 
1. Snacks! There’s no way we’re sucking on ice chips for hours until the cafe opens.
2. Fully charged video and digital still cameras. 
3. iPod complete with relaxing, eclectic playlist. A perfect soundtrack for introducing my newest little buddy to the world. 
4. Two changes of clothes in case I get slimed.
5. Toiletries to shower after inevitably getting slimed.
6. Car-clean-up kit in case the car gets slimed. 
7. Notes and quick checklists from the Doula. 

Only when I feel prepared, can I relax. I’m ready. Let’s have a baby!!!

What are some of your labor and delivery essentials? I’d love to hear them! 

Am I a Dickhead Dad?

The only peace I’ll get for the next 20 years…

must admit, I feel a bit guilty. With my wife’s first pregnancy, I created so much hype that it turned into 18 months worth of daily Facebook and blog posts, eventually becoming the One Funny Daddy pages (and a book for Jake). Not to mention, 1,000’s of pictures, hours of video, etc. You would of thought we had just spawned Justin Bieber! While Baby Number 2 has been in the oven, my wife and I have calmly and sweetly prepared for the arrival. I am grateful to say it has been an uneventful, relatively painless pregnancy for the wifey. But…no ‘365 Days of Baby Number 2’. No hype. Just hope. Hope that we are lucky enough to bring another happy and healthy kiddo into the family. So, what do we tell this child when he or she asks to see their book, or all those pictures of Mama while she was preggers? Of course, Number 2 will be just as loved, yadda, yadda. Although, with WAY less fanfare. Is this how “Middle Child Syndrome” begins? Am I a Dickhead Dad!?!?!?


I’m BAAAAACK! Well, sort of…As you probably DIDN’T realize, my last post was Father’s Day of 2012, the 1 year anniversary of starting 1FD. I took a bit of a hiatus for a few reasons. Mainly, the self-induced urge to try and post every day, coupled with the redundancy of posts between this blog and my Facebook page was getting very…BORING, for lack of a better word. Although, a lot has changed in the last few months. My son turned 2! And, we have another baby due here in the next few weeks. Reading some of my old posts, along with reading all of your hilarious blogs has reignited that excitement of the exhilarating, yet exhausting days that lie ahead. So, you may see me pop in from time to time with some new observations and the never-ending string of questions for all you smart and sexy parents. It was all your advice and anecdotes that helped me laugh my way through the most frustrating times of being a new dad. Here’s to an AMAZING 2013!!!


Thank you once again, little buddy:)

Ever since I can remember, I was known as the funny fat kid. I would go on some crazy diet and lose weight, but then I was really just a “skinny-fat” funny kid. This has been going on for over 20 years. About 4 years ago, I was in what I considered to be the best shape of my life. I weighed 185 lbs, I had 12% body fat, I was strong, and I could run for miles. Then, I had an injury. Nothing major, just a busted wrist. But, it was the beginning of my next downward spiral. I let all those good habits and hard work get spoiled by bad habits and laziness. My past time became grilling out and drinking beer. I put on 30 lbs. For these last four years, I’ve gotten back in the habit of exercising. Not as much as I should, but at least I’m moving again. But, the grilling and drinking have kept these 30 lbs right where they don’t belong, hanging around my mid-section. I realize now that I haven’t been motivated by being healthy. I’ve just been focusing on losing a few pounds, not eliminating all these factors that are keeping me fat and unhealthy. Poor me, right? Maybe this is just how I’m supposed to be. Tired, sluggish, achy, hung-over, overweight, shameful and guilty because I just can’t do what I know has to be done. Complete failure. Again. (I think I see a pattern here)

