I am humbled.

Check out "Precocious Baby Starts Twittering from the Womb" over at Mashable. The article describes a device built by an uber-uber-geek dad-to-be. This device, worn by his pregnant wife, senses the baby's movement (kicks) and then sends a message to @kickbee to document the kick. Here's an excerpt from the amazing dad-to-be's site:

The Kickbee is a wearable device made of a stretchable band and embedded electronics and sensors. Piezo sensors are attached directly to the band, and transmit small but detectable voltages when triggered by movement underneath. An Arduino Mini microcontroller transmits the signals to an accompanying Java application wirelessly via Bluetooth.

I don't know what's cooler: (a) that he built this thing and it works, or (b) his wife for wearing this all day long. I'll call it a tie.

The gauntlet has been thrown down for my next baby, and I accept the challenge. I'm thinking genetically-engineered Vulcan/Elven ears, a working miniature lightsaber, and a fiber optic broadband connection in the womb.

I better get to it.

And after a little under two weeks in the hospital, he's now A-OK and is home. I haven't had a full night's sleep since, but that was expected.

Pics and more info coming when things settle down a bit. But despite the stress, it's a very happy time!

Yeah, that's right, I used the "it" pronoun. I'm tired of the "his/her" business.

Anyway, part of the prep is having a place for The Heir to sleep, eat, and poop. And as a baby, all three can be accomplished in the same room. I tried that once and all it got me was a threat from my wife to spray me with a hose.

The Heir's Chamber required quite a bit of work. First, I was evicted because that spacious room was my office. Then it had to be cleaned out. Then we ordered carpeting. No furniture yet, though. I maintain a milk crate, a couch cushion, and two bungie cords would do the trick, but apparently that's not fashionable. Or responsible. Or legal. But it's easier than painting a mural. I should know, I just painted one.

The Heir's Chamber now has this on a wall. Huzzah!

Here are some close-ups of some of the characters.

The Gill Gang: Don't let their smiles fool you. These fish are hardcore. I painted a shark one night, and the next morning, all that was left was a painting of a shark skeleton and a red tint on half the wall. Plus, the fish were smiling, but I didn't paint them that way. I painted over the scene of the crime and just let them be. I just let them be.

Pinchy: The Host loves crab rangoons. It's the only seafood she'll eat. Which makes me wonder why she wanted a giant crab to be painted on the wall? I hope she realizes that if she's hungry, she can't just carve Pinchy out of the drywall, mix in some cream cheese, deep fry it and then eat it. ... Hm, that sounds pretty good. I know what I'm doing for lunch (just before I call a handyman to fix the drywall).

Soopah: He's an up and coming celebrity, so if you're a paparazzo, take some pics of Soopah. In fact, seeing as how this is a candid pic of Soopah, I might even be a paparazzo myself. Next stop, embarassing photos of Lindsay Lohan. Eh, nevermind, that market is saturated. For now, I'll just stick to pictures of Soopah Star. --Hey, I just got that! Clever.

Dr. Otto Octavius, M.D.: Yes, he has the same name as Spider-Man's archvillain Dr. Octopus's real name. But the octopus people see past Doc Oc's villainous ways and revere him as a hero, a bridge builder between the quadpus (as they call us) and their kind. As such, Otto Octavius is a common name for them, much like Americans like Bob Smith or Terry Bradshaw. I know about a dozen of each! And now we all know at least one Otto Octavius, and he's a doctor to boot!

And please, be polite and don't point out that he only has four tentacles. The Host did that when I painted Otto and it took seven coats of purple paint to completely wash out the octopus tears because their ink glands are also their tear glands. Little known, but true, fact. Well, maybe.

Which makes me, papa-to-be, the unwanted party crasher. On the invitation, I'm like "and guest's guest." Well, consider that party crashed then, because I enjoyed the baby shower tremendously. Then again, any party is awesome after six shots of tequila and anywhere from three to nine beers (I lost count). By the way, if any of the shower attendees are reading this, I lost my camera, my underwear, and one sock. If you found any of them, please send them over.

No, I didn't really get trashed at the baby shower. I save that for only very special occasions, like Thanksgiving and Tuesday afternoons.

The shower was a lot of fun! Friends, family, and lots of baby gifts. We got all kinds of great things, even a robotic babysitter. Sure, The Heir's room is about 25% complete, but it's practically full. The Heir has more toys than I do, and I've been buying toys for 29 years! Well, I'm bigger than s/he will be for many years, so I'll get to play with all those toys whenever I want. What are you going to do about it, Heir? Cry about it? Oh crap, s/he probably will. All night long. For months on end.

Is it too late to register for ear plugs?

And then there's this awesome clip from "Scrubs" that shows what I'm lobbying The Heir's nursery to look like. Thus far my attempts have been rejected, as have my attempts at awesome names, but the struggle continues.

That right there is The Heir. Well, that awesome baby in the middle is The Heir. The outside is The Host. Me, I just fertilize and observe. It's a tough job, but I'm up to the task.

The whole sonogram process is really interesting. The sonogram reader uses all kinds of angles and takes many measurements. Sometimes The Host had to lie on her side or sit up a little bit to get The Heir to move around so we might get a required view.

