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The rest of the class was pretty tame compared to the ‘after hours’ version of rescue breathing. The videos they show are a laugh riot. I’ve seen better quality movies on YouTube shot by 10-year olds with their cell phones. I spent $80 for this stupid class. The teacher didn’t have a key, the heat was turned off for the weekend and there was no water to drink. I’m not positive where my money went, but hopefully they threw a few bucks towards a new video shot in the 21st century. They don’t need professional actors or anything. Just using a woman without bangs and a guy without a mustache would be a vast improvement. Also, it would be great if the person calling 911 could use a BlackBerry or an iPhone instead of a Zack Morris phone imbedded in the hump of their car.

Guys, another convenient part of the class is the lunch break. After getting to know one another for the first 3 hours, guess who wants to grab lunch together? Your new hot nursing student friend/future wife, that’s who! Are you kidding me? Your first date! It’s that simple.

Even if your new hot friend brought her own lunch and doesn’t want to leave, just bring her back a drink or a snack or something. The girl I was sitting next to brought her own lunch, so on my out, I asked if she wanted me to bring her back a drink. That small gesture now ranks in this person’s list of all-time nicest things someone has done for her. It was as if I brought her back a watch or something. Guys, that bottle of water just got you a phone number! Best $.99 you’ve ever spent in your life.

The CPR portion of the class ended shortly after we returned from lunch and we immediately moved into First Aid training, so we could get out of there early. Has anyone ever been to a First Aid class? I can’t even emphasize how much of a joke it is. I would compare being First Aid certified to having your Middle School diploma. If I was seriously injured and someone came rushing over to my assistance and told me they were trained in First Aid, I would try to ignore the amount of pain I was in and laugh hysterically in their face. If you’re First Aid certified, it just means you’re over the age of 5 and you’re not dead.

One of the demonstrations we had to complete to get certified was to wrap an Ace bandage around someone’s arm. I couldn’t even make that up! The teacher actually observed every student do this! Make me throw a leg in a splint, drag someone out of a burning car or start a fire using 2 sticks. Something a bit more difficult than putting a band-aid on some nursing hottie’s finger!

After everyone unwrapped each other, we skipped the test, the teacher handed us our certification cards and we were on our way. Guys, if it didn’t work out with you and any of the nursing students during the class, this is the time to listen for their name when the teacher calls them up for their cards. You can then maybe stock them on Facebook and start a conversation there? Yes, this move would be extremely creepy and desperate on your part, but hey, you just went to a CPR class to pick up chicks! You have absolutely nothing to lose!

Just think……….I am now trained to save your baby’s life if they are unconscious or begin choking. How scary is that!?

CPR Class, Chapter 2

After an hour of getting to know one another (basically a first date), we finally got into the classroom. Hot nursing student #1 moved her stuff so I could sit next to her. As soon as we sat down, the teacher says ‘oh good, you’re partnered up already.’ This must have slipped my mind as well! Partners! Guys I am telling you, this is as easy as it gets! When do you ever partner up at a bar?! Never! You spend the entire night trying to partner up! At CPR class, you’re partnered up within the first 10 seconds! If for some reason there’s an odd number, you join 2 girls (remember the fantasy reference in the first CPR blog!?).

So we finally get down to some business. First on the agenda………rescue breathing (seriously, I couldn’t even make this up. Trust me, this story could not be more true). After a short video filmed around the time Jesus was born, we all got up and moved into a connecting classroom. This classroom was completely empty and had enough space to do the next demonstrations (yes, demonstrations). As everyone moseyed in, the teacher says ‘Mike, do you mind being our guinea pig for rescue breathing?’ I answer ‘sure’ before she even finished the question. ‘Good,’ she replies, ‘get on the floor.’

At this point I am looking for some kind of hidden camera. I sense the biggest joke of all time being played on me in the upcoming minutes. I was picturing me handcuffed to one of the dummies and my friends barging through the door hysterically laughing or something along those lines. The only camera that should have been in the room is the one taping the Match.com commercial (or better yet, a scene for a Skinemax movie).

