The arrival

This is such a special blog posting that I feel like there should be confetti and a clown making balloon animals. It's very exciting to announce that Rachel and I are parents again. Liam McCartney Ritchason was born on March 20 at 11:32 a.m. (exactly one minute later than Ella). He weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces and was 19 ½" long. Basically he has long bird-like legs like his father and is destined for a life of looking anorexic and avoiding shorts each summer. Anyway, it's a thrilling time at our house.

The delivery actually went rather quickly. Rach started to feel some discomfort and called for the nurse to come check her. She took a look and ran out the door. In just a matter of minutes it became like a set change to a Broadway show. People were coming in as others were exiting, carts were being wheeled in, instruments were on hand, and the spotlights were switched on. Rachel did great with the exception of her spitting in my face at one point, but she apologized mid-push.

There's two things I'm really tired of hearing. First, people saying "Well that's an interesting name." That's actually quite ironic when you hear it coming from a nurse named Cassany. Even my brother-in-law Andy had to give us a hard time about naming him after a celebrity. This coming from a guy who named his youngest son Clay Beckham King. I told him at least we chose a famous Brit that has some actual talent, unlike a guy who simply plays soccer in between injuries. Secondly, no we did not steal the name from Tori Spelling. If anything it's the other way around. I let the name slip when I bought a George Foreman grill from her yard sale two months ago.

While at the hospital there were a few things that made me chuckle. One of the doctors came in and said "Congratulations. Now you have a hunting buddy." Obviously we had never met before. Me hunting is about as likely as me ever watching another Lindsay Lohan movie. It's not gonna happen. I think Liam's more of a "lay on the couch watching Idol" buddy. Another time the lactation nurse came in to give Rachel a refresher course on how to breastfeed. She said Liam needed a little suck training. I think suck training is how Rachel and I got into this predicament to begin with. People think that having long legs is a blessing. Sure you can hang stuff up high or easily reach the top shelf, but it also has its disadvantages. The first night in the hospital I was sleeping soundly on a rickety five foot rollaway bed when the nurse brought Liam back in his crib and ran right into my ankles hanging off the bed. It was kind of like that scene in Misery where psycho Annie Wilkes smashes James Caan's ankles with a sledgehammer.

Finally, there's nothing like being at the hospital with Rachel's dad. It's actually like being out on the town with Paris Hilton, except a lot less skanky and without the extensions. Everyone knows him from the nurses to the chaplain to the crazy guys trying to find the mental ward. The best part of it is that he only ever recognizes about 1 out of every 10 people. The rest of them he fakes it by saying "Hey guy" or "Good to see you." After walking away and asking him who that was, he simply states "Oh, I have no idea." Classic.

Cleanup of dirty secrets in aisle 10

Ella and I ventured back to Wal-Mart this morning and it is apparent that I could write a book just about my adventures at the supercenter. We picked up a few assorted items and headed to the checkout. I took everything out of the cart and the woman began scanning each of them. Here's how the rest of the exchange went down. The cashier's words are legit but mine have been made up for dramatic/comedic effect. Basically I didn't have the balls to really say anything and just responded with "uh huh."

Her: You gonna pay for that? (pointing to the donut sack that Ella was holding)
Me: Oh I'm sorry. I forgot she had that. (handing over aforementioned donut sack)
Her: You weren't trying to steal that were you?
Me: Well times are tough but I think I can afford the 45 cent donut (followed by a lame chuckle).
Her: Ya you don't wanna get caught shoplifting. Trust me.
Me: Thanks for the advice.
Her: I once shoplifted a digital camera from K's Merchandise, but they caught me in the parking lot.
Me: Better luck next time.
Her: I had to stay in jail for 60 days. They're not nice to you in jail.
Me: Ya I've seen Ernest Goes To Jail and it was brutal.
Her: Luckily my mom and dad got me out.
Me: Wow, they must really love you to keep you locked up for two months.
Her: (smoky laugh) Here's your receipt. Have a nice day.
Me: You too sticky fingers.

More disgusting than a can of Pringles

So I was in the office making copies this afternoon when I heard the faint sound of my friend the janitor. She was telling the assistant superintendent's wife of all people that she suffers from irritable bowel syndrome. As if that wasn't enough she added that she "can't even eat a potato chip without taking a sh*t." I started giggling so hard to myself that I almost did the same in my pants.

Foul mouthed nine year olds

I was grading some papers this afternoon when I stopped dead in my tracks. A student had written her explanation for an estimation problem with what looked like an inappropriate four-letter word. I think she meant "took" but it came out as something else. Look at the second word she wrote and judge for yourself.