It was very cool seeing The Heir move, but I think we were all shocked when the technician pushed on a certain spot on The Host's stomach and The Heir shifted into this:

I think it's time to revisit "Optimus Prime" as a name.

My wife and I were looking for a swaddling blanket in anticipation of our first baby. Then we found this and laughed for quite a while. Apparently both of our minds are in the gutter, but this doesn't seem like something we want anywhere near our baby. Or your baby. Or anyone's baby.

Sunday was interesting. We had a false-alarm emergency so instead of Sunday breakfast, we had Sunday hospital visit. The Host and The Heir are both fine, and the morning took quite an upswing when we heard The Heir's heartbeat for the first time. 164 BPM! Awesome!

Monday was my first day in a new office in a long time. When I became a work-at-home employee, I never really had a "first day in the home office." My first week working remotely took place in my dining room, in my bedroom, in my (old) office on a tray table, in my neighbor's bathroom, and finally on a partially-assembled office desk. By comparison, this past Monday I walked downstairs and into my new office, all ready to go. I dressed up (i.e., put on pants) and brought some snacks, but then I realized that my co-worker cats don't like doughnuts and bagels. Guess what I've been having for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all week? If you guessed "increasingly stale doughnuts and bagels," you're right!

Tuesday I saved the world. You're welcome.

Yesterday I went to see Baby Mama. I've heard that when you're expecting a baby, pregnancy comedies are even funnier for both expecting parents. Don't believe the hype. I think the only people that actually believe that are those that have (or strive for) a "typical" pregnancy. And by "typical" I mean a pregnancy written by Woody Allen, Judd Apatow, or some other sans-uterus guy. Maybe I'm just spoiled because The Host isn't a mood swinging, chocolate-covered onion craving, insanely demanding pregnant woman like in the movies. But is anyone actually like that, or do those movies give pregos license to act that way? Baby Mama was indeed funny, but The Host doesn't act at all like the pregnant character in the movie. Well, except for that whole peeing in the sink thing. Never the less, there wasn't any part in the movie where I thought "Ah, now I understand what's happening there because we're expecting. All this time I had no idea why those ladies' bellies were getting bigger before the baby character was introduced." I give Baby Mama 4.57/5 stars. If my wife wasn't pregnant, I'd give Baby Mama 4.57/5 stars. Go see it, whether or not you're growing a human being.

So that leads us to today, May 1, also called the First of May. If you don't mind F-bombs, and enjoy songs about outdoor activities usually reserved for indoors, check out Jonathan Coulton's brilliant song "First of May" (free download). I highly recommend you check out his other songs, a lot of which are also free downloads (after which you'll be hooked and will want to buy all of his songs, like I did). Obviously I'm a big fan, so when I found out earlier this week that Coulton will be having a concert in Pittsburgh, I jumped on tickets faster than a mood-swinging pregnant lady on a chocolate-covered onion.

The first phase of the Great Reorganization is my eviction from my spacious home office right down the hall from my bedrooom to the smaller (used-to-be guest) room on the first floor. This actually doubles my commute. Rather than taking ten seconds to amble in to work, I will soon have to make a left turn, negotiate a flight of stairs, and make a right turn to get to work.

I had no idea having a baby would require such significant changes! Hopefully this is the worst of it.

By the way, I'm not the only one getting evicted here. My eviction causes a tear-down of the guest room, which essentially evicts all future guests preemptively. I was going to invite you over for a slumber party. Guess what, can't do it now. You've been evicted in advance. Don't blame me, we're in the same boat. Or rather, we've been kicked out of the same boat.

But I guess it's only fair since after just nine months of residence, The Heir will also get evicted. And given what other women have said about the condition of their bodies immediately after birth, it's a safe bet that The Heir will not be getting back any of its security deposit. Putting holes in the walls to hang pictures is one thing, all that "coming into the world" mess is quite another!

(from Epicurious - Name Your Baby "Crunch" and Make $25,000)

Vlasic Pickles—you know, the one represented by the stork channeling Grouch Marx—is holding a contest to find a May-born baby to become its official Vlasic Stork Baby of 2008. In addition, if the parents decide to give their child the middle name "Crunch," they get a $25,000 savings bond.
...
Even if the winning family doesn't give their kid a name that is a sound you hear when you step on a bug, they'll get a $20,000 U.S. Savings Bond and a year's supply of Vlasic Pickles. "Crunch" gets the bond increased to $25,000.

The Heir is due in October, so it's out of the running for the Vlasic contest. That's bittersweet because I like the name Crunch and wouldn't mind an excuse to use it, but I'm not doing it for free. However, this contest does give me an idea.

If I can raise $25,000, I think The Host would be onboard with "Optimus Prime" as The Heir's name. It's like the Vlasic contest, except better because we'd have a child with an awesome middle and first name. I really don't see a downside to this.

So how do I raise $25,000? Well, I'm not sure. Any ideas? If you're feeling extraordinarily generous and would like to donate the full $25,000, but don't like "Optimus Prime" for some unexplainable reason I couldn't possibly fathom, you can pick The Heir's name from my previously published list of awesome baby names. If we have twins, you get a combo deal -- two for $45,000!

The search for funding begins!