To those who may or may not know, I have a publicized history of a solid hatred of Harry Potter. Back in its heyday, I was instructed never to read the series because of its connections with dark magic and sorcery, and I combined this mandate with my illustrious and ignoble aim to be always outside the scope of popularity - resulting, of course, in a strong anti-Harry Potter standpoint. I assumed the books were poorly written chaff being churned out annually to make ridiculous sales, while the movies were much of the same. I had many friends, who, knowing my taste in books and films, encouraged me to give the series a chance, but I remained stalwart in my attempt to ignore all things popular.
Last summer, shortly after being hired at Starbucks, two of my little brother's dear friends, who I'd spent countless hours with over my teenage years, traveled an hour to my town to see the midnight premiere of Harry Potter 7.1. I hung out with them for a bit and drank with the fatter of the two, always intending to skedaddle home before the premiere, but as time (and alcohol) wore on, I eventually succumbed to the inferior pressure (not peer pressure) and saw the last film with them. This was my first foray into the world of Harry Potter. I was disappointed.
Not only did I sleep through a decent chunk of the film, I thought the acting was subpar and the action scenes silly. I mean, HELLO, a giant fell asleep in the first action scene! How exciting could it possibly be?!?! I, of course, texted my hate of the film to my old and dear roommate as well as my current coworkers, bragging about how I finally gave Harry Potter a chance and was completely and utterly let down. They all responded by saying "oh, I don't claim the last book!" or "yeah, that movie was boring" or "you have to read the books to understand that film." Flimsy excuses, at best, paper-thin wheedlings that I quickly dismissed as pathetic ramblings of people who inured their childhood in Potter fandom and were unwilling to give it up.
I was wrong.
Under threat of possible death (due to boredom, not by someone threatening me), I borrowed the book series from a dear, sweet, sexy friend of mine about three weeks ago. Even with work and sleep, I finished the first book in a record 22-odd hours. Chamber of Secretions was completed a day later. I forestalled on Azkaban, but ultimately conquered the seven-book, the 3000+ page series, in under three weeks. A page every ten minutes for three weeks, discounting the minutes spent working, sleeping, or whining? I'm impressed.
I came to love the writing style of the series, and while I have misgivings on the depth of the world which Rowling has created, she assuaged most of my fears and doubts by bringing convenient early-book introductions full circle and making them something more than just a secret one-time use weapon. As I read the seventh book, desperate to find something to make me hate the series, I inwardly resolved that the one thing, dated all the way back to the first book, that she had never revisited and was clearly a flaw of hers, was the presence of mandrakes, the death-screaming plants that easily could have been used to fight Voldemort. Then Professor Sprout mentioned them in the final battle and I was devastated, because it meant that I had to become a full-fledged Potter fan.
Beyond being a fan of the series, though, I came to learn, and to love, something within the series. For those who are not complete and utter idiots and are incapable of clicking links and reading blog titles, this thing obviously is Hermione Granger. One of Harry's two truest friends, Hermione is seriously the best thing about this series. She's infinitely intelligent, a worrywart, a regular svengali, a buddingly attractive young woman, the most loyal friend ever invented, and a cat person. I rooted for her when her cat apparently murdered Ron's rat, when she dumped Ron's late come-ons to flirt with the most popular Quidditch player EVAH, or even when she took a douchebag date rapist to a party simply to piss Ron off. She is the embodiment of everything I love and adore, the person I want to be, and the person I want to be with (oddly enough, these two people are identical!).
What I brought from the series is a sense in ultimate self-sacrifice and goodness, the message that Rowling wanted to embed in her praiseworthy series. I took, also, an ultimate sense of self-worth and self-love, because all of my awkward, desperate, desiring emotions toward Hermione's personality, her beauty, her intelligence, smarminess, attitude of dismissal, and ultimate reliability, were emotions toward myself. I find a bit of Hermione in myself, and I'd like to find more than a bit of myself in Hermione.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Fatherhood: The Blog - IT'S A BOY
I try and keep my promises, unless it's inconvenient to do so, or I forget, so I'm writing a Fatherhood blog, thought I don't exactly feel like it. We're currently on day four of our Last Hurrah Vacation (aka A Truly O'Dellicious Tour of the Florida Panhandle Beaches) and I'm ensconced on a little loveseat in a hotel in San Destin, watching the first game of the NBA finals and still trying to decide who to root for: Dallas, because they represent all that is good and holy (and white) and have fought for this for years and put in much hard work and effort, or Miami, since they represent everything that is dark and evil and wrong with sports today. Both seem equally enticing to me.
