Chapter 8

“The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men, it is said, have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.” George Edward Moore

A few days later, Jennifer called us and asked Mindy and me to stop by for a few minutes.

“Alan,” Jennifer began, “you have been worse than useless all during the planning for the wedding, and have come up with more stupid ideas than any one man should be able to think about!”

“But I have one task for you, that even YOU might not be able to screw up!” she stated.

“Gee, Mom,” I said, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Tom had been listening to the conversation, and suddenly started making sounds that almost sounded like laughter. As Jennifer began glaring at him, however, he apparently decided he had some paperwork that needed to be taken care of in his office.

“If you call me Mom one more time, Alan, your child will grow up without a father,” Jennifer threatened, “and they will never even find the body!”

Jennifer actually put me in charge of the music for the wedding reception!

Actually, what had happened was the original band they had scheduled had just canceled, so now they were desperate enough to allow me to do some actual planning for my own wedding.

I immediately called the group who sang at the engagement party, booked them, asking especially for love and wedding songs – but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also ask if it would be okay if I sang “ONE little song!”

The band leader laughed, and said sure, then I told him the name of the song.

I know all the ladies would like to hear all the details of the wedding, but let’s face it. For guys, the only reason for a wedding to exist is to get to the honeymoon!

I will give Jennifer credit, it was a spectacular wedding – all three hours of it!

The reception exceeded even my wildest wishes.

Of course the band played all the wonderful love songs, and all the wedding songs, including “There Is Love,” also called The Wedding Song.

Finally it was about time for Mindy and I to head out, so I walked up to the band, and grabbed a microphone.

I said all the usual platitudes about being happy everyone could be with us on this incredible day, then added I would like to sing a song to the most beautiful woman in the world, my wife – MY WIFE – Mindy.

The band began to play and I began to sing the Ray Price classic

I barely managed to get through the song, and Mindy and I were both crying.

I had planned it so Mindy and I would leave immediately after this song, so I took her hand and started walking through the crowd, when the band leader called me back.

“Hey, Alan, my man,” he said, “we have one more song!”

I knew this wasn’t part of the plan, but I returned to the stage.

Much to my surprise, Mindy walked up and took the microphone.

She told everyone she wanted to sing a song to me – her husband – and knew it was by one of my favorite singers, Doris Day.

She said she had added some words at the end she especially wanted me to hear.

The band began to play, and Mindy began to sing:

Then Mindy said this was the verses she was singing especially for me:

Now I am really crying. I knew Mindy could play the piano. Remember Jennifer said I had ruined eight years of classical piano lessons by teaching her, what was it, redneck hillbilly songs or something like that?

After that I asked her to play for me when we were over at Jennifer’s, and she played so beautifully, but I didn’t know until now Mindy also had six years of vocal training, and used to sing solos in school plays.

I know I will never be a singer, even though I love to sing. Most people would say I had a “pleasant” voice, but that’s about as high a compliment as they would go. Remember the band leader said “don’t quit your day job?”

Mindy, however, sang beautifully. If she wanted to, I think she could sing professionally.

I knew our future household would not only be filled with love, but also music and lots of singing!

Anyway, we finally got away, and headed for a cruise ship in Miami, and a three-week honeymoon cruise of the Bahamas.

It was spectacular!

And what little we saw of the ocean and the islands was okay also!

Considering the fact we were actually on our honeymoon, and everything that had happened in the last five months, there was only one song that would fit the occasion. It was also obvious someone “up there” (maybe three someones?) were also looking after us.

The only song that would fit was a truly beautiful song, a duet recorded by Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney, entitled “True Love.” The original song was from the film “High Society.”

When I played the Bing Crosby/Rosemary Clooney song for Mindy the first night of the honeymoon, she absolutely fell in love with it, and insisted on my playing it every single day for the entire three week cruise.

When I found out Mindy was expecting, she was barely five weeks pregnant. Add two weeks till the wedding, and the three-week honeymoon, and by the time we returned home, Mindy was two and a half months along.

We began setting up our household, and picking up baby stuff. We had also found out we were going to have a son.

