Starting Out

Dad says I should keep a journal as I grow up so I decided to be 21st century about this and start a blog. The keyboard is definitely not designed with infants in mind so please forgive any typos.

Let's bring everyone up to speed with my story so far, ok?

I was born on July 2nd, 2005. Mom started feeling contractions around 11pm on July 1st. She started to time them around midnight and by 1am they were close enough together that we needed to get to the hospital. At 3am, Mom got an epidural. That was totally trippy! At 9:01am, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I poop when I get nervous and just before being born I recall being really nervous about meeting Mom. What if she didn't like me? What if I said something stupid? With all my anxiety built up, I totally pooped in utero (sorry, I'm still using foetal slang). The doctors didn't want me to cry at birth in case I breathed it into my lungs and got an infection. Lucky for me, I didn't. Next thing I know, I'm being flung at my Mom like a sack of potatoes (I'm assuming about the potatoes thing; newborns only know metaphors if they're cliche).

I got rinsed off and checked for anything abnormal (I was pretty average: 7lbs 4oz, 20"). That went pretty quick and the doctors brought me back to Mom in a bit more civilised manner. I have to admit that I wasn't sure who the lady was but I just snuggled whoever was closest and trusted the doctors that it was Mom.

A few seconds later, this guy got all up in my face. Mom tells me that he's "Dad". At first, I'm like, "What is a Dad?" but he's got that muffled not-Mom voice I've been hearing for the last few months. I just thought Mom liked to do impressions or something. Anyways, he turned out to be okay, I guess. We stayed at the hospital for a couple days and then they let me out. They gave me some cool threads. I got a cool hat and a killer shirt that looks totally like Luke's on Tatooine.

And that's the story of how I got started...