As my back is hitting the ground, hot nursing student #2 is already kneeling next to me. As the teacher gave her instructions, she performed each step and then waited for the next. Keep in mind, this is the rescue breathing demonstration. Around step #6, hot nursing student #2 is on all fours with her upper body directly over me and her face about 3 inches from mine. Match, seriously, this is the final scene for your commercial. Picture this, in slow motion, hot nursing student #2 leaning down towards her ‘helpless victim’ while a voice says ‘step #7………..…dinner and a movie.’ Frigin gold!!!

Back in the Red Cross make-out room, step #7 was not given for a few minutes. For me, it felt like 9 hours. I was thinking I might need actual CPR if step #7 didn’t come soon. The next few minutes consisted of the teacher talking (she could have been explaining how the building was set to explode in the next few seconds and it really wouldn’t have mattered), me awkwardly staring at hot nursing student #2, hot nursing student #2 staring at me and hot nursing students #1, 3 and 4 staring at me and hot nursing student #2 staring at each other (re-read a few times. It makes sense).

A few minutes later, hot nursing student #2 and my softcore demonstration sadly came to an end, although the party was far from over. Everyone needed to partake in the demonstrations, so now 2 of the students got on the ground while the other 2 kneeled over them. Don’t worry Jack, I took diligent notes like you asked me to. I jotted down every detail of the nursing students rolling around on the floor, doing pretend mouth-to-mouth breaths, lifting each other’s legs in the air, folding their arms over their chests and continuously moving their hair out of their faces while giggling. Talk about your all-time backfires, huh?

To be continued…………….

CPR Class, Chapter 1

I started forming a ‘top 3 worst things to do on a weekend’ list in my head as I was driving to my Child/Infant CPR and First Aid certification class on Saturday morning. As I pulled into the Red Cross parking lot, my own funeral was still sitting at #2.

I walked in the building and noticed a few people sitting in the waiting area while the teacher was on her cell phone trying to unlock one of the classroom doors. She didn’t have the key. Of course she didn’t have the key! Why would she have the key!? I thought about pouring my scolding hot coffee into my eyeballs until I actually took a gander at the 5 ‘students’ sitting on the couch. Luckily I stopped myself because I was going to need my eyes today!!

All week, as I constantly explained to Jacky that I am BAT certified and would eventually find my 1996 certification card in my old bedroom at my parent’s house, I failed to ask myself the most important question about what to expect from an infant/child CPR class………what kind of people go to these types of classes? I actually don’t know how I missed it. I was so caught up in the negative, I didn’t even think of the Red Cross as being a hidden jewel for singles everywhere. Think about it, who needs to get certified in CPR? NURSING STUDENTS!!!!!!

The Red Cross needs to advertise on Match.com (first, hire me as their marketing manager and then start advertising). They should have a video on YouTube, commercials on TV, ads in magazines and my actual class should seriously be considered for the ad. Even using me as the lead male would get them new customers. I was the frigin Brad Pitt of the Red Cross on Saturday. I did not spend my day in a classroom; I spent it in every guy’s nurse/patient roleplay fantasy!

I was seriously a sitting duck as soon as I walked in the waiting room. I was like a nip at an AA meeting. Me and 5 chicks locked in a classroom for 7 hours? It was borderline unfair. If you played your cards right, any guy could have had their pick at any of these girls after the class. Young, hot, sweet, caring nursing students who are all a few years away from making $100k a year. You automatically have their attention as soon as you walk in because if you’re getting CPR certified, you obviously care about people. And not just regular people, babies!! You are attending this class to learn how to help an unconscious or choking infant! You took the time out of your busy weekend schedule because you care about cute, little helpless babies! Hey, single guys, just copy and paste those last 3 sentences directly into your Match profile! You can then change your profile name from Not Your Average Joe (actual name of friend on Match) to Baby Saver!

As we waited for someone to bring the key to open the classroom, the teacher asked us why we were taking the class. After 5 responses of ‘we need to get CPR certified because we’re hot nursing students,’ it was my turn. I was completely unprepared! As the others answered, I was teetering between recently adopting an orphan whose parents died in the tsunami a few years ago or legally adopting my Godson whose mother recently abandoned him on my doorstep (sorry Iris, but you were going to have to take one for the team here. By the way, if a random hot nursing student asks you if you’re the traveling gypsy on a quest to find the fountain of youth, just go with it!).