I just happened to catch a video my sister posted on Facebook of a broken-down Veteran named Arthur Boorman. (See my last post to view video) By the end of the 5 minute clip, I was literally crying in my garage. Here was a man who was told by Doctors that he would never walk again. As he sprinted down the road toward the end of the video, I lost it. This man literally took his life into his own hands, and basically said f**k you Doctors, I’ll do this myself. 
This man overcame the seemingly impossible. Yet, I’ve let a few pounds and a case of beer stand between me and true health and happiness. Here I am, trying to show Jake that his mother and I live a healthy lifestyle. We don’t sit in front of the TV. We get outside. We run, walk and bike. Then, I put him to sleep at night and have a steak and a beer (or 6). What a f**king hypocrite. Again… guilt, shame, failure. (I think I see a pattern here)
After viewing Hungry For Change, I had ordered a copy of the DVD, Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, the story of Joe Cross. Joe literally DRANK his way to health and happiness. But instead of beer, he drank fruit and vegetable juice for 60 days, rebooting his entire body and ridding it of disease (and about 70lbs).  
The DVD sat on the coffee table for two weeks, still in the wrapper. Jake was lumbering past the coffee table one morning and spotted the box. He uttered two syllables that literally felt like a punch in the stomach. He pointed at the cover and said “DA-DA?”
I had to wonder, which version of Joe did Jake think I looked like!? The fat one, or the skinny one? I owe that boy everything. Those two syllables changed the direction of my life. 
Since then, I have experienced and entire shift in paradigm when it comes to my health, and our future as a family. I don’t just need to change. I HAVE to change.
I lost my Mom at the age of 55 to lung cancer. 55. At 55 years old, Jake will hopefully be headed off to college. We’re working on baby number two. He or she won’t have even graduated high school yet. The thought of me being in the ground by then is terrifying. 
Inspired by Arthur, I started doing yoga a week ago. Yoga is about strengthening and healing the mind and body. That’s exactly where I need to begin. I also wheeled all the beer out of the house. Gone. And today, I begin step two of my very own transformation. I have started a 10 day reboot program, inspired by Joe Cross. I am essentially eating like a Vegan, and juicing at least one meal a day. No meat, no dairy, no refined sugar. Ten days is nothing when you think of the alternative. This program will help reel in my eating habits. Not too mention when I’m done, I won’t have taken a sip of beer for three weeks. Bad habits BUSTED!
Will I stick to my guns this time? There’s no choice. I’m doing this for my wife and son. Most importantly, I’m doing this for me. My self esteem. My confidence. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin for once since I was a kid. I want to meet my children’s children. Finally, I want to look back fondly at the funny fat kid, smile, and wave goodbye. 

What A Little Big Boy!

I can help too, Ma! Now let’s talk allowance…

I’m trying not to be “that parent” that documents every mundane little bowel movement their kid has, and post it as though they’d just taken Gold in the Olympics. But I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t think that every single thing this kid does is REALLY F**KING CUTE!

There’s still approximately a 80/20 time ratio split between Mama and I. Mama, spending ~80% of the time with Jake while I’m at work. I hope that makes sense. I can’t even talk about Math, I’m so bad at it:)
So by the time Daddy/Son day rolls around, I’m stoked to see how much Jake has changed in such a short period of time! His vocabulary is ever-expanding. A friend recommended the Your Baby Can Read  program to us last month. It’s basically a Rosetta Stone for babies. Even spending a a few minutes a day with it has made a huge impact. Jake is recognizing words like Hi, Eyes, Cat & Dog immediately upon seeing them. Without prompting, he will either say the word, point to the object, or make the corresponding sound to the word. It’s so cool to see him making those connections! Not to mention, it kills me to hear him say “MMEEOOOOW” with an almost Southern Drawl. So funny.
Our Pediatrician was right again when it came to Jake walking. Mama and I were a slight bit concerned with the fact that he wouldn’t take more than a step or two up until this last month. The Doctor said that once kids realize that they can get somewhere much faster by walking than crawling, they’ll take off. Boy, was he right! It seemed as though one morning Jake literally hit the ground running! Now, he rarely crawls unless it’s for something close by. 
This is all so bitter-sweet. I can not wait to see the story of this little person unfold each day. But it’s a little sad knowing that he’s changing so fast! That’s why I document every mundane little bowel movement…:)
Yes, he still has that same “passy”:)

Bloggin’ Ain’t Easy!

