I made a television appearance today on NBC’s morning show in San Diego. The appearance was to promote the Fashion Show fundraiser that I have been planning for months. I was interviewed by weather man Whitney Southwick (I’m assumming that’s not his real name) and everything went well. I even survived waking at 4:30 a.m. to get to the studio by 5:45 a.m. I’m told I looked awake and alert on the air - I’ll have to take their word for it as I’m surprised that people were even up that early watching television.

The cool part was that I got to wear my new lavender shirt with pink and lavender tie. It’s not easy looking this good.

Today, while standing in line at Target to pay for the Men’s XXL t-shirts I had chosen to properly hide the underside of Andrea’s equator - I mean belly - I noticed a very small baby in it’s infant carrier perched on the cart in front of me. He looked to be just a couple weeks old and was so cute with a shock of black shaggy hair on top. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. It was yet another reminder of my impending parenthood.

I tried to be discreet because I could sense the mother’s nervousness of having a man she didn’t know smiling at her child. What she doesn’t know is that whenever I see a small child it reminds me of what’s to come for me and that I daydream about how I will be as a parent in similar situations. For one moment I am reminded that, very soon, I will have the same responsibilities, the same joys, the same frustrations that this person, who I don’t know but am somehow now connected, feels. It is then that I try to make eye contact with the mother and smile - trying to let her know that I know her secret of how great it is to be a parent. I want to tell her “Don’t worry! I’m not looking to kidnap your child - I’m just envious that I don’t have my babies with me yet.”

In a larger sense, it’s sad that my children will be born into a society that makes women wary of strange men around their children. I imagine women don’t get the same response in similar situations. Maybe someday men will get credit for being just as nurturing and capable of loving a child as a woman. At least I know in my family it can start with me.

When scanning the list of history’s worst jobs ever, I was surprised to find that Ditch Digger wasn’t one of them.

I am so surprised because I spent the better part of my day digging a ditch. This ditch will, one day soon, hold a drainage pipe that will usher the water that currently runs down the downspout from the gutters and up against the side of our house out expediently to the street.

Digging this ditch seemed like a good idea when I first thought of it. It seemed less of a good idea after shoveling a mountain of dirt (and rocks… and clay… and cement) for more than 4 hours. I had my trusty jackhammer with me once again. I don’t remember the jackhammer being so damn heavy last time. Perhaps it was because I only had to break up one measly step last time and not dig a 50-foot, 13-inch deep trench.

Now, my back is sore, my forearms feel weak and the last thing I want to do is dig. But dig I must. You see, there are other projects to finish and I have a deadline of the middle of June.

Babies, please don’t be early!

My Pile ‘O’ Dirt

The trench to end all trenches

Next week my YMCA is hosting a Fashion Show on the rooftop terrace of the Westgate Hotel in downtown San Diego. I have never been to a fashion show - However, I have been planning said fashion show for what seems like an eternity. My only thought now, is PLEASE let this week go by fast.

My entire work day is consumed by fashion. In the past month I have arranged for the poodles in the show to be tinted purple (I’m not kidding), sat at the hotel while they presented the menu only to hear the really rich woman who is helping us change the entire menu that the award-winning, five-star chef had prepared for us. I have also made traveling arrangements for Brody Hutzler who plays some guy on Days of Our Lives as he will be a special guest. I have also traded emails with Miss California 2005 and Miss USA 2005 Runner-up Brittany Hogan (no, you can’t have her email address) as she has graciously offered to be there as well.

I can’t wait to get back to managing my staff and actually focusing on my YMCA. But first, I have to go shopping. It seems I need a lavender-pastel shirt with a spring/floral tie for the event.

It takes hard work to look that good.

We moved into our new housing development almost exactly a year ago. Our neighbors, while seemingly nice people, have not become good friends. However, we are friendly with each other and make small talk when we see each other in front of our houses.

The couple to our right we see all of the time. I have learned that, while they are not married, they both work for the same company. He has a child from a previous marriage. A few months ago they shared with me that she is pregnant with their first child. As Andrea and I are expecting it has been nice talking to our female neighbor about her pregnancy and comparing notes on nausea and other symptoms. So when I saw her today, I noticed that she’s starting to show. I commented on her belly and we began to make small talk about Andrea, her pregnancy and our house landscaping plans. She then turned to me and said, “So, I guess you figured out that “Harry” is gone.”

