You no longer matter

If you and your friends discuss politics, sports, cigars or business, you won’t any more. Or, you’ll do so a lot less. When you have a kid, people will be a lot less interested in you … but you should know the transformation starts well before birth. Not a conversation will go by without an inquiry as to future-mom’s well-being, how you’re holding up or something else baby-related. Don’t misinterpret this: it comes from a fantastic intent. Your friends give a shit about you, your wife and what will eventually be your kid. There’s no greater sign of support. But, it gets old after a while.

So, you’re faced with the unfortunate task of telling your friends to back off about something that’s incredibly important to you (and them), or you can watch the first sign of lost independence and identity come to pass. The latter really is the way to go, and that’s coming from an intolerant, insufferable prick like me.

It Looks Like the Kid’s Coming Early

There’s a pretty good chance Hunter won’t wait until November 9. I was actually hoping he’d be late: that would have given me more time to prepare (not that I’d make the most of it). The upside, of course, is that this would mean he won’t be born on my holiday (Veteran’s Day), so my fears of having to share it won’t come true. I’m pretty happy about that, selfish though it may be.

To cope with the possibility of an early arrival, I’m taking a week off from day job to get the apartment in order. With few distractions, it won’t be a problem (unless Hunter decides to come very early).

There is one aaspect of an early arrival that interests me — I’ll get to meet my son a bit sooner. I’m really looking forward to that.

Breaking the Silence on UWS Dad

Okay, I haven’t written a damned thing in more than a month (for UWS Dad, that is). Competing priorities, of course, are my excuse. The second half of August and the first half of September were pure living hell at day job. Once that was over, I spent the next month digging out: catching up on other day job stuff, writing for my regular AOL blogs (Gadling, Luxist, BloggingStocks and DailyFinance) and playing around a bit with my other blog (Migrant Blogger). And, I took my last trip before Hunter’s arrival, to Montreal.

Well, now I’m back. I’m going to try to resume some of the regular features I was developing over the summer (such as Babymoon of the Week) and keep you up to speed on my last few weeks of pre-fatherhood. I have less than a month left, and I’m still trying to figure it all out.

Babymoon of the Week: Ardeonaig

Scotland doesn’t exactly seem like a hot spot for babymoons, and the Ardeonaig doesn’t offer all the traditional amenities that you’d find in a babymoon package. But, if you’re looking to hide from the world for a while before your kid changes everything is born, you’ll struggle to find an upscale resort that feels as remote as Ardeonaig.

Like most of Scotland, Ardeonaig is in the middle of nowhere (though I think they call it “Loch Tay”). While there are some guestrooms in the main building, I suggest that you stay out in one of the luxury huts on the grounds. They are enormous, comfortable and, if you’re lucky (as I was), next to a small but fairly loud stream (loved it).

Stranger in a strange land

It doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to understand why I feel like out of place in all these baby stores. I’ve never really been to them. Most of my friends either were fathers when I met them or they aren’t fathers yet. For my wife’s friends, my wife did the heavy lifting. This had left me blissfully unaware of the contents of places like Buy Buy Baby. So, when I had to dive into these retail establishments for the first time (which wasn’t all that long ago), it was a hell of a shock to my system.

I always understood that there were large stores dedicated to selling shit for kids. I could reason through what was in them. But, to walk into one for the first time is jarring. You realize just how much shit it takes to have a kid. How the hell did the cave men do it? They’d just go slaughter a woolly mammoth and cook it up. I have to navigate infinite varieties of stroller and diaper bag. There are items of clothing for which I don’t know the names. The brands are totally foreign to me.

Got my first dose of reality last week

Last week was tough. I don’t think it’s anywhere near as difficult as my first few weeks with Hunter will be, but it did give me a sense of how a small change from my carefully constructed routine can make it difficult to maintain my stride. But, I pulled through it, leading me to believe that I may be in better shape than I thought.

I was getting ready to head out to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho for a press trip. I was looking forward to covering the destination, and I was fully aware that it would be one of my last trips before UWS Mom clips my wings. Then, I got a phone call that prompted me to cancel the trip and dash up to Connecticut on an unexpected family matter. It was no problem to go (and, I was pretty happy to be able to do so), and I spent the next four days up there.

Babymoon of the Week: The Village Inn of Woodstock

The Village Inn of Woodstock offers seclusion … how can it not? It’s in Vermont! The “Babymoon over Vermont” package includes breakfast every morning, massages for both parents-to-be (dads get some recognition!) and a $100 gift certificate to Simon Pearce for use in the restaurant or retail shop. And, you can stay in Room 1, 3 or 5 (if you make it a two-night trip.

I wasn’t sure what it meant to stay in these rooms until I went over to the site and took a look:

Your time is no longer your own

Yep, you read that headline and think, “No shit. Having a kid consumes your life.” That’s true, but that’s for later. The minute you tell people you have a kid on the way, every conversation you have changes. They will stop you to ask about how things are going. And, they’ll give you advice. They’ll tell you you’ll be fine (which particularly irks me). Whatever they talk about, they’ll talk and talk and talk. There’s no such thing as a short conversation when you have a kid on the way.

The best thing you can do when you’re running late (I usually am) is to build in an extra half hour. I hang out at a cigar shop (De La Concha, in Manhattan). There’s a great group of regulars, and we all know each other. It didn’t take long for news of UWS Mom’s pregnancy to spread through the shop. When trying to leave, I’d find myself pinned down by someone (who means well) asking about the pregnancy and trying to impart some words of wisdom. Then, I’d get home later than I expected (which is later than she expected). I had a new excuse for a change, but it didn’t change the fact that I was late.

Celebrating a son

Before we knew we were having a son, UWS Mom and I were asked often, “What do you want?” Obviously, we answered with the usual “just healthy” jive. One of my business contacts made a pretty good point when we used this copout: “Yeah, no shit. How many people would say, ‘Nah, I want a sick girl?’”

From the start, UWS Mom was pulling for a girl, and I just knew we’d have a boy. I have nothing but brothers, so I couldn’t fathom having anything else. And, I figured I needed a son. I understand boys, not girls. UWS Mom has a sister and doesn’t understand boys. But, I figure if one of us will be better at adapting, it’ll be her. I’m screwed out of the gate, and having a son would make things just a tad easier for me … and I need any edge I can get.

Workaholic Dad: Coping with workaholism

Some workaholics just love to work. Others love what they do so much that they can’t get enough of it. With either flavor of workaholism, you can expect long, arduous hours. I happen to fall into both categories. I love the feeling I get when I create something, and the form of creation I’ve chosen (writing) is a real thrill for me. Most of the time, I put in crazy hours by choice. Once Hunter arrives, I get the feeling, this is going to have to change.

Or, is it?