Books and a Maherajah

I've highlighted several dads over the course of my blog--and each of them possess many qualities that I would like to have as a father--in six weeks...by the way...six weeks.

Of course, the dad that I have learned the most from is my very own dad. The dad I've sat and observed for 29 years is my very own dad. It's a cliche, but if I am half the dad he has been, I will consider myself successful.

I had never heard of a Maherajah water ski before until a couple of weeks ago. I don't do much boating and if you've ever seen me water ski you know I don't do much water skiing.

Editors Note: Ryan Thomas of the Orem 3rd Ward once told me that he never failed at getting someone up on water skis. He tried for about 45 minutes with me once when I was 14 and I never did get up and going. I'm pretty sure it's the only thing he's failed at. 


Clearly the water skiing gene has skipped a generation because from what I understand, my dad was quite the water skier. I've heard accounts of him rocking a slalom ski behind the boat on Lake Wildwood in Northern California. I've heard relatives say how great he looked on a water ski. He's a modest, humble man, and even he would admit that he was pretty good on a ski...so I know it's true.

But why, you may ask, have I never seen him water ski? Enter the Maherajah slalom ski that I recently learned about. Two weeks ago my dad and I flew to the Santa Rosa area to help my Aunt move. As we were moving some of her stuff to a storage unit, I saw my dad's eyes light up as he grabbed a beautiful Maherajah slalom ski from the shed area. We were moving things quick and were making some serious progress, but we took the time to admire the ski (pretty much exactly like the one pictured here, from the exotic line of skis...for whatever reason, that's the style).

I asked my dad about the ski and he told me that he used to have one just like it. I thought he was imagining some of the rides on that ski and so I asked him whatever happened to it. As he was carrying the ski to the moving truck, he told me that he sold it once we moved to Provo from Sacramento (when I was about four years old).

Curious, I asked why he sold it. He casually told me that he needed books while he was in college. I don't remember the exact price that he sold it for, but I know it was far less than what it was worth. And I know that it was far less than what the joy he must have experienced while riding it was worth.

However, like he always has had, his long-term vision proved correct. I think that given the opportunity to sell the ski a hundred more times in order to pay for books or help pay for tuition, he'd do it a hundred times out of a hundred.

He had greater things in mind. He had my sisters and me in mind. He had our futures in mind. He knew that long-term, WE needed an educated and employable dad more than HE needed a Maherajah slalom ski. I asked him about other things that he sold...and there were many other things on the list of items that helped my dad graduate and helped my sisters, mom, and me to ultimately have the life we have.

My dad has always had us in mind. I want to be that type of dad. I want to have that type of long-term vision and foresight.

When I think it can't get better, I think that throughout the entire experience of selling his stuff for school, my mom was right by his side. I don't know if they always agreed on everything--I would assume that they are a normal couple and didn't, but I know that they always showed solidarity.

I hope that Annie and I can have that type of solidarity. I hope that, as a father, I can possess some of the qualities that my own dad possesses.

But first, I need to learn to water ski.

52 Years Ago

Today (April 24) is my mom's birthday...she's 52 years young and like I told her, 52 is the new 51, so all is well!

As I was thinking about it, I realized that I have been with my mom for all of her birthdays since 1983--with the exception of 2003 and 2004 where I celebrated her birthday from some tiny towns in the Northwest.

I also got to thinking about a Mother's Day tradition we have (which I'm sure a lot of people do as well) where we write my mom a letter each Mother's Day. These letters have evolved over the years as I've come to realize exactly what it is my mom has done for me.

I've realized all this after watching little Annie go through the pains and sicknesses associated with pregnancy.

And just like I will forever be grateful to Annie for her courage and toughness and resiliency in our baby's pregnancy, I will never be able to thank my mom enough for all of her courage, toughness, and resiliency in handling my pregnancy.

My mom, pictured here carrying a much heavier me on her back, carried me for nine months plus 11 days back in 1982-83--and despite me weighing in at over 230 at the time of this picture, I think those nine months were even tougher.

Editors Note: I'm trying to think of my earliest memory of my mom...but this American Dad episode is killing me! hahaha. So funny! I must tune it out though...


