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.