I eventually told them that I was a soon-to-be first time dad that wanted to be totally prepared for any emergency. They melted like popsicles in the desert. It turned out to be just as effective as the tsunami tale. You know how much chicks love guys that are already taken? It’s a challenge for them. Girls are trained to figure out ways to get whatever they want, so when they can’t have something, it drives them crazy! A young, happily married guy about to have a baby……let the games begin!!!

To be continued……………

One(hundred)sies

There’s a new bag at my parent’s house every time I visit, there’s a new package in the mail every other day and the number of ‘maternity’ charges on my credit card are rising. Onesie mania has begun!

Jack held up a onesie the other day and asked me what I thought. It had been in a manilla envelope on our counter for a few days, so I was anxious to see what was inside. As she was holding and I was observing, so many questions came to mind. My first to her was obviously ‘how much did this cost?’ If she answered $1, I would have told her that she got ripped off. She answered with ‘$20.’ Of course.

This onesie had a picture of a dinosaur on the front with ‘RAWR’ written underneath. OK, that’s fine. Dinosaurs are cool. At least it wasn’t a lamb or a flower or something. The problem with this particular onesie is that the dinosaur looked like it was drawn by a blind person with no arms. I thought it was a charity thing. Like sick kids in hospitals make these and the proceeds go to finding their cure or whatever. Nope. This was real. This was an actual onesie that made an actual profit for someone.

So obviously I started thinking of the reason that I’m not making onesies for a living!? The blind guy with no arms is sitting on a beach somewhere soaking in the sun and my hard earned money, laughing every time some idiot buys one of his ‘works of art.’ He must seriously chuckle every time he receives an email saying another onesie was sold. I bet he even looks up the buyer on Facebook just to put a face with a sale.

I can’t hate this person. This person is a genius! I’m sure he has a hard time putting on suntan lotion, but he knows how to make a living! Think about it, what person is more apt to buy expensive crap than a 1st time pregger? They’ll buy anything (example A – the dinosaur onesie made in the dark)! I need to buy onesies wholesale, judging by the dino onesie all I need is a Sharpie and I’m pretty sure that’s it! Oh, a website. Mikesonesies.com. Done!

I don’t really need any clever ideas. Maybe a list of animals? Puppy, done. Giraffe, done. Elephant, done. They don’t even need to be cute animals. Any animal will do! Pig, frog, rhino, a frigin dinosaur! All hideous animals, but on a onesie? The cutest thing your new son or daughter could possibly wear! Also, I clearly don’t even need any brilliant wording underneath. Under the picture of the dog – roof. The cat – meow. The cute little chickadee – chirp, chirp.

So many ideas are already coming to mind! Picture this, a onesie with a good sized button sown right in the middle. Above the button reads ‘Cute as a…..’ Are you saying a new pregger wouldn’t buy that!? That’s as good as gold right there! As soon as Jacky reads this, she’s gonna Google ‘cute as a button’ onesies! She will eventually find one and buy it for $20+.

Damn, I basically just gave the tanned, no-armed genius his next brilliant idea.

Stay tuned for the results of my Child/Infant CPR class tomorrow (that I am taking alone). I keep trying to tell Jack that I’m BAT certified, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Recovery Week

I have been doing P90X for 3 weeks now. This is my first ‘recovery week’ where there are no strenuous leg or upper body videos, just some stretching and light cardio workouts. I haven’t skipped 1 day and have been eating healthy. I haven’t been dieting per se, but I’ve definitely cut down on my desserts, fried foods and large portion meals (I did eat an entire Hawaiin pizza on Saturday night followed by a Chipburger, but BEFORE Saturday I was eating healthy). Come to think of it, Super Bowl Sunday was a wash too since I ate non-stop from 3 to 10, but didn’t have an actual meal. Oh well, I snowshoed before!

I do the videos to the max. I do as many push-ups, pull-ups, squats and lunges as I can. I can say with confidence that I am doing each workout to the best of my ability. Even after 3 weeks, I can do more push-ups and pull-ups than I could a month ago.

I want to believe that it’s working so far, but I’m not 100% convinced. Besides the few extra reps, I don’t see any kind of results. Plus, the main reason I’m a little aggravated is that I’ve gained 8 lbs since I started. I don’t think that’s normal!

