Lil' Papi

I'm a few days late writing a post this week because I've been busy working on the nursery (painting, cleaning, installing a hot tub, etc.). It's been a bit more difficult to do anything in that room since the shower last weekend. The little one received many gifts from our extremely generous family and friends. We now have a stroller, a playpen, and a "diaper genie" (he's the smelliest of the genie clan, and I've already learned he doesn't grant you 3 wishes... though I'm not sure I'd want him to, anyway). We also received clothes, baby monitors, books, blankets, and... more importantly...

LOTS OF RED SOX STUFF!!!

Red Sox onesies, Red Sox warm-up suit, Red Sox plush ball, Red Sox sippy cups, Red Sox welding kit (we might wait 'til he's older to give him that), Red Sox blanket, Red Sox bibs, Red Sox socks - it may be enough to make him the most hated baby in New York. I get teary-eyed just thinking about it.

On Sunday, our little one got his first true taste of the Sox-Yankees rivalry: we brought him to a game at Fenway, and sat in the bleachers.

Jennifer could feel the little one "boo" Johnny Damon and shout "Yooouk" for Kevin Youkilis (it's actually the same feeling). The little one cheered when the Sox hammered the Yankees' pitching, and then openly questioned whether Dice-K is worth $100 million. All in all, it was a very good night - and we think the little one had a great time. It was especially comforting to know that he can't make out the words slurred by the drunken fans.

I'm looking forward to taking him to a Sox game after he's born. It's a good thing he already has all that team gear, though... we ended up spending all our savings on a couple Fenway Franks and a cup of coffee, so we can't afford to buy any more.

What's up, docs?

This past weekend, Jennifer and I went on a field trip. We visited Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan, the hospital where our yet-to-be-named little one will be born. We toured the delivery room (also known as the screamatorium), a postpartum room, the nursery, waiting rooms, bathrooms, elevators, and janitor closets. I must say, I was very impressed. If you're gonna enter Manhattan, this is the best way to do it. Our little one will probably cry at first, as babies do, but he'll likely settle down once he looks around and admires just how spacious the room is.

Unfortunately, though, like most New York buildings, Lenox Hill Hospital does not have a parking lot. So our "labor day" could end up going a little like this:

Jennifer: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Dave: "Hang in there honey. I think I've found a spot! Nope - it's a fire hydrant. Dammit. Lemmie see if there's anything on 3rd Avenue."

Hmmmmm... maybe we should take a cab there instead.

We also checked in with Jennifer's doctor this past week. She says we're having a "textbook" pregnancy, which means the little one's becoming a nerd even before he's born. That's our child, all right.

However, our little nerd does appear to have a wild side. When the doc checked his heartbeat, he kicked her back! She actually was startled by it.

The doc then turned to us, smiled, and asked, "So which one of you was the hyper one?"

Uh, oh. I guess I'll enjoy my sleep while I can.

And the name is...

It's news that we've been itching to tell, but we wanted to wait until today, the 30-week mark of the pregnancy, to reveal it: we have chosen a name for the little one! I know a lot of you have been on the edges of your seats, perhaps not eating for weeks at a time, anticipating this moment. Well here it is... our little one's name is Anderson D. Beaudry.

Yes, I know it's probably a surprise to most of you (sorry, Mom). "Anderson" wasn't even one of our top choices until very recently. Jennifer and I were just going through a list of names online, and we suddenly had a gut feeling about this one. It was calling to us, like the little one was saying, "I want to be Anderson Beaudry." We're very excited about it. Sure, some may think the name's a bit unusual, but there are many reasons why "Anderson" is perfect.

First, the obvious reason - my whole connection to the "Anderson" name. For nearly four years I worked for a fine, well-groomed journalist named Anderson Cooper. He was an inspiration to me, as well as to Jennifer, who still is fascinated by his perfect silver hair. That hasn't changed since I was laid off - we still grab our bowl of popcorn and watch Anderson every night, and the 360 shrine moved with us to Park Slope.