While planning the wedding, and while on the honeymoon, Mindy had been bothered with a little morning sickness, but her breasts were really tender, and she was already starting to have cravings. Once we came back, a sort of delayed-reaction morning sickness really started affecting Mindy.

I have read some women are never affected by morning sickness, while others have morning sickness for months and months. I know Mindy had morning sickness for a couple of months after we returned from the honeymoon.

It might sound strange to say this, since you know I had two children with Julie, but I have actually not been around pregnant women that much.

About six weeks after we found out Julie was pregnant with Joseph, the Marine Corps shipped me out for a one-year, unaccompanied tour in Okinawa. Julie and I were still newlyweds, still getting to know each other, and I had used up most of my annual leave during my “courting” of Julie and our marriage. I did have a couple of weeks of leave left and I spent every moment of that with Julie, so I did learn some about morning sickness!

By the time I came back, Joseph was already a little bouncing boy.

I found out Julie was pregnant with Jason the same week I received orders sending me to Diego Garcia, in the Indian Ocean. I had 30 days leave before having to report, so I happily spent those with Julie where the only real part of pregnancy I got to enjoy (???), again, was morning sickness.

When I returned (actually a couple of months early), Jason was a little bouncing boy.

So, I was not quite prepared for all the changes in your life, and wife, during pregnancy.

The first big change in your life is watching your wife deal with morning sickness, which I did have a little experience with.

I am sure it will be a complete surprise to anyone reading this, but at one point in my life I was young and stupid.

There may be one or two mean-spirited people out there who will say the only difference between now and then is now I am no longer young.

Even if that were true, back then I was stupider, umm, more stupid?

One of my favorite jokes has always been, “Do you know the difference between the Marine Corps and Boy Scouts? The Boy Scouts have adult supervision.”

You get a bunch of young Marines together on their own and you quickly realize they do NOT have adult supervision.

We used to occasionally gather together and make a pilgrimage to the local watering hole where we would imbibe adult beverages. But before leaving, we might each contribute $10 into a hat. The person who would “win” the contents of the hat was the one who could throw-up the greatest distance!

We would also offer encouragement to each other, “Way to throw-up, John,” or “Damn, Sam, you just threw up 18 inches further than John. Let’s go have another beer!”

Simple, harmless fun!

Pregnant women, for some unknown reason, don’t seem to appreciate encouragement when it comes to throwing up.

“Way to go, Mindy, you really threw up good that time, much better than yesterday. You the girl!” is not met with favoritism.

Even after you have learned (very, very painfully) to keep your mouth shut during these times, pregnant women don’t seem to appreciate their mate watching them and grinning from ear to ear.

By the way, do baboons actually grin?

I’ve never really noticed, but that is what Mindy said, that I looked like a grinning baboon watching her puke.

Of course we are grinning because we know it is the result of the sperm WE planted inside them that is making them puke. Not even born yet, and he or she is already making Mom’s life miserable! “You The Babe!”

While there are great and wonderful things about watching your wife come full term with pregnancy, and watching your son being born, I have to admit those are somewhat offset by the benefits of what I now call Fast Food Fatherhood!

Think about the parallels. When you drive to a restaurant, you order your food, then you have a wait while you drive to the next window. You finally get your food, pay for it, and then enjoy the food. You don’t have to watch the food being made, you don’t have to sweat while it is being made. You don’t have to listen to the screams ... oh, sorry. You simply order, wait, pay and enjoy.

In real life, you “order,” or depending on the relationship, sometimes beg, that is you have sex. Then comes the wait, which by the time you find out usually is about seven or eight months. Then comes the absolute pure hell ... umm, I mean the wonderful experience in the delivery room.

I am almost tempted to advise all the males out there, once their wife and/or girlfriend tells them “we’re having a baby,” to immediately head to the nearest military recruiting station, sign up and request immediate deployment overseas – preferably some very remote spot overseas.

Ladies, I hope you know by now how much I love Mindy. She is the air I breathe, she is the blood flowing through my veins, and she is the heart in my chest, pumping love every day!

But damn, girls, y’all change during pregnancy.

