Evelyn Want FOOD.

When your wife becomes pregnant, everything is now about her. Her body, her feelings, etc etc.

This a very good thing, and I’ll tell you why.

I can’t pretend to speak for all partners of pregnant women out there, but as a husband, making everything about my wife is an understandable but somewhat disappointing realization. I want a bigger part in this whole experience; I want to know what things feel like; I want to talk to the baby all the time; I even want to share in the morning sickness and back pain so she doesn’t have to do it alone.

I want foot massages whenever I please.

Despite all that, I understand that this transition is about us, not about me. For the time being, this whole transformation into a family is physically only happening to her. So, I decided that the best way I can help develop this bond is to become the Food Nazi Curator for the household so the baby can get the best nutrition possible. I also [secretly] decided that if Evelyn ate what I told her, we wouldn’t get stuck with the daily “what do you want for dinner?” discussion.

(…but seriously, food is probably the easiest way to support a pregnant wife, right? You get appreciation in all the ways you want, and you help guide the baby’s physical development without actually carrying it…)

For the first trimester, I had it all planned out: I read up on everything. Healthy smoothies… 8 servings of fruit/day… Kale… So one day I decided to be nice: I went to the grocery store, got some real good food, and made a strawberry banana shake! She took a sip.

“OMG THAT’S DELICIOUS!”

She liked it so much that halfway through she decided to puke it out and the rest went down the drain. Hours were now lost slaving over a hot blender! You know what else she ate that day?

Saltines. After all my research, all my groceries, all she could eat was saltines?! This went on for 3 months! Evelyn’s morning sickness had progressed into afternoon and evening sickness, and there was nothing I could do. She robbed me of this opportunity to help! Okay Neil, calm down…

The second and third trimesters were much better, although Evelyn had her cravings. Not anything insane, but there were a lot of meals comprised solely of oranges. If she didn’t have oranges, she RAGED OUT. If I suggested anything else, she’d give me the look. You know the one.

We ate healthily about 4.5 days a week. Don’t judge me, and certainly don’t judge her. It’s not our fault that this goddamn baby wants oranges and garlic fries. My food curation exercise was a failure!

Instead of crying myself to sleep, I pivoted. Now, instead of healthy foods, this baby is going to taste as much truly good food as possible. There are many studies that show babies can taste what a mother eats even as early as 16 weeks! I’m now determined that our little girl is not going to be a picky eater. Spicy foods, sour foods, kimchi… Our baby must try everything.

I’m not sure if there’s a lesson here. If there is, it’s that you can’t let ideals get in the way of a relationship. There will be plenty of time being the dad when the baby comes.

In these final days before our girl is born, all Evelyn wants is the good stufffffff. Cookies. Ice cream. Chips. Yes, we still eat healthy foods, but all bets are off when it comes to what the baby wants. Hell, if she wants McDonald’s breakfast, SHE’S GONNA GET McDONALD’S F*CKING BREAKFAST.

Neil and Evelyn’s DaY-O-fUn!

Year Zero

For our Semi-Annual DaY-O-fUn, Evelyn planned everything and convinced me that this was going to be the BEST DAY-O-FUN YET.

9:30 AM

We went to Bakery Nouveau and got the crown jewel of pastries, the twice-baked almond croissant. We went home and nom nom’d. DAY O FUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNN!

If you live in Seattle, this is a must-do.

12:05 PM

After that, we found a local nail salon and got pedicures. DAY O FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!

Albeit girly, this is the ultimate in luxury. I recommend it for any occasion: bachelor parties, funeral receptions, you name it. You must go into this knowing that the Vietnamese/Korean women administering the pedicure are talking about you, and are likely grossed out by you. Embrace this, it’s all part of the experience.

1:17 PM

Evelyn has now done everything she wanted to do, thereby marking the conclusion of the DaY-O-fUn. I spent the afternoon watching Bravo with her and delivering foot massages. Awesome…

…DAY O FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN!!!!1!1!!

Lesson of the Day: Enjoy these days together! A day of Bravo is still a day of fun with my wife. I’m gonna miss lazy days like this.

Also: Is it hard for anyone else to know whether or not Ryan is sincere with his proposal on Million Dollar Listing? He’s just so disingenuous…

Random Thoughts on Pregnancy

Year Zero

So I think I should sprinkle in some serious thoughts today. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself. My name is Neil and I will very soon be father to a child. The child is going to be a girl, and I think she’s going to be AWESOME. Of course, I will be more awesome than her because I raised her, but that aside, she’ll be pretty cool. I think the current emotions as a future parent here are:

Excited
Overjoyed
~~FUCKING FREAKED OUT~~ Anxious… but it’s not too anxious.

Anxiety is probably the best word I can use around non-parent friends because anything more than that (i.e. dread; fear; envy of people with less responsibility) will bring on the cock-eyed looks that you must be crazy. There’s some Stepford-ish perception that having a kid should disallow any feelings of doubt or doom, and that you’ve made a mistake if you’ve felt this way.

I think of having a pregnant wife is not unlike skydiving. I’ve gone skydiving before and it’s one of the most sobering and exhilarating experiences of my life. It’s still very vivid in my mind: the adrenaline, the thrill of going up in the plane… And then I looked out and momentarily thought, “A sane person would not do this. I am not sane. I am stupid, what the fuck am I thinking?” There’s no stopping it, and I’ve gotten into something that I can’t get out of.

Then I jumped.

Although terrifying, that’s only one emotion among many that speed through my brain. In fact, the only difference I’ve felt between skydiving and having a pregnant wife is that there isn’t any adrenaline.

There really isn’t a tangible happy ending to this story yet because we’re still about 2 weeks away from our due date and all I see is a very pregnant wife getting just as fucking freaked out anxious as me. All I know is that all these feelings of doubt are orbiting around the bigger feelings of happiness and warmth, and the comfort that what I’m doing is going to be fun, exhilarating, and bring Evelyn and I closer together. The feelings I’m having are normal, and you’re all just assholes for judging.

Especially you. You know who you are.

To lighten the mood, here’s Evelyn hatching an evil scheme:

Lesson of the day

lessons, Year Zero

Lesson of the Day! If your wife is pregnant, you need to take the load of everyday life off her. This includes everything physical. Picking up the poop and taking out the garbage are typically MAN things, but shit guys, you gotta do as much as you can – laundry, dishes, dinner, or even the really annoying middle-of-the-night-glass-of-water. Today was a typical scenario. I’ve explained to her time after time that I didn’t want Evelyn to do laundry. Guess what she did:

Yup. Laundry. Dammit.

Lesson:

People who need assistance don’t always want it. If they’re resistant, be sure to show them who’s boss. Make sure she needs to ask for help. For example:

That’ll show her.