3 weeks to Charlie!

First of all, for any readers who don’t already know (probably not too many), BeanBerg’s unofficial name (but more official than “BeanBerg”) is Charlie, or, to be more eloquent, Charles Allen.  He takes the name from the men of his ancestry.  On Jean’s side there was Charles Smith, a couple generations back, and my father’s dad was Charles Sandberg.  The middle name is mine, and my father’s, and it is my hope that in giving it to our son, we will start a little family tradition.

Second, for readers who were not avid watchers of M*A*S*H (probably most), this post is a little joke between Jean and me…  We play DVDs of TV series while we work out (by “we” I mean Jean), and not too long ago the show of choice was MASH.  There is one particular eposide in which an incompetent Korean pilot keeps unsuccessfully bombing a munitions dump that has been placed next to the surgical hospital.  The camp starts a betting pool on how far he’ll be from the target.  They also dub him “5 o’clock Charlie” because he always flies over at 5pm (I don’t know where the “Charlie” comes from).  Anyway, to get to the point, as the hour approaches, they make announcements like “5 minutes to Charlie”…   So today, we are at three weeks to Charlie.  Get it?  (I know: it was a long way to go, and I know it probably wasn’t worth it, and no, I can’t get you that 90 seconds of your life back!)

Last weekend we had a baby shower.  None of our friends had seen our new house, so it was sort of a house-warming party too.  It was fantastic.  Everything was taken care of by our good friends Elisabeth, Chrissy, and Jen.  They are all excellent planners, and Jen has a one-year old of her own and is expert in all things new-motherly.  We had a baby onesie decorating contest (as opposed to adult onesies, I guess).  Jen put together a fancy high-tech set-up with computers and a wireless printer that allowed people to grab stuff from the internet and cut and paste and – abracadabra - we had onesies.  Chrissy made cupcakes using the chocolate cake recipe that has grown famous within the Kaiser clan, and they were delicious (I think I ate about 6 myself.)  Elisabeth put together a lunch spread that left nobody hungry.  And of course we got loads of great baby-gear…  It was a really swell time for everybody (shut up…  it’s a perfectly nifty word)

Speaking of baby-gear, today we went on what will be one of the last nursery-room-outfitting-excusions before Charlie arrives.  We went and bought some shelving for closets at a Home Depot type store, and then a cart-load of baby-specific stuff at Babies-R-Us.  The juxta-position of the two stops amused me…  At the Home Depot, men are walking around with glazed looks, drooling over all the tools and light fixtures and high-capacity-flow toilets, and women are standing around looking bored.  At Babies-R-Us it is the same scene, just reversed.  Of course instead of power drills and long-distance garage door openers, the women are contemplating which of the 27 brands and varieties of baby bedding to purchase.  Seriously, it is both amazing how many different options there are for even the simplest things.  I am proud to say Jean and I were the exception in both stores; Jean made most of the baby cabinetry decisions, and i was instrumental in the choice of diapers (the BIG box!).  No stereotypes for us; we’re all about the 21st century!  (Though I did regress when it came to a baby-monitor; I wanted to go with the digital audio and a remote control, full color, 4-directional pan camera – with zoom)

As we near the end of the pregnancy, things are going well.  It’s been a hard 8 months for Jean, but health-wise, which is of course most important, Mom & baby are “perfectly normal” (I usually use that phrase with a bit of disdain, but in this case it is optimal).  Jean is struggling with the usual pains and discomforts of late-term pregnancy, but she’s handling it pretty well.

Of course both Jean and I have occasional bouts of “Holy mackerel…  We’re about to have a baby!” and that can be a bit scary.  I’m guessing that in a year, we’ll still occasionally think “Jeez…  We have a one year old baby”  My oldest brother remarked to me just a few months ago “Wow; my daughter is going to be driving soon!”  But, as they say, one step at a time…  it’s good advice for 1 year old babies, 16 year old new drivers, and the freaked-out parents of both.