I haven’t been Spinning and running as much as I planned, but to be honest, I’m pretty beat after the workouts. I don’t even think I could run after a few of the videos, especially the leg days. Everything I read/watch says that you’re supposed to lose weight just doing the videos and following the diet. I am not following the P90X diet, but I know how to do diet. I am not eating many fats or sugars and I’m taking in a ton of protein. Am I not eating enough? I have considered this. I’m currently consuming around 2,200 calories and 85g of protein per day. I could maybe have more protein, but I don’t think that’s the missing link.

Like I said, I know how to diet. I know there are ups and downs and I’m not losing sleep over the lack of results thus far. But it definitely has my attention!

I know if I start running, I will lose weight, but I really don’t want to. My back has been very sore since I started working out again. I have been doing everything I can to take care of it, but it obviously didn’t heal as much as I would have liked. I workout very delicately and even skip a few of the exercises that are not very pleasant on the lower back. There’s not much else I can do. I started doing P90X to help strengthen my whole body and mainly my core, which hopefully takes some pressure off my lower back. Yes, my back felt great during November and December doing absolutely nothing, but that’s not realistic. I got lazy, lost all my muscle and gained almost 15 lbs.

I hated resting during that time, but I understand that my body needed it. I had been training for 2 marathons since last November (with a herniated disc). There’s never a perfect scenario, I suppose. For example, if you’re overweight, running will help you lose weight, but if you’re overweight and out of shape, you can’t run. It’s never easy! I remember running 1 mile, 1 mile! That was my goal, for months, just running 1 mile over and over again until I could do it with ease. Hey, you gotta start somewhere!

I guess I’m back to the ‘1 mile.’ Eating right and working out. It takes time and it wears at your patience for sure. If it was easy, everyone would be thin and fit, right?

NYC Red Carpet

I finally purchased one of the professional photos from NYC, so I figured I’d post it. It also cost me $30, so I’m making the most use out of it as I can.

After you cross the finish line, you are herded down a 1.5 mile narrow path towards freedom. Along this road of misery, the race volunteers hand you ‘free’ things so you can try to pretend that you haven’t been running for 5 straight hours. They give you ‘complementary’ waters, Gatorades, NYC bagels, chips, granola bars, etc. Before you reach the bag pick-up area, they hand out the medals.

The medals are the sole reason I run these things! To many, these medals are small, cheap pieces of fake gold hanging from a ribbon. To me, this is a reward representing 5 hours of pure agony on top of 4 months of dieting, training, 20-mile runs, no sleeping in on Saturdays, protein shakes, 6 a.m. Spin classes, hard-boiled eggs, blisters, running with a herniated disc, hours of stretching and most importantly, over $5,000 donated to Children’s Hospital Boston.

I can’t wait to do it again.

After they hand out the medals, the next station was a ‘red carpet’ area with dozens of photographers set up like paparazzi. So, we walked the red carpet and got our picture taken like celebrities. It was actually pretty cool. At this point I was absolutely freezing, could barely stand and was dry heaving every few seconds, but it was a nice way to end the race.

Also, if you’re looking at this picture thinking ‘wow, they look like horrid hell!’, well this is what you look like after running 32 miles! It ain’t pretty! We’re not about to win a beauty pageant or a hygiene contest by any means! If you want to look good at a finish line, go run/walk a 5k.

Lovell

We spent this past weekend in Lovell, ME at a friend of a friend’s house.

We went snowshoeing all day on Saturday. The weather was absolutely perfect, the snow was deep and the views along the trails were amazing.

Four dogs joined the 9 (and a half) of us snowshoeing. Yes, that is a little pug behind Jacky in the picture above. We tried to talk the owner into a pug swap, but she was well aware of what she would be receiving. It wasn’t happening.

The rest of the weekend was spent eating and drinking followed up by more eating and drinking. The majority of conversations revolved around the baby, the pregnancy, the Godparents, the nursery, babysitters, breast feeding, waking up in the middle of the night, baby names, baby middle names, baby nicknames, etc, etc.

Don’t worry, that’s ginger ale in Jack’s wine glass. She didn’t want to feel completely left out.

CRIBS

No, not MTV Cribs. Actual baby cribs, like the place where real human babies sleep. That’s how I spent my Saturday……….crib shopping.