In 1687, Sir Isaac Newton wrote his three “laws of motion.” The third law basically states for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Dummy that I am, I did not know until Mindy told me we were having a baby that Newton was actually describing pregnancy.

The greater the action, the greater the reaction.

The Golden Glow, as I refer to the luminescence which now surrounds Mindy is a GREAT thing.

It turns plain girls into pretty ones.

It turns pretty girls into beautiful ones.

And it turns beautiful girls into goddesses.

But there has to be an equal reaction. In order to gain so much, you also have to lose something.

One thing I learned during Mindy’s pregnancy is pregnant women love pregnant women jokes – as long it is about OTHER pregnant women.

For instance I once asked Mindy if she knew the difference between a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy, and a swimsuit model.

When she asked what, I answered, “Nothing, if the pregnant woman’s husband knows what is good for him!”

At first she laughed, then later accused me of calling her fat!

You see, the slightest hint you have made any reference to them (and it really doesn’t even have to be a hint), and the changes their body is going through will result in punishment worse than death.

The first thing women lose, well at least the first thing you notice women lose, is their wonderful, quirky sense of humor.

Oh, they still have a sense of humor, but trying to find it without losing your life in the process is ... well, difficult.

I found out sometimes it is easier (and a LOT safer) to simply say nothing for the final seven or eight months of pregnancy. Of course then you are accused of not loving them if you DON’T tell them pregnant women jokes!

The second thing you actually notice they lose, is even greater.

Women are the most rational creatures on earth. If it were not for woman’s rational brain, we would all still be living in caves.

The second thing women lose during pregnancy is the ability to have a rational thought.

At this point, it is ALL emotion.

You combine an almost indiscernible sense of humor, with lack of rational thought process, and throw in extreme emotions and ... well if it weren’t for the Golden Glow human life would have ended on earth tens of thousands of years ago.

If it weren’t for the Golden Glow, no man would ever have been brave enough, or foolish enough to ever approach a woman again.

The Golden Glow is responsible for the continuation of our species on earth.

Now I just made the statement if it were not for woman’s rational brain we would still be living in caves.

In order to understand that, and fully understand how great the loss of rational thought is, then we need to go back tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Think about it.

At one time we lived in caves. For men, it was an almost ideal life.

He didn’t need to paint the inside or the outside of the cave.

Because caves are usually located in mountains, or at least rocky locations, there was no yard work required.

No lawn that needs constant work.

He could hunt for food, he had the cave for shelter, and once he found a woman and dragged her back to the cave, he had sex.

The three necessities of life for men: food, shelter, sex – not necessarily in that order.

Once those three needs had been met, then he could spend hours contemplating the meaning of life, our place in the universal structure, why the absence of tan lines is so much sexier than the presence of tan lines, or whether the neighbor’s teenage daughter’s tits were really as big as they looked, or was there some extra padding in that set of animal skins!

Of course there were problems.

Since he never moved, eventually the herds would get hunted out, and the food supply would dwindle.

So while there might not be as much to eat, he still had shelter and sex, and eventually the herds would come back.

Then woman started thinking, and applied her rational thought process to the problem.

She quickly realized the answer was simple. Move to where the food was, and you would have plenty to eat again.

She informed man of this, and expected an immediate response.

She got one.

“Damn, girl, there ain’t no caves out there.”

Now you might be wondering why prehistoric man would be saying “ain’t?” It is a well-known and established fact the earliest signs of human habitation occurred in the South. Granted, it was in the southern part of Africa, but it was still South – hence the “ain’t!”

After waiting for some sign man was taking her idea seriously, woman finally realized it was time for her to take action.

The next time man came back from a futile hunting trip, all his animal skins were piled in front of the cave and woman was standing there with a large club in her hands.

She quickly informed man that, until he figured out a way to build a cave “out there,” then he would be sleeping outside – and alone.

“I don’t care if you THINK you are hung like a mastodon, you ain’t getting none.” I said early woman was rational – not necessarily grammatically correct.

You may also be wondering why “hung like a mastodon,” instead of, as we now say, “hung like a horse?” You have to realize way back then, horses were only about the size of a small dog, so just as today no one would brag about being “hung like a Chihuahua,” back then no one would brag about being “hung like a horse.”

