The Finest Joke is Upon Us

Pssst. Hey you... prospective parents. Yeah, YOU. Guess what... everyone is lying to you...

Parenthood is, in fact, one lie after another perpetuated by those "in the club" to those considering membership. When it comes to honest conversations, you're likely to find more straight talk in a timeshare sales pitch.

"You'll fart, pee, puke and poop in front of ten complete

strangers who'll be staring intently at your vagina."

From the act of birthing a child on through college and beyond, it's one fabrication after another. OK, I don't know about college and beyond since I'm not there yet, but given the track record of parenting reality vs. parenting marketing, I'm going to assume it's a continued pack of lies.

The first rule of Parent Club is never talk about Parent Club. Ha! Just kidding. Everyone knows that 75% of what we do in Parent Club is talk about our kids, our way of parenting, other people's kids, other people's ways of parenting and our kids. I've never actually seen the rules, but I'm guessing the real first rule of Parent Club is never tell the whole truth about Parent Club.

Here's a perfect example. The grossest part of parenting is usually advertised as changing dirty diapers. FALSE. I'm not even sure if changing a poopy diaper cracks the top ten list of nastiness in the parenting world. Why don't we find out? Here is my honest take on the top ten grossest experiences in parenthood.

10. Cleaning boogers off of walls - Old, hard, crusty boogers. Smeared on the wall next to the bed. These things are nasal concrete.

  9. Cleaning carseats - Really cleaning the carseats. Covers off. I can't tell you the kind of amazingly disgusting things I've found in the crevices of carseats. No, really, I mean I literally cannot tell you what those things were. They were unrecognizable by the time I got to them. All I know is they were sticky, stinky and utterly nasty.

  8. Picking another person's nose for them - Sometimes baby needs you to go for the gold on her behalf. It's a revolting feeling. Makes the hair on my neck stand up just thinking about it. 

  7. Someone sneezing in your open mouth - Kids have a fascination with the insides of mouths. And they have the uncanny ability to sneeze directly in one when they have it open for inspection. You would think the odds of these events converging would be astronomically low, but somehow it happens. All. The. Time.

  6. Wiping a runny nose on the inside hem of your shirt - Sometimes there just isn't anything else handy. Nothing. Sure, as a parent you should have tissues stuffed into every pocket on your person at all times -- even that useless little coin pocket in your jeans. But one day you won't be prepared. And on that day your child will be a fire hydrant of long, stringy, chunked out snot.

  5. Changing a dirty diaper during/after an illness - This is not the same as changing an everyday poopy diaper. Not even close. The stench and consistency is both unpredictable and unbearable. You'll know it when you change your first one. You'll probably briefly lose consciousness.

  4. Cleaning the bathroom after potty training is over - How do I know that changing dirty diapers isn't the grossest part of parenthood? Because if you have boys, eventually you'll actually long for the days when they were in diapers. How can such little things create so much filth in so little time?

  3. Recovering an old sippy cup that six months ago contained milk - Oh, you finally moved the couch to clean under it? Surprise, there's that missing Mickey Mouse sippy cup out of which she loves to drink her afternoon milk! Spoiler (heh) alert: It's now cheese. The stankiest cheese you've ever encountered. Might as well throw that nastiness directly in the garbage can. The outside garbage can. 

  2. Cleaning up after a toddler that learned how to remove his own diaper - I know he's up from his nap, but I can hear him on the monitor and he sounds like he's entertaining himself in his crib. What a cutie pie. I'll just finish loading the dishwasher before I go get him... Rookie mistake. If you think cleaning shit off of a diapered butt is grand, you'll just love cleaning it out of fingernails, hair, pajamas, pillows, curtains, stuffed animals, walls, crib rungs, belly buttons, ears, blankets...

  1. Catching vomit in your bare hands - Kids don't vomit like adults. There's no moaning. There's no dry heaving. It's all smiles one minute, projectile vomit the next. Strangely, though, there is some parenting instinct that gives you a 1/10th of a second warning. I don't know what it is. Maybe you see their eyes suddenly dilate or the hue of their cheeks alters ever so slightly. Maybe their lips twitch.  Whatever it is, you'll know it. And, reacting faster than you ever have in your entire life, like lightening bolts from Zeus himself, your hands will shoot under your child's chin to form a receptacle for the oncoming deluge. After all, cleaning vomit off your hands is far better than cleaning it out of the shag carpeting. Just kidding! It's not like you actually catch more than half of what exits your retching offspring. Congratulations, you got barfed on AND you have to clean the carpet.

Well, there you have it. Run of the mill changing of dirty diapers doesn't make my top ten list of the grossest realities of parenthood. Truth. I'm sure any parents that are reading this are thinking of several disgusting experiences that I left off the list, too. It's a dirty job for sure. 