So much has happened on this vacation already, and while I'm tempted to tell you all about it I will resist for two reasons 1) This is supposed to be a Fatherhood blog, and 2) Evidently this is about the hour when all the middle-aged men staying in this hotel for their business trip get online looking for porn, because the Internet is moving S-L-O-W. Suffice it to say that we've been to the beach four times, to about six different restaurants, haven't watched television once (until now), we visted a waterpark, and I used the women's bathroom at a restaurant and didn't realize it until a women came in a joined me in front of the mirror. Ain't no shame up in my game.
Well everyone, I'm having a son. I found out five days ago and I still haven't really been able to figure out exactly how I feel about it. My reaction was sort of just, "Of course I am." Not because I thought it would be a boy (my reaction to him being a girl would probably have been the exact same) but...I don't know really. It had to be one or the other, so the answer couldn't be that surprising. The real shocker in pregnancy is realizing that one is actually going to be a parent - to be complete responsible for the care and upbringing of another human being - a being that shares one's own DNA and could possibly turn out to be a maniacal serial killer, if one doesn't do the whole upbringing part of things correctly. I'm happy he's a boy though. Mag knew he was going to be a boy - she's been calling him, "he" for weeks now with complete confidence. I had no clue, of course, and really no guess one way or another.
It's interesting to think about though, because now all my hopes and fears (or excitement and apprehension) can be further categorized into gender specific moments that span Flipper's entire future childhood from age five until age 20 (I figure before five it doesn't much matter if you're a boy or a girl, you're raised more or less the same). Will he like sports? Will he play soccer or baseball? Will he be anything like me? Will he be a mama's boy? Will he take my advice when it comes to women? Will he be a dumb violent douchebag or a smart savvy guy who reads lots of books (like his father, of course)? What kind of man will he be? Will he like men? How will he treat women, and how can I make sure he treats them better than I did/do? Will he wish I knew how to hunt and that I took him hunting? A lot of these things I can control - or influence at least, but some of them I have no control over whatsoever. Thinking through these things does reassure me in one aspect, however - I think having a teenage boy will be a lot less scary and stressful than having a teenage girl.
The actual experience of finding out whether Flipper was a boy or a girl was quite interesting in itself. The office isn't an actual medical office, and there are strict rules what the ultrasound techs (or whatever their official title is) can and cannot do. Certain things are considered diagnostic, and the furthest thing they can do medically is say, "I strongly recommend you call your doctor and schedule an ultrasound with her immediately." We even had to sign something that said that we understood that this ultrasound was for, "Entertainment purposes only." But folks, let me tell you this - that ultrasound was amazing. The image popped up both on the computer monitor and on a giant flatscreen TV on the wall. Flipper is like the size of a grapefruit or something, but already incredibly detailed to the point that I could count his fingers and toes (that is, if I could count to 24). The best part is though, that he moves. When he first came on screen he was exercising, or bored or something, because he was constantly kicking his skinny little legs like he was riding a bicycle. I was shocked and mesmerized by his movement and said so, so the tech said, "Oh watch I'll make him angry" and rubbed the maching quickly back and forth over Mag's belly. Flippers started kicking and punching and, well, flipping. It was so great. I also think that he can hear everything we say and knows English already because when she said she was trying to get a good crotchshot (to prove he was a boy) he grabbed his right ankle with his right hand and stretched it up, spreading his legs to the camera. After a little more harassment he'd decided he had enough so he covered his ears with his hands and put his head down. Babies have that famous soft spot on top of their head when they're born - the skull is still forming and the two halves have yet to meet and fuse, and it's even bigger this early in the pregnancy. On the ultrasound the soft spot shows up as darker than the skull, so we have a great picture in which Flipper looks like some creepy alien commander with a mohawk, staring at the camera and flipping it off.