We also liked how proper it sounded, which will help in the future, especially if he follows his mom's footsteps and gets a job on Wall Street. We came close to making "Preston" the middle name, but we decided we don't want our kid to get beaten up that much. Jennifer thinks he could go by the nickname "Andy," but I say that would just make him a conformist.

All in all, we just really like the name. It's Scottish in origin, and while our families are mostly French, German and English/Irish, we still feel a kinship with the Scots and have been longtime fans of their cultural contributions, especially their alcohol and tape. I agree that it may be an unusual name - there are not many people out there named Anderson Beaudry. But Anderson will be a one-of-a-kind kid, so why not give him a one-of-a-kind name? I'm sure our little one will be proud to be one of the few, even if he gets some bruises from the playground bullies.

Oh, and one more thing... before you make any judgements, please check the date of this post. Thanks!

30 is a magic number

It's been nearly two weeks since my last blog entry, and, wow, what a crazy two weeks it has been. First of all, I must say, moving is as much fun as spending a day at the amusement park - a park with a roller coaster that runs off the tracks, a merry-go-round that eats people, and a PA system that's stuck on a repeat of "Mmm-bop." While Jennifer and I love our new apartment, we're trying to deal with some of its quirks - like our kitchen with no counter space, our bathroom with no towel racks, and our radiators with no heat. Well, the heat does work most times; it just decided to shut off a couple days before St. Patrick's Day, during the coldest part of the month.

For four days, Jennifer and I bundled up and sat still on our couch as I burned the rest of our furniture and most of her shoes in an effort to keep warm. The little one, meanwhile, would kick Jennifer mockingly, as he enjoyed the heated shelter of the womb.

(Above: Our bedroom on St. Patrick's Day)

Our landlord, who lives on New York's tropical Island of Staten, apologized profusely for the lack of heat and called the gas company to come fix the furnace, saying she'd pay anything to get heat back on. She didn't have to pay much; the problem was with the thermostat, which is locked up in the basement. Turns out the temperature was set too low. So, the repair guy turned it up, but way too high, and for the rest of the week I wore nothing but a Speedo.

After the Great Thaw, I spent a lot of time getting the nursery ready for the big arrival. We unpacked many of the boxes still in there, and cleared away enough space so I could start painting the room. We're making it green and white, like a key lime pie with whipped cream, because we want our child to be hungry all the time. Plus, with green walls in his bedroom, the little one will feel at home when he visits Fenway. It's all part of the plan.

Last weekend we went back to Massachusetts for a wonderful Easter family reunion at my Aunt and Uncle's place in Rockport. There was a lot of food, a lot of laughter, and a lot of "thump-thump-thumps" caused by the feet of my one-and-a-half-year-old twin cousins. It was such a good time, I almost forgot that it was the last day of my youth.

Dawn broke the day after Easter, and I felt a crick in my back. Someone, somewhere, was playing music too loud, and I had a sudden desire to start eating dinner at 4pm. And that's when it hit: I had turned 30.

No longer am I a careless twentysomething. I actually have to take responsibility for my actions. I'm going to be a father! Plus, I'm starting to look too old to get the college student discount at the movie theater. So sad. It's a lot for a person to take, and a weaker man would have spent the day drowning himself in beer and cheap tequila shots. Unfortunately, I couldn't even do that, since I had to drive back to New York.

Jennifer, though, knew exactly how to pull me away from those AARP membership applications. She surprised me with a dinner at Peter Luger Steak House. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Peter Luger's, it's perhaps the best steak in the world. Their German fried potatoes aren't so bad, either. As you can see by the picture to the right, I was a very happy man. Things were looking better.

So, maybe turning 30 won't be so bad. I'm looking forward to a lot of great things this decade - the birth of our child, Jennifer's new law career, my first day as a New York City cab driver. And at least I haven't hit 40 yet. Those people are REALLY old.