Remember this, though, prospective parents: Once your kids are out of diapers, parenting only gets easier. And being a parent is the greatest joy in life. There's some truth in there somewhere. I swear. You can trust me... I'm a parent. 

Big Mac Attack

I recently boasted lamented that I could eat a Big Mac in six bites. The truth is, I've never actually counted how many bites it takes me to finish the sandwich.

So I decided to find out.

Well, it's less than six bites. And that was with very little effort.

Who knows -- maybe if I pushed myself I could finish a Big Mac in one bite.

[Click through for the video.]

This is how the pros do it.

Oh Christmas Tree

I love the smell of pine that fills the house when you have a live Christmas tree. Though, sometimes it has it's drawbacks.

Like when a trillion tiny spiders hitch a ride into your house with the tree.

Below you can see the corner of a bag from a Christmas present that was sitting under the tree. See that sandy dirt looking stuff? Spiders. Lots and lots of teeny tiny spiders. Be sure to click on the picture to see it in it's full sized creepy crawly gloriousness.

And if you really feel like running your nails down the proverbial chalkboard, scroll down to the animated image.

No One Ever Crapped in My Office

Being a stay at home dad pretty much rocks. I get to gallivant around with my kids all day, taking hikes, eating ice cream sundaes, feeding goats -- you know, the finer things in life. I'm my own boss and the only people I really answer to can be wrestled to the ground with ease.

But every now and then, to keep balance in the universe, one of the kids will take a massive shit on my mother-in-law's brand new carpet and then track it around the entire room for good measure. We wouldn't want me getting too comfortable in this job now would we?

Can't Stand the Heat

My cousin Curt's fajita salad was too spicy for him. His solution: Drench it in ketchup.

I like ketchup and all, but... as salad dressing??? No thanks.

I Dare You to Touch It

I found this hungry fellow roaming my tomato garden. He's now the prime suspect in the destruction of two of my tomato plants.





Luckily, I recently learned a technique for on the fly macro photography. (Check out this cat's work.) Turns out there's a very simple way to achieve a macro effect. Simply remove your standard kit lens on your SLR and flip it around. Hold it tight against the camera body and -- voilà! -- macro photography!

It takes some trial and error, but check out these nasty awesome pictures!

Peace, Love and Roasted Marshmallows

Labor Day weekend is when my extended family holds its annual family camping trip. Supposedly (I don't know who's doing the record keeping), next year will be the 25th such trip. It's probably my favorite family event. Making fires, playing euchre, drinking beer and eating hotdogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner are all activities that are in my proverbial wheelhouse. With it being the 25th anniversary and all, I'm expecting all Murphys to be in attendance next year so you can pretty much assume that I'm looking forward to it as of right now. I'm guessing that altogether next year we'll occupy no less than twenty campsites.

With Darwin only being 12 days old, we decided against partaking in the camping this year, but we did make day trips down to the campground on Friday and Sunday. The kids had an excellent time and we felt bad taking off for home both nights. Next year, we'll do the real thing.

Staying dry was one motivation for skipping the overnight tent accommodations. There was ample rainfall Sunday morning and more than a couple campers (and their gear) got soaked. We didn't totally escape the water, though. While we arrived after the rain had stopped, there were copious amounts of standing water for the kids to explore. And by explore, I mean dive into. There was too much water to realistically keep the kids out of it, so I just gave in and accepted the fact that I was going to be dealing with very, very dirty children all day. It was worth it simply for the fact that this may have been the single greatest day of Truman's two years of existence.












The remainder of these photos were taken by Jameson. I always like to get his (three feet off the ground) perspective on things. The first photo, with all the chairs in the circle, is pretty much what comes to mind when I think of our family camping trips. Lots of chatting, story telling, joking and catching up.

The More You Know

Hey, kiddos! It's time for Learning with James!

Today's topic: the wonderful world of cervical dilation*

This is a sexual education class that will cover many mature topics. If you have not turned in your permission slip signed by a parent or guardian, you may not participate in today's discussion. Please leave immediately. You are free to explore any other blog until lunch when you may rejoin your fellow students in the cafeteria.

Now for the rest of you - let's start talking about the cervix!

Madam Cervix lives in the lower, narrow portion of the Uterine Dormitory (i.e. "The U") just past where Miss Vagina hangs out. Madam Cervix is a tough broad that acts like a bit of gatekeeper to The U. Most days of the month she does her best to keep any undesirables (namely the boys from Sperm State) from gaining access to the unsuspecting girls that take up residence in The U. Occasionally though, she lets down her guard (usually after a few glasses of red wine -- she's a bit of a lush) and some unsavory gentlemen sneak past her. Often times, this leads to a sudden increase in church attendance, an uncomfortable conversation with someone's father and/or a wedding involving a smoothbore gun for firing small shot at short range.