That's the lame part though - while pictures are cool and all they're nothing compared to actual seeing him move. He's a human being - a living creature that has some sort of thought already if he's deciding when to move and not move, and how to turn and whether to stretch. I mean, I know it's like low-level animal intelligence or whatever, but this is the first time I've seen him since he was the size of a pinpoint attached to a little yolk sack - basically an egg with a heartbeat. Now he's real, now he's no longer a thing, or even an it, but a HE. I don't know, I'm sure all of this sounds silly and corny and, "Well this is obviously HIS first baby. Remember when we were that over-dramatic, honey?" but it's just how I feel. It's a struggle to put it into words. It wasn't some huge epiphany moment or anything, but Flip definitely feels more alive and real and human to me than he has yet so far. I expect that will only increase with every ultrasound, or when I feel him move, and will continue for his entire life - I'll feel even more connected to him when he's born. I'll feel even more connected to him when he can talk. I'll feel even more connected to him when he starts asking tons of questions and trying to figure life out. I'll feel even more connected to him when he falls in love and doesn't understand it and wants me to explain it to him. I'll feel even more connected to him when his heart gets broken and he runs back to me wanting me to explain that to him. I'll feel even more connected to him when he's really and truly an adult - his own amazing person forging a life of his own. I'll feel even more connected to him when he's having his first child, and I can talk to him about when he was my first child. I can only assume that having a baby is like falling in love with another person - at every stage in the process you feel fully and completely in love, until you hit the next stage and realize that your ideas of full and complete love have expanded to the point where the love you previously thought to be so wasn't quite. It's all very exciting.
We may return to this weird little ultrasound place for another video viewing when we're much further along. It's set up with couches and chairs and it is designed so we invite our family or friends to come see the little bugger themselves (or throw a Gender Discovery Party (not the Jamie Lee Curtis, Chaz Bono, Lady Gaga type)). So if we do so maybe we'll invite some folk. It's just crazy to me, and I want to buy my own ultrasound and go over to Mag (who is asleep in the hotel bed) right now and squirt some jelly on her stomach while she sleeps and check and see what Flipper is up to. It could get quite addictive. Now that we know that he is a he Mag has, of course, been talking about names a lot. We had about six or seven girl names that we really liked, and about three boy names that we sort of liked. Mag had one boy name in particular that she was keen on (I wasn't that big of a fan) and as soon as we walked out of the ultrasound place said, "I don't like that name anymore. As soon as I saw him I quit liking the name. It doesn't seem to fit him at all." Which I found hilarious.
This is a fascinating journey people. I'm having a ball.
P.S. I was planning to spice this post up with pictures and all (including pictures of my actual child) but the Internet is being super slow and crappy and I don't even know if we have the DVD with pictures on it with us. I ain't waking Mag to find out because we took Flipper to his first water park today (that is, his first water park besides the one he is in 24/7 (or is that called an Amniotic Fluid Park?)) and they are both just plumb tuckered out. Next week.
So much has happened on this vacation already, and while I'm tempted to tell you all about it I will resist for two reasons 1) This is supposed to be a Fatherhood blog, and 2) Evidently this is about the hour when all the middle-aged men staying in this hotel for their business trip get online looking for porn, because the Internet is moving S-L-O-W. Suffice it to say that we've been to the beach four times, to about six different restaurants, haven't watched television once (until now), we visted a waterpark, and I used the women's bathroom at a restaurant and didn't realize it until a women came in a joined me in front of the mirror. Ain't no shame up in my game.
Well everyone, I'm having a son. I found out five days ago and I still haven't really been able to figure out exactly how I feel about it. My reaction was sort of just, "Of course I am." Not because I thought it would be a boy (my reaction to him being a girl would probably have been the exact same) but...I don't know really. It had to be one or the other, so the answer couldn't be that surprising. The real shocker in pregnancy is realizing that one is actually going to be a parent - to be complete responsible for the care and upbringing of another human being - a being that shares one's own DNA and could possibly turn out to be a maniacal serial killer, if one doesn't do the whole upbringing part of things correctly. I'm happy he's a boy though. Mag knew he was going to be a boy - she's been calling him, "he" for weeks now with complete confidence. I had no clue, of course, and really no guess one way or another.
It's interesting to think about though, because now all my hopes and fears (or excitement and apprehension) can be further categorized into gender specific moments that span Flipper's entire future childhood from age five until age 20 (I figure before five it doesn't much matter if you're a boy or a girl, you're raised more or less the same). Will he like sports? Will he play soccer or baseball? Will he be anything like me? Will he be a mama's boy? Will he take my advice when it comes to women? Will he be a dumb violent douchebag or a smart savvy guy who reads lots of books (like his father, of course)? What kind of man will he be? Will he like men? How will he treat women, and how can I make sure he treats them better than I did/do? Will he wish I knew how to hunt and that I took him hunting? A lot of these things I can control - or influence at least, but some of them I have no control over whatsoever. Thinking through these things does reassure me in one aspect, however - I think having a teenage boy will be a lot less scary and stressful than having a teenage girl.