After many failed experiments, a lot of trial and error, and many long, lonely nights, man finally succeeded.

He now had a cave he could build anywhere. It was made of animal skins, but it still provided shelter. And more importantly, it meant he could enjoy sex again.

The only remaining problem was what to call this new construction.

In their early primitive language, cave is actually called “kav.” You can see the spelling has changed over tens of thousands of years, and it is pronounced a little differently today, but our cave was their kav.

So man took to calling the new cave “kaw,” which literally means “built cave,” or what we would today think of as an artificial cave.

Since, at least from man’s point of view, the entire purpose of the kaw was to have sex, he added their ancient word for sex (which was “ban”) to the name.

The new contraption was called kaw-ban. The literal translation is “built cave for sex.”

Just as kav has been passed down through the years, the name for this new cave still exists in our vocabulary today.

Again, the spelling has changed, and it is pronounced a little differently, but the word we use today still means exactly the same now, as it did then.

The word we are familiar with that means “built cave for sex,” is ca-bin, or cabin.

Come on ladies, don’t try to act like you didn’t know. Y’all are the ones responsible for it being built tens of thousands of years ago!

You know fully well, any time a man tells you he has a “little cabin in the country,” or a “little cabin in the mountains,” or a “little cabin by the beach,” and invites you to visit – then you are going to get laid.

It was the rational mind of woman that moved us out of caves, because woman knew if they moved to where the food is, then they would be able to have larger families, and the families would be healthier and stronger, and thus they would be safer.

During pregnancy, women lose this rational thought process.

The average pregnancy, carried full-term, lasts 270 days.

Women begin losing their rational thought process within 24 hours after conception, thus an observant man can tell if a woman is pregnant by noticing she is suddenly no longer making rational decisions.

Fortunately for the human race, women regain this rational thought process within minutes, if not seconds, of the birth of a child. If not, there would be no humans alive today.

Only a supremely rational woman could ever look at a squalling, screaming, wiggling, wrinkled thing like an infant and see something worth keeping around for 18 years.

I, of course, have dozens of stories that could prove, individually, both of my earlier statements about a pregnant woman having lost her ability for rational thought and having little, if any, sense of humor, but I have one story that combines those two and is absolutely irrefutable.

The story begins as Mindy is about eight-and-a-half months pregnant with our first child.

As we did almost every day, Mindy and I had been taking a long walk. I cannot tell you how much I looked forward to those walks.

I loved having this beautiful, very obviously pregnant woman by my side.

As we were walking, my beloved one made a statement I simply could not let pass.

“I walk like a duck,” she lamented.

I immediately told her that was not true, how beautiful I thought she was, and how much I loved her, and how much I love walking with her.

If I had stopped there, everything would have been fine.

Unfortunately I didn’t stop, adding one further comment, proving you should never underestimate the stupidity of the average male:

“Besides,” I said, “ducks don’t waddle that much.”

Yes, it was funny, even brilliant!

Anyone with a sense of humor would have laughed themselves silly.

Unfortunately, “anyone with a sense of humor” does not cover extremely pregnant women.

To make matters even worse, I could not stop while I was behind.

I dug an even deeper hole when I told my now very upset bride, “Please, Princess, don’t be in a foul mood.”

The problem with marrying a woman smarter than you are, err, someone nearly as smart as you are, is you can’t get by with very much.

She immediately recognized my second duck reference.

For those of you who don’t get it, don’t feel bad. Not many people are as smart on Mindy.

You see, ducks are birds. Ducks are classified as fowls.

Thus where most people would have heard me say, “don’t be in a foul mood,” Mindy heard me say, “don’t be in a fowl mood.”

For those women who still don’t get it, I can only hope you either have a tremendous personality, or a tremendous set of tits, otherwise you will never find anyone dumb enough to marry you.

Irrational response? You judge.

As you know, I have a five-bedroom house, with two masters.

The second master has the identical bed, with an identical mattress.

The other three bedrooms have queen beds, with very good mattresses.

Obviously then, all four of those other beds would be very comfortable.

So why I am now consigned to sleeping on the couch?