My earliest memory of my mom is faded and vague, but timeless at the same time. While I don't remember the details, I do remember sitting on her lap on our couch in California while she scratched my arm (or as I called it and still call it "itchied") while I fell asleep. I don't remember anything else about that, but I clearly remember this occurrence...and I know it happened a myriad of times growing up.

Editors Note: It would be bereft to the story to not mention that Annie still frequently itchies my arm while I fall asleep...


My mom was Class Clown at her high school...class of 1978. I was Class Clown of my high school...class of 2001. But we share a much deeper bond.

I know I've taken her for granted at times, but I also know that I wouldn't be anything without her. So, for that, I'll forever be grateful that 52 years ago my Ma (Edith Marae Kuehnau) delivered my mom and set the stage for my existence.

If all moms loved their children like my mom loves hers, I know there would be less problems in the world.

Four Stages

Editors Note: I love my Mother-in-law very much and all of my in-laws. Nothing written below should put that in question...just clearing that up. I love her and think the world of her. I text her on her birthdays and hug her when I see her...she's great. This was the only cartoon I could find though that talked about my exiting stage process. I love her.


Since joining the Strong family (Annie's side of the family) I've noticed something.

And, after I conducted years of research and observation on the something, I came to the conclusion that this something--leaving her parents house or a family party or even trying to leave my parents house or family events--involves four stages.

Our four stage process goes as follows:

Stage 1 - The Initiation: At this stage Annie looks at me and gives me the "it's time to go, are you ready?" look. In the early stages of my study, I would get up immediatly and head for the door thinking we were leaving. In the latter stages of my study, I realized that this stage, The Initiation, was only the first of a four stage process. Annie doesn't literally mean it's time to go in Stage 1...all she means is it's time to say that it's time to go. So, now I stay seated through Stage 1.

Stage 2 - The Door: At this stage, the exiting moves from the couches or tables to the door we will be leaving out of. However, we aren't quite ready to exit the door. Rather, we stand at the door while brand new topics are introduced for discussion. This stage can last anywhere from five minutes to 35 minutes. It's my least favorite stage because it hurts my legs to just stand in one place...but I can't sit down because sitting down from Stage 2 automatically sends you back to Stage 1...once one person in Stage 2 sits, the entire group sits and we all move back to Stage 1 collectively.

Stage 3 - Opening the Door: This stage can be great, but it can also be brutal. You can open the door and think that you are leaving...but in reality, you are only bringing fresh air into Stage 2. It's important not to let yourself get too excited at Stage 3 because it really means nothing...I've seen new topics for conversation come into play in Stage 3, and I've been sent back to Stage 1 all the way from Stage 3.

Stage 4 - Getting in the Car: One would think that this would be the very final stage, and in most cases it is. While there is some lingering from Stage 3 to Stage 4, for the most part, this marks the end of the process and we end up going home. Don't be fooled, though. I've seen a Stage 4 get halted because of a forgotten phone or purse. Whatever you do, don't turn the car off or get out of the car while Annie runs in the house to get the forgotten object--that WILL send you back to a possible Stage 1...which is devastating on the heels of a potential Stage 4 exit.

So, those are the results of my study on the phenomenon of leaving. Again, this happens at most places we go and I know it's not exclusive to Annie...

Now, what does that have to do with pregnancy...I'll tell you.

The other night, at our prenatal class, we watched four birthing videos. We watched a natural birth, an epidural birth, a C-Section, and another natural birth. And when I say we watched the videos, I mean we watched the entire thing...the entire thing.

After watching the videos, I discovered that I could apply a four-stage process to how I was feeling about the videos. Here are my stages:

Stage 1 - Disturbance: I was clearly disturbed by what I was watching in the first video. I was shocked and I was grossed out...all at the same time. I couldn't believe what I was watching and I decided right then and there that I wanted nothing to do with watching anything like that ever again in my life.

Stage 2 - Fictitous Sci-Fi Movie: I began to think about how disturbing and gross the whole process was and it became easier to watch because I found it so disturbing that it felt as if I was watching a Tarantino film. It was so out there that it felt like fiction. It felt like a movie...with actors. I was able to watch the next births because I saw it as a fictitous event and it felt like watching a film.