That's basically all that's been going on. Jennifer was off this past week, and we got a lot more stuff done around here. We even picked out a crib, so the little one won't have to sleep on the floor, as we originally planned.

Also, on Wednesday, Jennifer finally got word from her doctor's office that she PASSED the Glucose test! Now, all she has to do is pass the bar. I'm sure that will be just as easy.

On the juice, part 2

Jennifer did it! She guzzled down the infamous "Glucose Drink."



And, much to the disappointment of many, she gulped it down with ease, saying it didn't even taste all that bad. She did feel queasy a little bit after that, but we're not sure if that was caused by the drink, or by the subway's "ultra-express-super-rockin'-stomach-twistin'" train. Jennifer did say one of the drink's possible side effects is vomiting, but that didn't happen. It's a shame, really, since that would have been a lot of fun to write about, especially if she hit some of the other passengers on the train.

The doc says everything is going well. She measured Jennifer's belly, and said "27 weeks (noting the age of the little one), 27 centimeters... that's good." Good? How could that be good? That's metric. Where does she think we are, Canada?!? Our child will NOT adhere to some LAME measuring system that's not endorsed by the United States, Liberia, or Burma! Who's with me on this one? Our little one is going to be 100% red, white, and blue... he's going to be born in America, he's going live in America, and he's going to use Chinese-made toys like every American kid. He's not going to go metric like those nefarious Iranians, North Koreans, or Swedes. Not if I can help it.

So, if our doctor's going to measure Jennifer's belly, it's just gonna have to be in inches. Sure, "27 weeks, 10.63 inches" doesn't have the same symmetry, but anything less would be un-American.

Ain't nothin' like the real thing

Okay, I guess it's time to let the truth be known: the pictures in my previous blog entry don't quite accurately depict our new neighborhood. They were taken inside Park Slope, but not at the most attractive locations. Jennifer was a little concerned that my blog post was giving some of you the wrong impression. She "kindly" persuaded me to show you a little bit of what our neighborhood really looks like. So, I took a couple of shots from our apartment. Here's one:

The picture above was taken from my desk, which faces this window. The view is nothing but dead trees and brownstones. It's tough to look at.

Here's another image:

This is one of the views from what will be the baby's room. Of course, our kid will be too young to appreciate it, and we'll probably move before he starts remembering anything. I will always tell him it was the best bedroom he ever had.

Well, there you have it... the truth about our neighborhood. I would have liked to have shown you more, but I don't feel comfortable walking the streets. They've been unsafe ever since a pack of elephants and a rabid giraffe escaped from the Prospect Park Zoo. I'm hoping things get better before the little one arrives.

A walk in the park (slope)

Hello from BEAUTIFUL Park Slope, Brooklyn!



Jennifer and I arrived at our new apartment on Friday after a dreadful week of packing and moving boxes. Now everything's in our new place, and I finally have the internet up and running. So I figured I'd give you a tour. Here's our new home:



Those of you who live outside of New York City may think this is small, but around here it's a pretty good deal - especially for five grand a month. It's actually larger than the place we had in Greenpoint. We might put a wreath or some bunting on it to hide some of the graffiti. The "It's a Boy!" balloons will also help with that.

Down the street, a job opportunity awaits:



I think my days of unemployment are finally nearing an end. I'm so excited. The picture's a bit blurry because I took it as I was crying tears of joy.

Here's our fire station:



Judging from their own boarded-up windows, they don't seem to be very good at their job.

I really think the little one is going to like it here. We found this playground just a couple blocks from our place:



When the little one is old enough, I'll take him here. He could slide down the dirt and asphalt mounds, or maybe even ride the front loader! It will be so much fun. After that, our baby boy can go to sleep in his own room, which we have already decorated:



I think we'll make that basket his bed. He's going to love it.

Of course, these pictures don't do our new neighborhood justice. Everything looks much better in person. You'll have to visit sometime... though I recommend that you leave your nice pants at home, especially if we go to the playground.