First of all, I would like to thank all of the guys that did not have the stones to show me your support by posting a comment. I received many emails and face to face comments about how many of you felt the same way and did the same things; just not where anybody other than the wife could read it. For those of you that demanded a package check, I can promise you that the wedding tackle is still intact and producing plenty of testosterone. Maybe not the same levels Emilee had before she got pregnant, but plenty none the less. But I digress.
Busy news week here at pregnancy central. As you can see, I have taken the poll down. I have done so because those at North Fulton who already know the answer are now logging in to cast their votes. Kinda reminds you of North Korea does it not? Anyway, another series of underground ultrasounds has given us a projected winner. And the winner is....
That reminds me of a story. Just Kidding!
During her underground ultrasound on Saturday morning something showed up, or maybe nothing showed up. Emilee's crack team of ultrasound investigators noticed the gender of the baby! They even tried to show her what was going on but she swears that she couldn't tell what she was looking at. I think she knew long before I found out, but she is sticking to her story that we found out together. Anyway, when I got off of work I came by the hospital so we could find out. We went into one of the open offices and were told the news. We are having a hamburger!
Those of you with an active imagination may already have this little caper solved. For those that don't, I will give you one more clue. If you have a hamburger, you probably don't want one of these.......a hotdog. Yes that is correct; the kid does not have a hotdog. So I will start using the proper pronoun for the occasion and start referring to it as HER. We are told that they (the crack team of ultrasound investigators) are about 95% sure.
Apparently we are having a daughter! Emilee, Jr. I like the sound of that name. Besides, many of the guys who have razed me on here think Emilee is the father anyway, so why not name the kid after her! I am under penalty of death and/or no more nookie if I announce the name. All I can say is it's not gonna be Shaneequa Shaquinta Bozicevich; unless she is black. I mean then we could give the girl a ..... wait a minute! Houston we have a problem!
SO like I said, big week. This news will lead me to all kinds of new topics for this blog. I can imagine writing about:
1. How to properly fit a Chastity Belt...10 tips for new fathers.
2. Is 35 to young to let your daughter start dating?
3. How to properly put the fear of God into your daughter's first date.
4. When is it safe to tell your daughter that boys aren't aliens that were just sent here
to run scientific experiments on her.
5. What am I going to do when she has me completely wrapped around her finger?
I welcome all comments and thoughts on the subject. I am especially looking forward to those that inform me of all the horror stories about teenage daughters. Come on, is it really ever to early to start to worry? I just hope that I survive Emilee for the next 6 months and then I can worry about the trials and tribulations I will suffer from BOTH of them. Did I mention Emilee's mood swings are back?
Stay Safe,
Rob
Ginny is gonna be so happy!!!
ReplyDeleteKel
.......and here are the other five....
ReplyDeleteRule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Rob--here you go. As the mother of two girls, this hangs on my refrigerator. Good luck to you both--you're in my prayers. Love, Lynn
ReplyDeleteRule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rob,
ReplyDeleteI'm just sooo excited for you and Emilee! How wonderful... A Girl! Just so you know, I think you already know that your #1 - 4 will be null and void the second your little angel arrives because that's the moment you will realize that #5 has just happened! Love you both, Jill
Lynn, I am posting that on my fridge too! I was in tears laughing at that. I think I may, with your permission of course, post it as its own special edition blog.
ReplyDeleteGo right ahead......=)
ReplyDeleteAnd as to the question of what you do when she has you completely wrapped around your finger--she will have you wrapped before they even place her in your arms....
Even Bill--who was SO not a kid person--was completely spellbound from the moment Caroline was born; and when we found out we were expecting Cate, he said he WANTED another girl. Never thought I'd see him turn into such silly putty.
Well, you're wrapped around your little girl's finger the moment you bum rush the nurse to get to her because it seems the nurse is treating your new baby girl like a football. As too to her dating, what the hell is that, who the hell said dating is a right of passage, my ass. First punk to have the stones to actually show up at my door, gets a .40 caliber stuck to his forehead until he is safely off the property, for his safety, of course. My solution is simple, keep her so busy with gymnastics, swimming or soccer, that she too focused getting to the Oylimpics to give a shit about boys or she meets a beautiful girl. I'm not letting some dumb ass walking near my daughter for any period of time. They still have convents, right?
ReplyDeleteTwo thoughts here Bubba -
ReplyDelete1. Having been in the rice paddy referred to, considered nuts by a lot of people, and still bothered by the sound of a Huey after all these years, I can fully agree with Lynn's rules and wish you luck.
2, Now you are going to know real pay-back. Just think back to all of the girls you dated and how you treated them. Oh boy. Real pain, huh? Don't worry though, the sleepless nights won't start for a little while yet. You should be good for a few more months.
'Noid
OK...
ReplyDeletethat wasn't a mood swing. You got on the interstate going THE WRONG DIRECTION and made me late for my doctor's appointment. I'm just saying...
but it's ok... it's not like you made me miss my epidural or anything ;)
OMG...LMAO. Emilee, don't mind the comments, his time will come after the baby arrives!!!! I am so posting the 10 rules for my daughter (poor child) it does not help that mommy and daddy were greek (the originators of trouble). Rob you rock, sorry about voting, I had to! Now you have millions of hotdogs to worry about!-Amy
ReplyDeleteYeah. Amy is right. Soon you're gonna be singing, "I wish it had an Oscar Meyer weenie".
ReplyDelete'Noid
That's awesome Rob. Congratulations! Boy or Girl doesn't matter, and I know you feel that way. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a healthy kid is all that matters. God has blessed you and I couldn't be more happy for you both. "I've come for your daughter Rob," just doesnt have the same ring to it as "Chuck" though. You will be fine. Like the previous poster, I am sure you will be fine as long as all the guys treat your daughter the way you have always treated women. God Bless and I am happy for you. MG
ReplyDelete