The actual experience of finding out whether Flipper was a boy or a girl was quite interesting in itself. The office isn't an actual medical office, and there are strict rules what the ultrasound techs (or whatever their official title is) can and cannot do. Certain things are considered diagnostic, and the furthest thing they can do medically is say, "I strongly recommend you call your doctor and schedule an ultrasound with her immediately." We even had to sign something that said that we understood that this ultrasound was for, "Entertainment purposes only." But folks, let me tell you this - that ultrasound was amazing. The image popped up both on the computer monitor and on a giant flatscreen TV on the wall. Flipper is like the size of a grapefruit or something, but already incredibly detailed to the point that I could count his fingers and toes (that is, if I could count to 24). The best part is though, that he moves. When he first came on screen he was exercising, or bored or something, because he was constantly kicking his skinny little legs like he was riding a bicycle. I was shocked and mesmerized by his movement and said so, so the tech said, "Oh watch I'll make him angry" and rubbed the maching quickly back and forth over Mag's belly. Flippers started kicking and punching and, well, flipping. It was so great. I also think that he can hear everything we say and knows English already because when she said she was trying to get a good crotchshot (to prove he was a boy) he grabbed his right ankle with his right hand and stretched it up, spreading his legs to the camera. After a little more harassment he'd decided he had enough so he covered his ears with his hands and put his head down. Babies have that famous soft spot on top of their head when they're born - the skull is still forming and the two halves have yet to meet and fuse, and it's even bigger this early in the pregnancy. On the ultrasound the soft spot shows up as darker than the skull, so we have a great picture in which Flipper looks like some creepy alien commander with a mohawk, staring at the camera and flipping it off.
That's the lame part though - while pictures are cool and all they're nothing compared to actual seeing him move. He's a human being - a living creature that has some sort of thought already if he's deciding when to move and not move, and how to turn and whether to stretch. I mean, I know it's like low-level animal intelligence or whatever, but this is the first time I've seen him since he was the size of a pinpoint attached to a little yolk sack - basically an egg with a heartbeat. Now he's real, now he's no longer a thing, or even an it, but a HE. I don't know, I'm sure all of this sounds silly and corny and, "Well this is obviously HIS first baby. Remember when we were that over-dramatic, honey?" but it's just how I feel. It's a struggle to put it into words. It wasn't some huge epiphany moment or anything, but Flip definitely feels more alive and real and human to me than he has yet so far. I expect that will only increase with every ultrasound, or when I feel him move, and will continue for his entire life - I'll feel even more connected to him when he's born. I'll feel even more connected to him when he can talk. I'll feel even more connected to him when he starts asking tons of questions and trying to figure life out. I'll feel even more connected to him when he falls in love and doesn't understand it and wants me to explain it to him. I'll feel even more connected to him when his heart gets broken and he runs back to me wanting me to explain that to him. I'll feel even more connected to him when he's really and truly an adult - his own amazing person forging a life of his own. I'll feel even more connected to him when he's having his first child, and I can talk to him about when he was my first child. I can only assume that having a baby is like falling in love with another person - at every stage in the process you feel fully and completely in love, until you hit the next stage and realize that your ideas of full and complete love have expanded to the point where the love you previously thought to be so wasn't quite. It's all very exciting.
We may return to this weird little ultrasound place for another video viewing when we're much further along. It's set up with couches and chairs and it is designed so we invite our family or friends to come see the little bugger themselves (or throw a Gender Discovery Party (not the Jamie Lee Curtis, Chaz Bono, Lady Gaga type)). So if we do so maybe we'll invite some folk. It's just crazy to me, and I want to buy my own ultrasound and go over to Mag (who is asleep in the hotel bed) right now and squirt some jelly on her stomach while she sleeps and check and see what Flipper is up to. It could get quite addictive. Now that we know that he is a he Mag has, of course, been talking about names a lot. We had about six or seven girl names that we really liked, and about three boy names that we sort of liked. Mag had one boy name in particular that she was keen on (I wasn't that big of a fan) and as soon as we walked out of the ultrasound place said, "I don't like that name anymore. As soon as I saw him I quit liking the name. It doesn't seem to fit him at all." Which I found hilarious.
This is a fascinating journey people. I'm having a ball.
P.S. I was planning to spice this post up with pictures and all (including pictures of my actual child) but the Internet is being super slow and crappy and I don't even know if we have the DVD with pictures on it with us. I ain't waking Mag to find out because we took Flipper to his first water park today (that is, his first water park besides the one he is in 24/7 (or is that called an Amniotic Fluid Park?)) and they are both just plumb tuckered out. Next week.
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