Slow Emergence

So I have a big confession to make: I quit smoking on New Years Day.
It’s been a week, a busy week to be sure.
Getting up the nerve to quit was a very difficult thing to do, because I enjoyed smoking so much. I was addicted to the act of smoking more than I was to the nicotine. I pretty much proved this by quitting cold turkey with a pack of nicotine gum in my pocket – I never used it, but it was there in case the nicotine withdrawals got in my way at work or something. The physiological effects that nicotine withdrawal had on me were extreme exhaustion and lethargy. It was like coming down from a 20-year stimulant high, or emerging from a pool of slow-setting epoxy. So of course, I chose this time to move into the new house – in between fugue bouts of narcolepsy, that is.
I figured I could distract myself by keeping busy packing and moving boxes, and it worked very well for the most part. I explained to Nam ahead of time that I might be irritable or go kind of crazy about little things (more so than usual, that is, so we were prepared when that stuff inevitably happened. I experienced an out-of-body rage when I found that a stone lantern I had stored at my housing developer’s office had been broken. I used to experience this level of rage all the time: When it happens, I can actually see myself going berserk and feel regret for what’s about to happen, but usually do not bother trying to stop myself. So anyway, I completely lost it when I saw a stone leg had been broken off and proceeded to smash the lantern into little tiny bits on the concrete outside the office as the secretaries inside looked on in horror. Rage issues, man. I proceeded back home where I sat down on a new couch and immediately fell asleep.
But, you know, other than that, it’s been easier than I thought it would be. I guess it all comes down to having a good reason to quit. I mean, you would figure that decreasing your chances of DYING EARLY would be a really stupendous reason to quit, but it just is not for most smokers. There usually has to be a more immediate motivation. For me, it is the baby. I knew this was coming from five months ago. I knew the baby was coming, I knew we were moving to a new house. I promised Nam I would quit before we moved, and New Years came up at around just the same time, so…
It’s kind of strange. I thought I would have to swear off coffee and alcohol for a while, but I’ve had both this week and they didn’t affect my cravings that much… I think everything’s OK as long as I’m within proximity of Nam and the baby. As long as I avoid solo trips to pool halls, strip clubs, and crack dens for a while, I think everything may turn out just fine.

Strange baby products (part 1)

So people are starting to send me strange baby-related links, which is pretty cool. G sent me the first link:
zakyyo.jpg

If you haven’t given birth yet, the Zaky is great to bring to the hospital when your baby is born. Scent it with your own scent beforehand to help your baby when he/she is in the bassinet next to you or give it to the nurse when your baby is taken to the hospital’s nursery. This way you give your baby “your hand” with your scent, and the nurse can use it to support and position your baby. Also, because your baby smells and feels something constant from birth, the Zaky helps the transition to going home.

Uh, okay.
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Adam sent me the next link: Issho ni Nenne baby Mickey womb doll by Takara Tomy
baby-mickey.jpg

Baby Mickey and Minnie play internal melodies and sounds that recreate what they heard before birth, such as the heartbeat and bloodflow. This helps them sleep and relax, gives them a new friend to play with, and gives parents more peace of mind.

My personal take on these two products is that they would be better combined: Giant diembodied mouse paws that emit heartbeats and other assorted uterine BGM, scented with my man-sweat.

First Glimpses of Posterity

Here is little Fetus swimming about like a tadpole at six weeks:

And here’s another shot, as well as a closeup at 8 weeks:

The doctor couldn’t get the right angle for the latter shots and at first thought Fetus was actually a pair… TWINS!!! What a scary thought! The world is not ready for Yoshida twins! (The doctor was wrong, though.)
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If Fetus grows up and is freaked out by reading this blogpost, please remember Daddy did this with you in mind. This whole blog, in fact, is a record of who made you. It is only natural that you become the centerpiece.

Songs in the key of fetus

Somebody at work gave Nam a Mozart for Babies type CD (perhaps this freely downloadable one) – and I cannot state this lovingly enough – but it’s driving me fucking insane. It’s basically Mozart on Valium, and I didn’t exactly start out a Mozart fan anyways. Nam plays it on the Pioneer system I have next to the bed every night, and it’s so babyishly cute I want to pour baby powder in my eyes and watch Happy Tree Friends reruns all night.
On the flip side, though, maybe the baby will be a genius, so I guess it’s worth a try.
Still, maybe I can convince her to switch to the String Quartet’s Tribute to Led Zeppelin tomorrow night.
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Of course, the best fetus song of all time is Yellow Ledbetter.
And I’m immensely happy that we’ll soon be able to experiment on the efficacy of the infamous Takemoto Piano ad (the second video in that post).

T-minus eight months and counting

This post is basically an errata for the due date I wrote in the comments a couple of posts back. The actual due date is May 11 (not May 15).
I have been mind melding with the baby in between introducing it to Crowded House and Jack Bauer, and his (her?) Majesty says he (she?) will accept the following as gifts, in order of preference:
– 1967 Fastback Mustang
– 1978 Chateau Margaux
– A hundred fawning nursemaids bursting with milk
The only problem is, I don’t know which are genuinely his (her?) ideas, and which are mine…

Who’s your

Took Nam to get blood tests (all good) and find our “steady” obstetrician today. Found one of the only females in the business in this area, and she tuned out to be solid. Only thing is, she called me “daddy” in Thai (as in, “what does daddy do for a living?”). This is the first time I’ve been called that in a non-joking context my whole life, and it felt weird. But she’s right – I’m gonna be a daddy, and it feels good. It just felt weird to be called that.
Just between you and me, though – when the hell did I get so old?