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Friday, September 19, 2008


She was so gooey.

I knew babies involved goo, and that you kind of signed on for that as soon as you scribbled on the dotted "unprotected sex" line at the bottom of the Doin' It contract.

And I'd seen plenty of movies in which someone, for the sake of their filmic "art", had hosed one down with chicken-jello or something and tried to convince the audience that "Hey, this is a newborn, and not in fact a 2-year-old child that we've spray-painted with chicken-jello!" And there was goo everywhere.

But still, I was a little underprepared for the gooey-ness. She was balling, and wailing, and she didn't quite know what was going on, and she was covered in goo.

She still is, really: Every time her daughter looks up at her and says "ha-ppy" with a great big smile on her face.

Erin's First Six Months (Selection) 011

My wife: a gooey mess.


In my travels around the blog world tonight I noticed that I could enter to win some gift baskets or something. I've been looking for someplace to keep my testicles since I'm clearly not using them, and I thought "Hey, a basket would be perfect. Then I could line it with some of that Easter grass and toss some jellybeans down too so my marbles would look huge."

Well, wonder of wonders, the requirement for winning one of these gift baskets (which actually have stuff in them already, Bonus!) was that I write a post "reminiscing about those new baby days." Hey, I can do that. I can "reminisce" like nobody's business. I reminisce all the time. Like that one time, when I had that sword and invaded two countries in the same night.

But why? Why reminisce at all? I mean, apart from the obvious reason that I can finally have a place to store my balls?

Oh, because some other ladies (I say "other" not because they are "other than my wife" but because I am again comparing my de-testicled self to a woman; and of course I know that there is a lot more to being a woman than merely lacking something that a man has, and no, I'm not going to insert a lame/awesome "like common sense!" joke here, although some people might expect me to and those people are appalling/awesome) are getting ready to get all gooey. Like my wife they will be balling, wailing messes, and some asshat is going to take pictures of them while they're all vulnerable like that. So, to make up for the lack of consideration that husbands everywhere have when it comes to taking pictures in the delivery room, I'd like to participate in the Virtual Shower for Kristen and Rebecca.

Get ready for some goo, ladies.'snotwhatImeant.

Congratulations, ladies. Or, as my wife would say: "I'm not in the panther cage. You're in the panther cage."

But she's ridiculous now that her brains have been replaced by goo. No common sense whatsoever.

(Editor's Note: As my goo-brained wife has so delicately pointed out to me, I don't know the difference between "balling" and "bawling." Or, rather, I don't know how to spell "bawling" when I mean "bawling" and instead I write "balling" which means something different entirely and just isn't appropriate at all for this post here. Gah. Smart wives are the bane of every stupid husband's existence.)


Anissa Mayhew said...

I'd bet good money that you still got a little goo on yourself as well.

Redneck Mommy said...

Funny. I always envisioned your balls the same size as those round, foil covered chocolates in an Easter basket.

Not that I spend much time imagining your balls. For the record.

Nevermind. Clearly I am digging myself a hole here. I'll stop before it gets any deeper.

Here's to new babies, gooey wives and the men who help create both.

Heather said...

I'm not sure who is funnier, you or Redneck Mommy.

Aunt Becky said...

Dude. I love you. Why today? The balls in the basket comment.

You'd better win this damn contest. I want your balls to sit on a fluffy throne.

trademarkmama said...

I'm sorry, but isn't BAWLING something totally different from BALLING?

BAWLING is what I did, admittedly, on the day Erin was born.

But BALLING? That might have been what got us into this mess in the first place. Being a lawyer, I scrutinized the Doin' It contract, and I don't recall seeing anything about BALLING.


Ali said...

hahaha. your wife is awesome. balling vs. bawling. that just made my day.

Shireen D said...

HA! Your wife just called you out. Love it.

Swirl Girl said...

Balling begat bawling which hopefully will not beget brawling.


You're a bawling baller? And awesome for participating in the shower. Love a man who is can join in the festivities. Muah.

Backpacking Dad said...

anissa mayhew: never. rumours to the contrary, I am not a sappy bastard.

redneck mommy: I think you dropped your shovel as you high-tailed it out of here.

heather: me. Did that help?

aunt becky: you and me both.

trademarkmama: way to show me up on my blog when I was being totally sweet to you. :}

ali: my wife is awesome. but not because she calls me a dumbass on my own blog. well, perhaps.

shireen d: yeah she did. I deserved it.

swirl girl: not so far.

girl's gone child: I'll never live that one down. Testicles stowed forever.

Motherhood Uncensored said...

BPD you've got Bawls.

Big ones.


for a different kind of girl said...

Reading about your balls made me weepy.

(Bet you thought I was going to totally say it made me bawl, didn't you? Ha! Oh, I am hi-lar-ious!)

My husband has been trying to renegotiate this Doin' It contract. He wants to add a bunch of riders to it. I could go on and on with this theme, but I feel a little inappropriate now...

Tootsie Farklepants said...

When I read about balls in the basket I picture Cadbury Eggs.

Jenni said...

Oh, I hear that. My son can still melt my heart in a second.

Ms. Single Mama said...

I hope you win. God, you're funny. For some reason, I don't recall the Goo. Maybe because I was the one who spewed the gooey goo ball I was holding.

My goo = his goo, I suppose.