Good Lord, it seems like forever since we’ve talked!
I’ve been too busy dealing with life to sit down and write about it! Again, the 60 to 80 hour work weeks, coupled with Mama J working on my “off days”,  I feel like I have just enough time to eat, poop, and sleep!
Never mind that. Baby J has since transformed from a babbling blob into the semblance of a little person! Random mumbling has turned into a list of almost 40 words used on a repeated basis! Concepts of numbers are starting to click. And for some unknown reason, this kid is a little gear-head!? 
Anything with a motor or wheels is a “vroom-vroom”, and I mean anything! I pulled a pressure washer out of the box. Jake immediate says “vroom-vroom”. The strange thing is, He’d never seen me or anyone else use one. If he’s in a car, he needs to steer. If he’s on Gwampa’s tractor or 4-Wheeler, you have to tear him away from it. 
I am the farthest thing from a gear-head. I pay to have my oil-changed. So it really is a mystery to me. How do our kids develop these interests? Drums and music, I understand. Baseball, I understand. Jennifer Love Hewitt, I understand. Pooping in public, I understand. 
But how in the fudge did this kid pick this up!? Help me out here, parents! 
I’m gonna totally steer this vroom-vroom into the women’s dressing room!

The Power of "DA-DA"

BUSTED you little raccoon!

Jake said the word “Dada” 38 times in a 17 minute car ride, give or take a few. I started counting at 5. 

He wakes up crying out of a sound sleep…”DADA!”
He slams his finger in the kitchen cabinet… “DADA!!!”
I yell “NO JAKE!” when he almost yanks the center speaker off the TV console. His response… “DADA!?!”
He throws in just as many shout-outs to Mama, but I can hear “DADA” from a mile away. 
It’s an amazing responsibility to know that you can be a child’s healer, their voice of reason, and their security blanket, all at the same time. It’s also the warmest feeling you can imagine. 
Go ahead little buddy, Dada’s listening…


It was a typical Daddy/Son morning. Jake and I ate breakfast. We fed the pony (“Honna” in Jake language). And, we went for our morning stroll around “Da ‘Hood”. The weather was perfect. Birds were chirping. All the neighbors waved HI! Jake returned their greetings with a “Hey-O”. 
Our day was going along swimmingly, until… Upon arriving home and retrieving Jake and his accessories from the stroller, I instantly noticed one thing missing. The most important thing. MO’MO!!!! 
My heart raced. Jake looked confused as his head swiveled left to right, searching for his favorite companion. I nearly panicked the moment I knew Jake realized… “WE F**KING LOST ELMO!!!” 
I promised Jake everything would be OK as I quickly transferred him into the car seat. He was fitful and  starting to boil over. We had to retrace our route, and quickly! The thought of some neighbor’s dog defiling Elmo in his fuzzy, red behind made me dizzy. How could I ever explain to Jake how his Dad let that happen to his bestest friend ever!? I let my guard down. Our machine had failed! He would never forgive me, nor would I forgive myself. 
I can’t even EATS without my Mo’Mo!!!
I shoved those thoughts aside as I stepped on the pedal, revving the car up to nearly 15 miles per hour! I prayed that Elmo would return to us, unscathed. My eyes scanned the streets and sidewalks. My senses were on full alert. I refused to lose this fuzzy f**ker on my watch! 
Just then, God himself intervened… I spotted that stuffed little bastard lying on the sidewalk where our last turn toward home would have been! “I FOUND MO”MO BUDDY!!!” I exclaimed to Jake! He yelled out ‘M’MOOOH!” I jumped from the car, after putting it in park of course, and hot-footed it over to the lifeless, little baby-calming aid. I checked Elmo for any signs of forced entry or bird shit. He was in pristine condition. Just a bit overheated from baking on the pavement. Crisis averted. 
It was a quiet, content ride home. Jake was so traumatized from the event that he gulped down a bottle and fell fast asleep with his arm around his best pal minutes after hitting the crib. 
Wait until after 7pm tonight. I think Daddy’s going to gulp down a few bottles himself!:)