Babies Aren't Just For The Fairer Sex.

There's something about having a firstborn boy come into the family. Now that's not to say that girls aren't special too, because they are - with their pink stuff and lace and bows and whatnot. But when the firstborn is a boy, it means you've got a buddy there, someone to go fishing with, someone to shoot the ball around with. Realistically, what it really means is that you've got someone that is stuck with your name. Whether it's Wiener or Rodriquez or Papalooski or Smith - that kid has your brand on him and that means you will carry on. And this isn't to say it's a selfish thing, all this carrying on business,...but it is a primeval thing, something that's in your gut. All the books you've ever read, all the movies you've ever seen - even Lion King for gosh sakes, has the Father teaching the son how to do stuff, how to treat people, and ultimately how to be better than he himself was. So, maybe that's what the whole thing is about-having another chance to be a better person? Pretty profound and possibly preposterous, but one facet of a discussion indeed.
These are pictures of 1/2 of the most important people in Jack's life, the Men: Dad, Pa, Papaw, Grandpa Hunt, and finally "The Man" himself.

Jack is finally born! Details to follow...

7 lbs. and 13oz., filling out 20 1/2 inches of handsome baby boy. He cried immediately and was delivered without problems for him or his Mom. For great pictures of the event, go to www.estprints.com. The pictures are better than any you've seen lately, I promise.
I Praise God for his many blessings. They are abundant and better than I deserve.

We won't need a baby sitter. Thanks.

As a pediatric nurse, I've dealt with alot of abuse situations and they make me sick. I mean puking-my-guts-out, madder-than-heck sick. But this is just plain funny.

Sleepless nights...and Presidents

So, we've been told by many people that "you don't know what sleep deprivation is until you've had a baby..."

To that end, I'd like to launch a complaint. You see, the other night I was awakened around 2am by someone kicking me in the back. Yes, that's right. Kicking in the back. Isn't that good for a 20-yard penalty in football? It was not my wife who was so sweetly curled up behind me: it was my as yet unborn son - Jack! Whacking me good through Leslie's belly! And hard enough for me to feel it. I suppose he's running out of room in there, or he wanted some more space on the bed...
Jeez, I'm ready for the sleepless nights to come after he's delivered, but no one told me that he was going to be running things in MY BED before he was even born. Dude.

And finally, speaking of running things, here's a picture of a possible Presidential candidate from the state of Louisiana.

Doing What You Don't Want To Do

So, I was in my doctor's office a few months ago, and due to a little medical problem that shall go unmentioned here, she tells me that she wants me to have a Kō-lĕn-oś-kō-pē. I responded, "But I don't want to have a Kō-lĕn-oś-kō-pē !" "Well," she says, "then you can go to this specialist and see what he says about it." Confident in the intimate relationship I have with my own body, I decided to do just that. I would show her who needed what.

At my fifth visit to the specialist, he comes in the exam room and says to me, "I can't find anything wrong with you that would cause this problem that you're having. I think you need to have a Kō-lĕn-oś-kō-pē."

Dang it.

My wife, who knows a little bit about these matters agreed with the specialist and smiled that little smile that says, "Sorry dude."

So, I resigned myself to be a grown-up about the whole thing, and have it done. And I did. It wasn't so bad. There were no Sharpie drawings on my posterior, and the whole place wasn't pointing and laughing at me when I came around to consciousness. Whew.

Now for the Rest Of The Story...

The results were normal. Just like I knew they would be - even though having a Kō-lĕn-oś-kō-pē was something I did not want to do.

Marley! Man's best friend? maybe. Loyal to a fault? mostly. Cat chaser? Squirrel chaser? Big Loud Bark? Definitely! Our dog (who's going to become a real live dog again when Jack gets here, instead of "our little girl"...) in all her tongue-wagging glory:

Bloggin' ain't EZ

I'm no computer novice, but I'm no computer-geek either. I'm something in the middle, which means that even something as seemingly harmless as creating this blog has a fair share of bumps-in-the-road to overcome. However, I vow to persevere and put some stuff on the Web that is darn sure interesting. And by the way, here's a funny picture of Leslie and I (or is it me and Leslie?) working on Jack's room.

Sean and Leslie anticipate an Early Arrival...

At our last appointment with our OB doc, we decided to have the amniocentesis on June 29th with a possible delivery that very day! So, Jack may be coming a little sooner than we had originally thought. We're almost done with all of our home improvement projects, and thanks to the heroic efforts of Leslie and Emily, Jack's room is actually organized and in working order.