Crib shopping wasn’t so bad, minus the disgusting prices of all this baby crap. Cribs are $500. $500!!!!! These thieves actually charge you this price for a convertible cage that you keep your baby in to sleep and poop. And they have no idea where they are! The baby doesn’t know if you got the crib at Pottery Barn or an actual barn in the middle of the woods. The crib, like everything else a girl owns, is for the ‘ooh’s and the ‘ah’s’ when a new guest walks into the nursery. That’s all. Will the baby be comfortable? Is this price in our budget? Will this crib even fit in the room? None of the answers to these questions matter. When you hear your wife ask: ‘is this the cutest crib you have EVER seen!?!?,’ then you just bought yourself a crib.

The worst part of crib shopping was couple watching. It’s scary to think the people I saw on Saturday were months away from reproducing. While Jacky was trying to figure out a reason to buy the wood sign that said ‘Thank Heaven for Little Girls’, I was listening in horror to how the preggers in the store were talking to their husbands. I couldn’t get over it. ‘Honey, we are getting this,’ ‘we are getting that,’ ‘this is how we’re doing this.’ It was a little frightening; I’m not going to lie. Honestly, I don’t really care what kind of crib we get, but Jack at least asks me if I like it. Half of the guys’ were even holding their wives’ purses! I wanted to ask one of them if their balls were somewhere inside the purse, but I figured they were already having a horrific day.

After a lap around the store, I had seen enough. Brown or white, big or gigantic, $500 or $800. Got it. Jack – brown, big and $500. Done. On the way in, I saw a great spot to hang while Jack narrowed down 20 identical brown cribs to 3 or 4. I told her I was going to check out the rocking/gliding chairs for her. So caught up in the excitement of spending a week’s paycheck on baby stuff, she failed to notice the 50” flat-screen TV on the wall above the row of chairs. I plopped down in a lovely Charleston Upholstered Convertible Rocker that was $789 ($1,198 with matching ottoman). The Bruins were up 4-1. I watched the entire 2nd period. I love crib shopping.

Co-owner

I was completely unaware that finding out the sex of the baby is a highly debated topic. I thought some people found out and some didn’t. I didn’t know that some people were extremely adamant about one side or the other. One of the very first questions people ask is ‘are you going to find out the sex of the baby?’ That’s your first question, really? I have so many questions for myself nevermind questions others must have for me.

Right off the bat, how about ‘Jesus, are you ready for this?’ Ummm, is anyone really ready for this? I don’t know how to start the dishwasher, change the oil in my car or cook any kind of meal more complicated than cereal, but I’m going to own a human being soon. Yea, I said own.

Luckily (for me and the baby’s sake), I am just a co-owner. Another plus for the baby is that the other co-owner is a Nurse Practitioner and has probably held and taken care of more infants than Octomom. Jack’s changed more diapers in her sleep than I have in my whole life. That’s really not saying much. Even if she’s only changed 1, it would still be a shutout.

Come to think of it, changing diapers can’t be anywhere near as bad as cleaning up after Tula. If the baby pees, I throw the diaper away. Done. If Tula pees where she’s not supposed to (statistics show this number to be around 30% of the time), I use about half a roll of paper towels to soak up the pee from my carpet (while she’s trying to bite me), spray ¼ can of stain remover on top, use another half a dozen sheets of paper towels to pick that up, yell at her and then wash the remaining pee off my hands. 1-0, baby.

If the baby poops, I wipe up a little and throw the diaper away. I know you’re thinking that Tula has to win this category because you don’t have to wipe her. You would think that if you were assuming Tula was a normal dog and not the Spawn of Satan. First of all, I have pick up her crap every time with a sandwich baggie and throw it in the dumpster outside. This isn’t too bad, but it’s obviously not something I wish to do 2-3 times per day. Some times, not everything comes out as clean as I would like. So, just like the poop-covered baby, I have to carry Tula inside so she doesn’t sit down anywhere (again, while she’s trying to bite me) and clean her with a baby wipe (yes, we have baby wipes in our house for the dog). I’ll split this one down the middle. I’m sure some times a baby’s diaper is so disgusting that your nose hairs actually disinigrate, but wiping Tula’s ass is just plain degrading.

Both kid and dog going simultaneously would be the mother of all evils. Picture this – me changing a FULL, smelly diaper while staring at Tula pissing in the kid’s carrier………..2nd anxiety attack.