Stage 3 - Realization: In the words of Eminem, I "snapped back to reality" and realized that these weren't actors and that this wasn't a fictitous film. I realized exactly what was going on. I realized that these were living humans arriving to this world and taking their very first breaths. This was the pride of these two parents arriving. They were seeing their baby for the very first time.

Stage 4 - Acceptance: By the last video, I came to accept the beauty (a term used loosley) of the whole process. I came to accept the incredible event that we were witnessing. I came to accept these little babies. They were gross, but beautiful at the same time. They were adorable. I even got teary-eyed (and not from vomiting).

In conclusion, I equate the pains of child birth with the pains of trying to leave a parent's house or family party with Annie...LOL! Just kidding.

In conclusion, I found the process to be wonderful. I found the excitement shown by the parents to be wonderful. I found this to truly be a miracle. Watching individuals take their first breath was astonishing. I can only imagine that the joy of watching your own child take his/her first breaths is something one will treasure forever.

I know I will.

125,104 Miles

Today I got the oil changed in my wonderful 1999 Saturn. As you can see, I go with M530 motor oil...it's the only thing that keeps the Saturn ticking.

As I got back in my car after the service, I noticed the sticker that the Lube Doc (which, by the way, is better than wherever you go to get your oil changed...so switch) put on my car had the mileage for my next service...125,104.

It also had the date that I would need my next service for the Saturn...June 20, 2012.

12 days after the due date of The News (pictured below the mileage picture)!!

I was so excited to realize that my car won't have new oil until my baby is here...my CAR won't have NEW oil until AFTER my baby is HERE!!

That's such a great thing to think about.

It made the awkward conversation with the Lube Doc folks about my car leaking oil and the windshield wipers not working, a little less awkward.

1+/60%/-2

Editors Note: I drop a swear word in this post. If you don't like it, don't continue reading. I told you this was going to be my thoughts...and today I had a swear word thought. 


Also, notice the dresser below that my dad and I put together last night...we love it!


Today Annie and I attended Prenatal Class...this was week one in what is a two-week crash course on everything there is to know about the actual birthing process...everything.

As I was sitting in the class (and I'll explain my post title momentarily), I was reaching for the words that would best describe how I am feeling.

I thought, "scared to death" doesn't quite explain how I am feeling. "Really scared" didn't quite do it justice either.

Just then, the teacher started talking about poop. She was talking about poop from the baby, the mother, and I even think the doctors poop during the process...from what it sounded like.

I thought, that's it.

The only person not pooping in this process might be me...because I am "scared shitless." :) That term seemed to sum up my feelings.

As she pulled out the needles for an epidural and explained that process and then followed it up with a video showcasing an epidural, the whole process hit me pretty hard.

I know what you're thinking..."you think it's hard on you, at least it's not your body." You're correct on one thing, it's not my body. But I can't do anything about that. I really can't change it.

Our teacher talked about how important it is for the husband to offer the proper type emotional support throughout the process...and that is what really hit me hard.

I hate seeing Annie in pain and I hate watching her go through difficult situations. I remember when she got her wisdom teeth out, and that was so hard to watch her be so uncomfortable. Clearly, I remember the two miscarriages and how brutal those were on her, physically and emotionally.

I certainly hope I was good emotional support during those times...but when it comes to this birthing process, I am scared. I want to be the best emotional support there is...and I hope I can be. (great tips from Dr. Reitzel for the expectant father, lol).

Having never done this before, I have no idea. But from the amount of importance and stress that the teacher put on being a good emotional supporter, I imagine that it's a valuable and important role in the birthing process. Part of being the best emotional supporter I can be is learning the lingo and the terminology.

So here I go...

1+/60%/-2 is an example of what the teacher said some lingo we may hear is. By the way, I hate math and on the surface it reeks of a math equation...but it's not. Phew.

1+ - the dilation of the cervix in centimeters. This is clearly in the beginning stages and en route to being a 10cm dilation. This 1+ dilation comes as part of the latent stage of labor (which by the way has nothing to do with the contractions and everything to do with the cervix).

60% - This is the effacement of the cervix, I believe. Editors note: I asked the teacher for a copy of her slides so that I can review the material, I may be off on some of this, please, all you mothers, correct me if I am. This has a lot to do with the thickness of something...crap, now I can't remember and I don't want to Google it.