Couches are wonderful for sitting on and having a conversation with your beautiful wife.

They are wonderful for watching a movie while your beautiful wife lies with her head in your lap so you can play with her hair.

A couch is especially nice when the two of you are “nekked!” Remember Lewis Gizzard’s definition of nekked? You have no clothes on, and are up to something!

They are horrible torture devices for sleeping on, when you know you have five very comfortable beds in the house!

I suppose there will be a couple of old harpies out there who will answer Mindy’s response was not only not irrational, but supremely rational, given my idiotic response to her lament.

While I will not agree with you on this point, we haven’t even gotten to the totally irrational part yet.

The irrational part kicks in after you have spent two hours tossing and turning, and have finally managed to fall into a fitful doze.

Fifteen minutes later, your wonderful, loving, beautiful wife wakes you up as she sits on the edge of the couch.

She is crying and telling you how much she misses you beside her, and how sorry she is for making you sleep on the couch.

You tell her how sorry you are, and how it is actually all your fault, but everything will be okay now, and let’s go to bed.

“No,” she says, “I want to sleep here ... with you ... on the couch!”

????????????!!!!!!!!!!!????????????

“What????”

I talked, I pleaded, I try to persuade, all to no avail.

Mindy would not change her mind, saying she had made me sleep on the couch, so it was only “fair” now she sleep on the couch ... with me ... beside her.

Then the used the ultimate weapon.

“If you REALLY love me, then you will sleep here ... beside me ... on the couch.”

One full size person can’t sleep on the couch. Yes, Mindy is very small, but she is also very pregnant, which means there is absolutely no way we are going to fit.

I have an experiment everyone reading this can try to prove what I said is true.

It will require the participation of two people. Ladies, you have an unfair advantage here, because if you promise your husband/boyfriend/significant other a blow job, AND promise to swallow he will do anything ... A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G ... you ask.

Guys, you are going to have a much tougher row to hoe (another old Southern expression).

You can try begging, but bribes usually work better. Start with promising 30 entire days of chick flicks, then expand on that. Expensive jewelry also helps.

Assuming both sides are successful, the first thing you need to do is find a large beach ball. Guys, you then need to tape the beach ball to the woman’s stomach. Once that is done, try to sleep on the couch.

It is impossible!

The guy can’t sleep on top because of the beach ball. The woman can’t sleep on top because of the beach ball. The woman can’t sleep on her back, because if the beach ball were a real baby, it would crush her internal organs.

The woman can only sleep on her side, with her back against the couch, and the beach ball taking up most of the rest of the couch.

If the guy tries to sleep beside her, then every time she moves, in other words, breathes, the damn beach ball, err, the precious little bundle of joy will kick the guy off the couch.

The only thing that works is for the guy to bend himself like a pretzel. His upper body and legs will be bent in a “V” shape with the beach ball in the space between. The guy’s entire butt, half his thighs, and half his upper body will be hanging over the couch into empty space. His head, knees and feet will be on the couch, but that is about all.

Of course, in real life, the pregnant woman will have fallen asleep in 30 seconds, but the guy will be clutching the back of the couch in a death grip.

Unfortunately, you can’t maintain that death grip. Sooner or later, and usually sooner, your hand or arm will start to cramp, you will loosen your grip and fall flat on your back onto the floor.

Now it might start off that you are only falling 18 or 20 inches off the couch, but by the time you have reached the 47th fall (less than halfway through the night), it will seem like you are falling into an abyss, or bottomless pit.

The pit does have a bottom, however, and soon you start worrying about permanent spinal injury.

You can’t stay on the floor, however, because every so often the pregnant woman will rouse herself enough to say, “Honey, come and lay down beside me.”

Your body screaming in pain, you will try again.

I can tell you for the next six months you will have recurring horrifying dreams of FALLING ... FALLING ... FALLING!

The next day, just when I was thinking about trying to reenlist in the Marine Corps, Mindy called me in to listen to her play the piano. She said she knew it hadn’t been easy, the past few months, but she wanted to play and sing. She had been listening to some of my Dad’s music, and had two songs in particular she wanted me to hear.

The first song was by Al Martino, and this is what Mindy sang: