Does Road Rage Cross the Placenta?

This morning I had the pleasure of driving into work.  We have a three hour intensive birthing class tonight so Kayla wouldn’t be able to have her normal walks, so I brought her to the office with me today.  

I’ve heard that babies can hear their mother’s voice while they are in utero, and they can recognize that voice as well as words/phrases/songs that they have heard frequently while gestating....  Given that, I feel lucky that I don’t drive to work more often.  Last night, I thought that it would be a good thing -- my music, a little car-dancing, a guaranteed seat, but this morning’s drive in quickly shattered my joy.

Between traffic on the BQE and the southern portion of the FDR, the designed-by-minions-of-evil Manhattan end of the Battery Tunnel, yellow cabs driving with wild abandon across multiple lanes of traffic, trucks driving as if the BQE were some sort of Mad-Max style arena, and other drivers using the right lane as a parking lane …I was white-knuckled with rage and frustration.

I tried to listen to some of my “happy music,” but it wasn’t enough.  Even the beach-bum vibe of Jimmy Buffett wasn’t enough to cut through my rage.  I tried to sing along with the songs but I kept having Turret’s-like outbursts, often mid-song.  So, this is kind of what the Monkey heard:

I really do appreciate the fact you’re sitting here, Your voice sounds so wonderful, but your face don’t look to clear, So, barmaid, bring a pitcher, another round of brew.  Honey, why don’t we get drunk …WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU [redacted expletive]! FOR GOD’S SAKE, LEARN TO USE YOUR [redacted] SIGNALS!

and

Cheeseburger in paradise! Heaven on earth with an onion slice! Not too particular, not too precise … SWEET MARY MOTHER O’GOD, WHAT THE [redacted]?! YOU, SIR, ARE A COMPLETE [redacted, sort of sounds like juice-bug]!

Once I escaped the bit of the FDR that was a parking-lot, I switched to some Billy Joel (or, as we refer to it: The Music of Joel) when I realized that some of my road-rage may be hormotional … as I started to get choked up listening to Piano Man.  In my head, I just kept thinking that it was so terribly sad that all these people were so lonely and their dreams and hearts had been broken and wasn’t Billy Joel based in NYC/Long Island? Ohmygod, NYC has been crushing hearts and dreams for so many years! It’s like some sort of monster that feeds on misery! Noooo!

In fact, I probably would have started weeping except then some jerk in a taxi cut me off and I went back into rage-mode. (Sing me a song, you’re the WORST [redacted] DRIVER I’VE EVER SEEN! WHAT THE HELL KIND OF MANEUVER WAS THAT?)


Like I said, it's a good thing that I don’t drive in the city every day.  I’d hate to think what the Monkey would hear...

Random thoughts at ridiculous hours

Wow. Two months since I've posted. That damn near qualifies as negligent father-to-be. Several random seeds of a new entry had percolated in my oh-so-busy head in that time period, but none of them stuck around long enough for me to get them recorded. And of course, sitting here twiddling my thumbs on an overnight gig, none of them are readily bubbling to the surface, but really I have no excuse not to write, so bear with me as I ramble something out.

One thing that's occasionally echoed through my mind is the pedantically chiding voice representing my late teens, early 20s, quoting my strident declaration that, oh, I'd never have kids 'cause why would I want to bring them into this world? Well, let's face it: fifteen years later, I can't say this world has really gotten much better, and certainly the argument can be made that it's much worse in a lot of ways. But I guess deep down there really are still a lot of good people doing wonderful things, and though elements of our world may be irrevocably damaged and/or damned to utter condemnation, we can still carve out a happy, loving, [mostly] satisfying existence. Hence (partially) the plan for an eventual exodus to the Green Mountain State. Nothing personal, you good people we know and love in New York, but Ray LaMontagne and James Murphy, among others, have written lyrics attesting to the city's unsustainability in terms of mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

And of course, as cliché as it may sound, the desire to have children increases umpteen-fold when you meet the right person, and a child (or children) is the natural result of the love created by that union. Awwwwwwww.

If I may be slightly immodest for a moment, I also feel somewhat like Amanda and I--as fairly/comparatively intelligent, moral, funny, loving, cultured, talented, hard-working representatives of humankind (she's got me beat by a long shot on pretty much all those counts)--owe it to the country/planet/humanity to contribute what I can only hope and assume (at this point) will be similarly faceted progeny. I mean, certainly at the very least we'd raise kids who would offer their seat on a subway to an obviously pregnant woman (oooooooh, don't get me started).

A closing thought--because I could probably ramble for a lot longer and shouldn't--it's comforting, even if only in a relatively small way: as my supervisor finally succumbs to utter sleep exhaustion on the couch behind me, I cover her with my coat when she says she's cold. And seeing that even in her fetal position it would not be enough to cover her exposed ankle, I grab my scarf to fill that role. She says, "You're gonna be a good dad." I say small comfort because, oh, if it were only that easy. I guess it's not a bad sign, though.

30 weeks, mostly photos

This past weekend, Z & I went to revisit the Silver Maple Inn (where we got engaged) to have a nice relaxing weekend away.  We figure that with the holidays and the Monkey Bean on the way, it may be the last relaxing weekend we have for a long while....

I was able to set up some photos in front of the picturesque barn door at the inn.  Please forgive any odd hand positions I may have in the ones of us together as I was using the camera remote.  In a quick photography-related note, I'm happy with the general lack of belly-shadow-flash-artifact ... so weather-depending, we may try to do more of these outdoors in the daylight.  This may lead to really odd looks from the neighbors, I suppose.  *sigh*

Stripey front view (Why are so many maternity clothes covered in horizontal stripes?)

30 week side-bump

A wins the belly contest!

Cute family shot including the Shaggamuffin, Kayla-mae.

 I'm sure we'll both have more to say as the time passes.  In the meanwhile, love to all of you from all of us!