-2 - This is where you are...I believe the correct terminology is -2 station...it basically is an indicator on the positioning of the baby in proximity to the cervix...I think.

It was an intense class...and it was only week 1. I caught a glimpse of her outline for next week's lesson and it involves watching a birth...and I am assuming that we will be watching it from the doctor's point of view...

And I'm assuming that I may still be scared shitless after watching...but I may not have time to think about that fear because I'll be drowning in my own vomit.

What a beautiful, natural thing this birth is.

March Madness--Three Months To Go!

It's March and there is Madness in the Flanagan home!

But it has very little to do with my NCAA Tournament Bracket (thanks for nothing Missouri). Rather, the madness has shifted into another gear as we've hit the third trimester and are staring at less than three months to go until The News makes his/her appearance!

I can't believe how much time has passed...it's all happening so fast!

We've worked on our nursery (I'll take some pictures this afternoon and have those up soon). We've cleaned out closets and rooms and are preparing the best we can...

We had another ultrasound on March 6 and all is well. The baby is growing like a weed and is healthy and continuing to develop!

One huge development has come in the form of our baby kicking and rolling and moving like crazy...it's a weird, but incredible, experience. It seems like every time I put my hand on Annie's stomach, the baby kicks and pushes and rolls...it's my VERY favorite thing.

Sometimes I wake up at four or five in the morning and I put my hand on her stomach and just sit there for a while feeling the baby kick and move...it never ceases to make me smile.

With the baby moving it's beginning to feel more and more real...and I wonder what the baby is going to be like.

I've been feeling like The News is a boy lately. I don't know why, but I keep thinking boy (The News is probably a girl and my intuition is way wrong :)).

But, assuming my intuition is correct, I wonder what that little boy may be like. I wonder if he'll be like me or like Annie...I wonder if he'll like baseball. I wonder if he'll like vegetables.

I was talking to my mom yesterday about all the sports and activities I was involved with when I was little and how I finally made a decision to just focus on one (baseball). I wonder, if our baby is a boy, if he'll be so encompassed in so many activities like I was.

I love this song by Brad Paisely...it makes me think...

It Takes a Village

The old saying "it takes a village to raise a child" has evolved, in my opinion.

While I still think the principle applies today, I believe that the method and way that the said village helps raise the said child has evolved greatly.

When I was growing up the village that helped raise me was relatively small--it consisted of the people who were directly in my life, every day. It consisted of my friends and my family that lived in my house or in my neighborhood.

Sure, I had good relationships with my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles--but we were limited on our interactions because of geography and a lack of technology.

Since my little sister, Kaitlyn (cute girl with huge glasses pictured above), has been accepted to graduate school at the University of Alabama, I've been thinking a lot about the village that I will have helping raise my child.

Kaitlyn will be in Alabama and my other sister, Karissa (pictured with her family below), will be in Chicago with her family (and I'm the loser who can't quite move beyond Orem...and that's quite alright with me). Had these changes been happening 15-20 years ago (shoot, even 10 years ago), we would have had very limited interactions with them and it would have been difficult for them to be a major player in the village that would help raise our children.

But now, because of the many blessings of technology, I am so happy that both of them can be major players and factors in that village. I am so happy that my grandma (the one and only Punki) can play a role in the village that helps raise my child.

I've missed Karissa and her family a lot--and I always wish Lily and Faith were closer. But, that said, I feel like I haven't missed a single beat. I haven't missed a thing with either of them--and it's because of technology that our proximity has drawn closer, despite the fact that we live 2000 miles away.

I'll miss Kaitlyn like crazy (mostly because I am now out of family to torment), but I love the fact that technology has narrowed that distance. Kaitlyn, Karissa, Lily, Faith, and Brady can all play major roles in the development and growth of our child. They can all be a part of our village with very little or no effort on our end anymore. I'll forever be grateful for that.

I think our child will be so well-rounded because of the influence of Annie's family (about 10,000 Strong (pun intended)) around us and my parents around us--but he/she will also have the opportunity to develop a strong bond with his/her aunts and uncle and cousins across the country.

Our village is no longer those close to us. It's a digital village. And that's awesome!