“Only baby blog on the web that manages to talk about baby dreams and a primate being pelted in the family jewels in the same entry…”   – Random reader that doesn’t exist

Typically the sound of a screaming giraffe being attacked by a lion, just moments away from its imminent demise coming from your bedroom would you send you fleeing for safer quarters.  For new parents it’s just another Tuesday.

The first night home went something like this for us:

Honey: So what do you want to watch on TV?

Me: I don’t know, what about that new show on Discovery – you know the survival one where they drop you naked right in a bear’s mouth with only a rubber band and you have to survive? Or the one where that ice road trucker, logger, fisherman, and alligator wrestler free dives with great white sharks dressed in a seal outfit, smothered in rotting tuna?

Honey: Sure that sounds –

Whaaaaaaaaa- shreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkk! Waaa-

Me: Holy s#@t – it’s the apocalypse! I think something is getting murdered in our bedroom!

Honey: What?

Me: Ok, here’s what we’ll do – I’m going to grab my Justin Bieber cd collection, you grab the cat and let’s get the f out of here.

Honey: Steve?

My wife started towards the bedroom.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

There it was again.

Me: Don’t go in there! I think a family of ostriches were just disemboweled in our closet.

Honey: See? He just needed his binky.

All that for a binky? You could hit a howler monkey point blank range in the balls with a slingshot and the sound wouldn’t even come close. What happens when it’s actually something important?

Once I became a dad, I immediately felt a surge of protective adrenaline. It may be paranoia or the sleepless hallucinations, but I keep imagining the worst scenarios occurring. At the hospital I thought a ferocious dragon was going to shoot through the floor and light us all on fire at any moment.

The dragon never arrived but doctors, nurses, and anyone else who happened to be in San Francisco that weekend did.  Short only a Buddhist, one-eyed antelope magician, our room was a rotating turnstile of hungry medical professionals eager to feast on our insurance policy.

Were they awesome? Yes.

Did a fire-breathing dragon arrive months later carrying my child in one hand and a bill with lots of zeros in the other? No comment – dragons don’t have hands…at least that’s what I told the medical bill repossession guy in a zombie-like, sleepless stupor as he was carrying out my flat screen TV.

At time of hospital release which occurred only after the hospital staff could no longer fit any more cash in their pockets, we were handed our baby and sent on our merry way.

There were no instructions, documents to read and sign for acknowledgement, or test to pass.

The disclosures when downloading Temple Run from iTunes are more complex and legally binding.

There was just a pile of blankets with something crying inside.

So… now what do we do?

A baby spends their first few weeks on earth doing what they probably did most of their time in the womb; sleep.

“Ah look at him, it looks like he’s dreaming,” a friend commented witnessing the baby asleep.

With a chill going down my back and warmth in my heart, I responded, “You’re right, what a precious little guy…”

 Wait a second what could he possibly be dreaming about? The amniotic fluid? Kidneys floating by? Perhaps he’s in a field of giant milk-filled boobs? He’s a week old – what a life experience does he have to dream about?

Once home we were able to sift through the hundreds of pictures that were taken in the heat of the battle. Some of them weren’t exactly PG for showing.

“Don’t show your mom pictures of my boobs,” my wife exclaimed after the fact.

“Why not?”

“Would you want me showing pictures of your penis to my dad?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well it’s the same thing.”

“I hardly think so.”

I suppose it’s a normal dad thing or perhaps I just have some of the most sickest and twisted friends around? I kept getting questions about my son’s… ahem… man  boy baby part.

A woman who helped change his diaper stated,  “he is going to be a hit with the ladies. I know because I have three sons.”

I’m not sure whether to sing from the mountain tops or report her to Megan’s law.com.

Well then… let’s examine something a little less inappropriate – What’s in Steve’s fridge at the moment?

Winter Solstice Seasonal Ale

Brewed by Anderson Valley Brewing Company  Bonnville, California

Style Winter Warmer

ABV 6.90%

Keeping warm during the winter months can be difficult and most of all, expensive. This beer not only is a tasty winter treat, but it does wonders for your wallet. Let me show more:

Heating bill for one night: $13

NorthFace Parka: $79

6 pack of Winter Solstice: $10

Anderson Valley Brewing may not pay attention to detail when doing Google searches (had they done so they would’ve realized no bears within 3,000 miles have antlers), but they are strong in one thing – making kick-ass beer.

This creamy caramel concoction is one of those ass kickers.

If you’re one of those unfortunate souls who can’t get your frost-bitten hands on one of these warmers, you can simulate the experience.

It’s sort of like coming across a bakery you didn’t know existed on a day when bone-chilling temperatures are freezing you the core. You pop in and are instantly hit with the sweet aroma of baked goods, warming your soul and summoning your taste buds.

Yes, I said it. This beer tastes like your favorite baked pastry. But before you go trying to squeeze your hot crossed bun into a mug and drink it, try to get your hands on this delicacy first.

Your liver may not appreciate it, but every frozen hair standing straight up on your body will.  As will your state of mind – this warmer is nearly 7%.

Warning: Don’t operate heavy machinery such as a sleigh after consumption.

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