Monday, February 11, 2008

Getting Ready

The Colonel and I have officially started trying to prepare ourselves for the birth of our child...and in the process, we have turned BACK into children ourselves.

I was the good girl growing up who loved school and tried to always do my best. I graduated in the top 10 of my high school class and was considered one of 11 valedictorians. Although my grades dipped slightly in college, I still graduated with a great GPA. My study skills were excellent, as there was no other option in our household. Mom even went on to become a teacher herself, and she did her best to teach her 7th graders the study skills she taught us.

The Colonel...well, how much more OPPOSITE of me can you imagine? That's him! He went to class so he was eligible for sports. Grades? not important to him, and that's very evident by his report cards. BUT, he's smart! He's very smart...he just didn't get into school.

So, over the last 7 years, whenever the word school or class or math or anything similar comes up, he reverts back to the 16 year old jock and goes into hiding. For a time, he talked about becoming a teacher...but that would require two more years of schooling for him. Weird that teaching others didn't bother him, it was just formal learning for himself that is apparently the devil.

Same thing goes for Sunday School classes at church. It's taken me 7 1/2 years to get him to try out any classes with me.

You can imagine my apprehension at suggesting some parenting/child birth classes. Not only would he have to sit in a classroom, but he's have to talk about embarrassing things like birth and boobs and blood. But, his fatherly instinct must have kicked in because I convinced him to do 3 classes with me -- Infant CPR, Breastfeeding, and an orientation to our hospital (w/ a little childbirthing thrown in).

We took Infant CPR last week, and I really wanted to take a photo of The Colonel giving compressions to a plastic doll, but I didn't want to embarrass him any more. But, he did look very cute doing it! Both of us have taken CPR before, but it's been a while, and we'd never been formally trained on infants. I pray that we NEVER have to use those skills we acquired last week.

Next on our list is the hospital orientation class next week. And a few weeks later, he'll get to learn all about breastfeeding. It took some convincing to get him to agree to that class, but the lady on the phone insists it's a COUPLES class.

We managed to agree to those 3 classes with relatively little pain and arguing. But, there was one more class I wanted him to take with me. A couple at church, who just so happens to be the same family w/ an in-home day care center I really want to use, is teaching a 3 week class on parenting...for parents at all stages of life. It would be a great chance to get to know them better, meet other parents, and, oh yeah, learn something about parenting.

But, The Colonel firmly said no, and then threw a tantrum like a 3 year old would. "What do you think we are, some kind of jackasses?? We're better parents already than most of the idiots out there." "If we have questions, we'll just call your mom. I don't need that."

This went on for quite a while, and the longer it did, the angrier I got that we couldn't discuss this rationally, calmly, and as adults. It almost ruined our entire weekend, but we finally calmed down and were able to talk it out. I told him that we could skip the class, but that I didn't want to rule out all parenting classes going forward. He told me to go read a book. Looks like we have a lot to learn...about acting like adults AND learning about parenting. At least I have experience dealing with tantrums already!

We did more than just argue all weekend. We went to a huge train show (the story of how we got there is another post that I'm working on), The Colonel spent all my money, and then I dragged him grocery shopping to Wal Mart with me. As always, when we're in Wal Mart together, he insists on browsing the toy section. This time he was looking for G.I. Joe stuff for the nursery. We didn't find any, but we did find this...Little Major's first Devil Dog. Ooh Rah!

And, we got the cutest little outfit from my friend Amy...and it's SO soft!


suezque said...

I can't believe how fast it's coming! Wow! That outfit is too cute! :-)

Sheila said...

that shirt is to die for, for sure!

Davi said...

Your husband is funny. He's doing the best he can with all those classes, I'm sure. My favorite book ever(and I would have skipped the rest) is Secrets of the Baby Whisperer. If you have not read it yet, it is the BEST EVER.

The clothes are fun. Dressing boys has been so much more fun than I ever hoped or imagined. Whenever I pass the toy area with GI Joe stuff at target and walmart, I think of you:)

Davi said...

Oh, and also the other best book ever is Sheperding a Child' Heart by Tedd Trip. Sorry for all the unsolicited advice:)

Jayme said...

I love that Major Giggler shirt...I saw a Major Mess bib the other day and thought of you. :)

I didn't take a single birthing class either time I was pregnant. Just somewhere weird I decided to stand I guess. :) I didn't want to take them.

Amy said...

yeah, how fun! i need to get registered for my classes...looking at that tonight actually.

abbagirl74 said...

The little booger will be here before you know it. Great job on getting into all of those classes. I didn't take any and wish I would have. Breastfeeding class will definitely come in handy!

Marge said...

I got that outfit for Micah. It's so soft--you're right! And cute.

Love Bears All Things said...

I have thrice had to take a toddler, turn him or her upside down and slap them on the back when they were choking on something. Its good to be trained in an emergency.
Not everyone parents in the same way. There is a series of books that I like. I can't remember the names right now but it helps to know what to expect at different ages and handle certain situations. I think they start with What to expect in pregnancy, Birth to 6 months. I even used them when I was providing child care for my grands.
Mama Bear