Now let's get a little more technical about cervical dilation.

In the later stages of pregnancy, the cervix may already have opened up to 1-3 cm (or more in rarer circumstances), but during labor, repeated uterine contractions lead to further widening of the cervix to about 6 centimeters. From that point, pressure from the presenting part (head in vertex births or bottom in breech births), along with uterine contractions, will dilate the cervix to 10 centimeters, which is "complete." Cervical dilation is accompanied by effacement, the thinning of the cervix.

General guidelines for cervical dilation:
*Latent phase: 0-3 centimeters
*Active Labor: 4-7 centimeters
*Transition: 8-10 centimeters
*Complete: 10 centimeters - Delivery of the infant takes place shortly after this stage is reached (although the mother does not always push right away).

Symptoms
During pregnancy, the os (opening) of the cervix is blocked by a thick plug of mucus to prevent bacteria from entering the uterus. During dilation, this plug is loosened. It may come out as one piece, or as thick mucus discharge from the vagina. When this occurs, it is an indication that the cervix is beginning to dilate, although not all women will notice this mucus plug being released.

Bloody show is another indication that the cervix is dilating. Bloody show usually comes along with the mucus plug, and may continue throughout labor, making the mucus tinged pink, red or brown.

The pain experienced during dilation is similar to that of menstruation (although markedly more intense). Most of the pain during labor is caused by the uterus contracting to dilate the cervix.

Got all that? The cervix is going to open up and thin out so this baby can be born. In other words, it's like hand-tossed pizza dough with a hole in the middle of it. As it keeps getting tossed in the air, the dough is going to thin out and the hole is going to get bigger and bigger, until, Mama Mia! Eetsa baby!

So where does Julie stand right now? One centimeter at last Thursday's doctor visit. Lots of painful contractions and cramping the last couple of days. No sign of any bloody mucus plugs.



*Cervical dilation information courtesy of Wikipedia and my wife's thoroughly familiar doctor. Bad pizza dough analogy -- all me.

Tick Tock Tick Tock

There is still time to guess the baby birthdate, weight and sex. But not much time. We're in the home stretch now. Julie is having contractions nearly every day now. She's tired most of the time but gets sudden bursts of energy to complete tasks like reorganizing all the children's clothing in the house (i.e. nesting). The nausea that has been absent since the first trimester has subtly returned. She claims that the baby has moved from crowding her lungs to crowding her bladder. This party could get started any day now.

Here's where the betting has trended as of this morning:

Birthdate: 9/3/09
Sex: Female (by a ratio of 5 to 3)
Weight: 7 lbs. 4 oz.

Some of you have asked what's in it for the person who wins the guessing game. I thought long and hard and I've come up with a pretty stellar selection of prizes from which the winner can choose:

Prize #1: Baby Name. That's right. I'll let you name the baby. (I still need to run this one by Julie, but I'm sure she'll be cool with it.)

Prize #2: Baby Diaper. You can have the first one (of thousands) that I'll be changing. For those of you not in the know, the first one will not be filled with poo, but rather with meconium. Some people believe this mythical substance can grant magical powers like invisibility or the ability to fly. (Not sure if you have to rub it on your face or eat it or what. You'll have to let me know how that works out.)

Prize #3: All Inclusive Two-Week Vacation. Vacation to my house that is. And all inclusive as in changing diapers and feeding babies that is. What?! That's not a prize?! Like hell it isn't. Just think how much more you'll appreciate your tranquil life after you've spent two weeks at ground zero. Money can't buy that kind of zen-like like enlightment.

Prize #4: Stuffed Rabbit. This is no ordinary stuffed bunny. This thing is four feet tall, weighs thirty pounds and has spent the last two years in a musty, unfinished basement. Ol' "Fluffy" has been gifted and re-gifted so many times that this is actually the third separate occasion that it has been in my possession. What does this have to do with the baby? Nothing, really. I just want the damned thing out of my house. If you choose this prize option, you pay shipping and handling, but the asthma inducing mold and any stray spiders are included at no extra cost.

Prize #5: My Beard. The beard is coming off once the baby is born, so what better way to celebrate your victorious prognostication than with my actual beard. It will be packaged in a genuine Ziploc storage bag and would look lovely mounted above your mantle next to your deer rack and large mouth bass.

Contest open to all legal U.S. residents (including Obama). Limit one entry per person. Not valid with any other coupons or offers. Prizes subject to change without notification. All decisions are final.