I hadn’t noticed. As I looked at her in disbelief I didn’t know what to say. She started to cry and she told me that he just told her that “he had fallen out of love” with her and had left. As she glanced at her growing belly, she commented on the “bad timing” and, as she took a deep breath, said “I have to be strong.” Unable to give her more than a “I’m so sorry”, I gave her a hug, my phone number and told her to call us if she needed anything.

As I left her, I was in shock. I started to think about the bastard who left and anger swelled inside. What kind of man leaves a woman who’s 20 weeks pregnant with his own child That’s just it - he’s no man. He’s a child who likes to play with his big boy toys and runs when reality impedes with his fantasy life. My neighbor deserves better.

I came home and kissed Andrea and her belly. Some guys recognize just how lucky they are.

We had our monthly ultrasound yesterday to make sure the twins are growing the way they should. Two significant events happened in the past month.

First, J.T.’s testicles have dropped. The ultrasound technician made sure to point that out and even printed a picture with a little arrow pointing to them. (I’ll post the picture if there’s a demand) I have to admit, I felt a little pride there. I’m not sure why, but hey, my boy has testicles so it’s all good.

Second, we have been told for months that the only way our OB will deliver the twins vaginally is if at least one is head down and that they are both about the same size. The last few ultrasounds have confirmed that we were doing good - both were near each other in weight and both were head down. So, imagine our surprise when the technician casually mentioned that BOTH of them were heads up. The little rascals had managed to turn around. And now there is little possibility of them turning back due to the crowded conditions.

I have this image of one of them figuring out how to turn around and then showing the other how to do it. I also imagine that this won’t be the last time that something like that happens. I can see it now - one of them learns to do something really dangerous and quickly teaches the other.

We’re in trouble, aren’t we

Okay, maybe being able to watch all the Giants baseball games via the Internet wasn’t the greatest of ideas. Not when I have to watch the Giants implode in the ninth inning against the Dodgers. I mean, if you’re the defensive replacement in left field, you’d better catch the ball when it comes to you.

*Sigh*

Lately, I’ve had a couple of instances that put my late-night thinking ability into doubt. First, I’m a fairly sound sleeper so it takes a bit to wake me up. Second, because I’m in such a deep sleep I’m left a bit discombobulated when being suddenly awakened.

For example, as part of my job at the YMCA I work for, I am the person the alarm company calls when there’s a problem at the branch. Of course, problems only occur between the hours of 2:30 and 4:30 a.m. When the alarm company tries to get a hold of me, they first call my cell phone and then, if there’s no answer, they call my home phone. Saturday night/Sunday morning I was awakened by my wife elbowing me at 2:30 in the morning. I heard her say the words, “Honey, your cell phone.” I could hear the distinct ring tone of my cell phone upon which I immediately picked up the home phone and said “Hello, hello” It took me a minute to realize I wasn’t answering my cell phone. Luckily the home phone rang a few seconds later.

Fast forward to last night. It’s 4:00 a.m. and I am awakened by a loud bang. The house shakes and for a split second I’m not sure if we’re experiencing an earthquake or if a car has run into our house. I jump out of bed and my wife tells me, “It’s an earthquake, Honey.” In my still clouded mind I immediately think, “Where are the babies Are they in their bassinet in our room or in their cribs down the hall” Only then do I realize that the babies haven’t been born yet and they are safely inside Andrea’s belly.

For some reason, this has Andrea concerned. She’s convinced that once the babies arrive she’s going to catch me some late night petting the babies and trying to diaper the cat.

Seen today on a bumpersticker…

What if the Hokey Pokey is what it’s all about

My mother has fully embraced the grandmother role. It appears she has made it her life’s mission to make sure her grandchildren never go without clothes. She has visited us twice in the past few months and both times she has brought the red suitcase.

The red suitcase is a Samsonite hard-shell suitcase that we’ve had as long as I can remember. Of course, my Mom has newer, more contemporary bags but the red suitcase is special. It’s special because my mother packs all her baby supplies in this bag when visiting us. It’s always a good sign when we’re waiting at the luggage carousel and the red suitcase comes plopping out onto the conveyer belt. It’s the surest sign that J.T. and Brianna will be clothed for another six months.

My mom loves hats and socks. Our children will always have warm heads and toes. Never mind that we live in an area that never gets below 60 degrees. The babies will be warm should San Diego ever get hit with a freak snowstorm. You can thank my mother for that.

I’m hoping we’ll see the red suitcase for the next 18 years or so. I hear teenage clothing is quite expensive.