I'm getting tired and the baby isn't even born yet!

Our Chinese acupuncturist told us I had to step up my duties around the house. As I've mentioned already, my wife is in her late 30s, so we're doing everything possible to help her body bring this baby to full term. For me, that means household chores galore.

I'm actually okay with this stuff. Since we got married pretty late, I had to be a pretty self-sufficient bachelor. I can cook a decent meal, don't mind doing the grocery shopping, and I hate a messy bathroom and kitchen sink. I am, however, a pack rat and tend to pile things up on my desk and in my bookshelves. That makes me sort of a Felix Ungar/Oscar Madison all in one, I suppose. (Yeah, you Millennials out there need to Google that.)

The good doctor told Sophie no bending down to reach something like a pot in the dishwasher and no reaching up to grab something like a cup from the cupboard. The two actions apparently cut off the 'life support' to the child. So, I'm right there to grab and reach for whatever Sophie needs. I also scold her every time she does the Asian squat.

Because of morning sickness, and because this seems to help, I cut little apple wedges for Sophie every morning and put them in a Ziploc. I also prepare her herbal tea twice a day, and accompany her on our nearly nightly shopping trips to the market, since her cravings change so often.

But I gotta commend Sophie's mom on bringing us a care package of food almost every week. That's pretty sweet. Doesn't mean we always eat the stuff, but it's still pretty sweet.

This past week, we went to a restaurant called Totoraku in West L.A. It is probably going to be our last major dining indulgence for a while. We thought it would be okay for Sophie since the omakase-style meal is mostly beef, but it turns out that much of that beef is raw, so no, it wasn't so worth the price of admission for her. (That's beef tongue on the grill, BTW, and it was delicious. A third of the meat dishes were served (raw or seared) before the portable charcoal grill got to the table.)

We all brought wine to the dinner that night, so with eight people on our table, we had one bottle for every two people. Guess who had to drink an extra portion? Yup, it was the one night I did not especially enjoy having so much good wine.

This place is kinda exclusive, though I'm not exactly sure why, so good luck getting a reservation. But if you do go, don't bring your pregnant wife. She will not appreciate the lack of good ventilation in the place, and neither will the baby.

Did I mention I'm freakin' freaking out?

I absolutely don't know what to do with myself. I mean, if I were younger, this would be way too much for me to handle. Now that I'm older, this is only moderately too much for me to handle.

The first thing I did was think about all the dangerous stuff I have in my small one-bedroom condo. Pretty much all the furniture has sharp corners. This is crazy! I remember watching this baby boy playing with his mom in the waiting room in my eye doctor's office. The mom was saying, "Come here! Come here!" So the baby boy picks up his little baby feet, one by one, hesitates, then trips and falls head first right into the front edge of the sofa.

Heard this stuff from Home Depot
works pretty decently on most
furniture, and is cheaper
than the childproof foam.

You could not see this one coming. It began all so innocently. His forehead grazes the front of the sofa material. If it were my sofa, which is made of wood, that forehead would be gashed open and bleeding all over the carpet!

The boy starts screaming and crying and I think, dang, his neck could be snapped. But mom says, "There, there. It's okay. It's alright." It's okay? It's alright? I'd be freaking out if that happened to my son. Heck, I'm not technically even a dad yet and I'm freaking out.

I have a dangerously sharp coffee table that matches the sofa and love seat. That's definitely going into storage. I have a TV console with very sharp edges and corners that even I manage to ding myself every time I take something out of the drawers. All the bookcases, the desk in the bedroom, all the chemicals such as detergent in the bathroom cabinets — all dangerous to a toddler!

Sophie said we need to buy a house with at least three bedrooms. Okay, we're not exactly spilling over in our armpits with cash, so, no, the three-bedroom house is out for now. (It took me a few hours to convince her that now was not the time to be thinking of moving or buying a house.) I know, I know, house prices are low and interest rates are scratching bottom, but we're going to have a baby soon, and that means one of us (probably her) will probably not be working during that period.

This one is from Orbit Baby. I like
the fact that it's a child car seat also
and includes a car-seat dock for easy attaching.

Oh, what to do, what to do! We got taxes to file, a speeding ticket to contest, bills to pay, and so many things to consider. And get this. This morning, she tells me there's this really cool baby stroller that costs a thousand bucks. She says we could probably be fine with a $300 one from Target, but the $1,000 one will be forever in the back of our mind.

You know, the baby will never know the difference, I say. "That's not true! The $1,000 one is really comfortable!" she says. Something tells me we're going to be $1,000 poorer very soon.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking of all sorts of ways to monetize myself. You know, I've been a pretty lazy guy now that I'm in my 40s. I work one full-time job and do an occasional freelance gig on the side. I barely have the energy to do much else than Facebook and Tweet a few times a day. How the heck am I gonna have the energy to raise a child? No wonder my dad let my mom raise the kids by herself!

But no, one thing I am determined to do is not be like my father. I love the guy but he is not the father I plan to be. So in terms of monetizing myself, I'm gonna get my priorities straight first and be a good father first, an overachieving bread winner second. Go suck it, all you overachieving parents!