Click on this image above or the one to the right to guess the baby's birthdate, weight and sex. The "winner" will be the person with the closest guess to the actual birthdate and with the correct sex. Closest birthweight breaks any ties.

Not That Kind of Cox

I almost forgot. Cox Arboretum is also a great place for teenagers creepy old people to make out in public.

Warning: NSFL (Not Safe for Lunch)

OK, if you're about to eat or are particularly squeamish, turn back now. I'll post some cutesy kid photos later and you can pretend this post never happened. Seriously. Stop reading.

Different strokes for different folks.

People do a lot of things that I might consider crazy, but hey, to each their own. I'm not going to judge you. I'm not going to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. Willing to pay a spa hundreds of dollars so you can stick your feet in a bucket of flesh eating little fish? Enjoy! Want to get a tattoo of a penis on your forehead? Go for it! Thinking about growing a lame ass beard for no apparent reason? More power to you! (Seriously, more power to you. Because growing a beard is effing rad.)

But just because I respect your right to do the allegedly absurd doesn't mean I won't dry heave at the mere thought of your actions.

Like, say, the act of eating placentas.

It may sound crazy, but placenta (or "afterbirth") eating isn't, by any means, a new idea. It's a traditional practice in some cultures. Placentas have also been used in ancient Chinese medicines since, um, ancient times. And cows have been down with eating their own placentas for years (and not just the hippie cows, either). So, this isn't some trendy "I drive a Prius and eat placenta" fad -- there's actually some history to it.

By the way, for those of you that don't know (I didn't know before Jameson was born), the placenta is this big organ thingy that grows inside pregnant mammals and pumps all the life juices from the mom through the umbilical cord to the baby. Once the baby is delivered, this organ has to be delivered, hence the name "afterbirth." Take all the beauty and splendor and miraculousness of a brand new baby and then think of the exact opposite. Then dunk it in blood salsa. That's the placenta.

Well, for whatever reason, I've seen this topic discussed a few times recently. At first I thought I dreamt this all up as a result of drinking and watching too much Man vs. Food and Dr. G: Medical Examiner. It's very real, though. Technically, it's called placentophagy. The people that do it typically believe the placenta provides nutritional value and/or prevents postpartum depression. In my three and a half minutes of Yahoo! searching, I couldn't find any medical research that supported these claims. My own personal and very scientific research on the matter has shown that, in person, a placenta looks like a Louis Vuitton handbag made out of a horse's spleen and heart and I would rather eat nothing but peas for every meal for the rest of my life than take one bite of a placenta. (But Julie, I'll give you twenty bucks if you eat yours.)

For those of you that haven't already passed out, thrown your laptop out the window or switched to watching two girls, one cup, then you can further dive into this topic with the links below. And for those of you that like to eat placenta, good for you. You're gross. But you're gross and doing your own thing.

Time Magazine: Afterbirth: It's What's for Dinner

BBC News: Why Eat a Placenta?

For those of you who just want to see what it's like to cook one of these bad boys, enjoy the following video.

Road Trip

Mom is headed off to a wedding shower today, so Dad is packing up the kiddos (and enlisting the help of Uncle Kip and Cousin Curt) and heading down to Cincinnati to check out the new dinosaur exhibit at the Museum Center at Union Terminal. They have a dozen or so life size animatronic dinosaurs on exhibit. It should be pretty nerdtastic. There's also the chance that it will be terrifying for the kids and will psychologically scar them for life. Let's hope for the best.

I think the person who should be most worried, though, is Curt. Curt is one of our favorite cousins and we often invite him over to play. He is single and childless (that we know of) but lately his visits have forced him to dive into childcare waters.

On a visit a few weeks ago Curt came over to help move some furniture and he was unexpectedly thrust into parent life. Jameson had to go "number two" and insisted that Curt was the only person that could clean him up. I'm sure Curt felt honored that Jameson thinks so highly of him. As Curt put it, "I came here to move furniture and I end up wiping someone's ass." Thanks for being such a good sport, Curt.

A few weeks later Curt was over to watch our friend Candace on the premier of Survivor. Julie was at karate practice so it was Curt and I with the kids. Just as the opening credits began, Amelia projectile vomited about a gallon of noxious liquid. I scooped up Amelia and ran her up to the bathtub and Curt graciously cleaned up the barf. Again, not on the list of things Curt planned to do that day. Thank goodness for DVR technology.

So, thank you, again, Curt. If you know him and his anti-germ lifestyle you'll understand what a big deal this is. My hats off to you. Even if it hasn't been by choice, you have become quite capable at handling the three and under crowd.

Now the question is, what form of disgusting mess will Curt be intimately involved with today? Answer in the survey to the right.