Is it wise to put your "Diaper Pail" next to the heat register?

Here are a couple snapshots of the nursery. Not sure where to put the "Diaper Pail." Sitting next to the heat vent doesn't seem like a wise idea.

Gas Stations on North Dakota Highway #2

Someday I would love to be a part-time trucker.

There is just something about shifting gears that I really enjoy. I am also fascinated with air brakes. Plus, don't even get me started with those chrome mud flaps with the lounging lady.

Unfortunately, I am not a trucker.

However, I do feel like I got a good handle on the best gas stations in northern North Dakota.

If you are ever planning a trip from Williston to Grand Forks and you are starting to panic because you don't feel like you will make the best gas station stops, just get a hold of me.

I am going to skip all of the spectacular specifics of the great stops on North Dakota Highway 2 and go straight to its best gas station.

That, of course, would the the Grand Forks StaMart.

Need Popcorn Chicken?
They got it.

Need a belt buckle?
Yup.

Need some Black Hills Gold?
Strangely enough, I don't think they have it. But if you are looking for a 3-pound bag of Australian Black Licorice and a dark purple t-shirt with a howling wolf with glittery clouds, you don't have to look any further.

In the past few months, Betsy and I have enjoyed looking at "baby stuff" at Target, a store called Wizard of Kids, and I have even peeked into Baby Gap. During this whole time I have never considered looking at StaMart.

Well, this past weekend I learned that I have made a big mistake not checking out my favorite convenience store.

On Saturday night, Betsy's college friends and parents hosted a "Miracle on Ice" Baby Bash. Baby Debertin started its journey in a test tube and then was quickly placed into a big-ass freezer in Fargo. During its deep freeze, it also had to journey to some unknown destination (most likely Duluth) during the Fargo Flood of '09. The embryo did eventually make its way back to Fargo, thawed (in the fridge, not on the counter) and then turkey-basted back into Betsy. Indeed, a miracle on ice.

Anyways, people were very generous. I mean VERY generous - in time together, prayers, and gifts.

One of the gifts we received was from, you guessed it, StaMart.

You can see the onsie in the photo, but you may have a hard time reading it.

The onsie says, "I'm From North Dakota. Let's Get Drunk."

I love StaMart.

I am so curious what the staff meeting was like a few months ago:

"Hey, you know what we need to display next to the baseball-bat-shaped cigarette lighters?"

"No. What?"

"Baby onsies."

"Dang! That is the best idea I have heard since the time Jim suggested we stack the cases of pop into the shape of the Alamo."

"Okay, hear me out on this. I think we should have the onsies say, 'North Dakota - catch the Spirit and the Spit.'"

"No. How about this, 'North Dakota, our state is flat and our babies are bumpy.'"

"Ah, I don't think so. How about, "I'm from North Dakota, Let's Get Drunk."

"Okay, now we are thinking! That sounds great! You call that guy and let's place an order!"

You now how some parents have special skills or hobbies they share with their children? You know, like a hunting dad may teach a child how to hunt or a crafty mom may teach a child how to knit?

Well, I hope to be one of those dads.

I hope I will be a dad that will teach our daughter to make shifting noises while driving a toy car or perhaps I can be a dad that will teach our son the correct ratings system of evaluating gas station food items.

(Betsy will be the mom that explains that "hot dogs" are not an essential food group like dad says.)

Half a fingernail and Allen Wrenches

I'm bald so that means I have a wide variety of razors I travel with.

I have separate razors for my head and my face. The one for my head actually looks like a Matchbox car with triple razors for the front wheels.

A mighty looking device.

As I was reaching into my dop kit last night, I said, "Jeez, I hope I don't hit my razo..."

"Damn you, razor!"

"What's wrong?" Betsy says.

"Ah, nothin. And by nothing I mean I think I sliced my finger off."

"Oh, okay. Will you scratch my back?"

Although Betsy did tried her "Betsy Best" to share some sympathy, she also was not too concerned about my finger.

In hindsight, it really wasn't that bad, but I do need to wear this huge band-aid on my finger. Today as I was typing at work I thought, "Jeez, what a pain to have to work with this band-aid." So, most of the day I found ways not to have to use my IR finger.

However, my finger came off the injured reserved list this afternoon to put together a crib. As we were monkeying with the Allen wrenches, Betsy and I realized that we were doing something that we have dreamt of doing for the past 5 years - putting together a crib.

A trip to recruit in Fargo meant a stop at the baby store to do a little shopping. We were expecting to have to wait a few weeks to get it, but the lady said, "Hey, we got one here ready for you to take."

When a lady tells Betsy there is a crib available, you are going to have yourself one smiley Betsy! She oddly said, "Oh, I don't know if we need to take it."

I felt like we needed to go into a no-huddle offense and I said, "Betsy! I am backing up the car! Sign that receipt and we are taking that baby bed home."

(I don't know what happened to Betsy. She clammed up. She panicked. But she quickly snapped out of it and we were soon walking out with a crib in hand. Well, we were actually walking out with me kinda hunched over dragging a box and Betsy was glowing.)

So, this afternoon we decided to put it together and had a fun time doing it. For all of you concerned mothers out there, we realize we can't shove all those pillows in the crib. It was just for show. My mom and Betsy have been sewing together. They have made pillows, curtains, bed skirt, and bumpers.

Betsy is 19 weeks preggers in two days. Sometimes when you are starting a family, a sliced finger doesn't really matter that much.

Insight from Lake Metigoshe Fire Dept

Overheard at the Lake Metigoshe Fire Station regarding Baby Debertin:

1. "Just to let you know, it's fine with me if you name your baby Bill."
2. "Remember, it's fine to have sex."
3. "Oh, yeah, have sex. And then later try to remember what that is like."
   

Mock turtlenecks?

There is only one reason I would wear a mock turtleneck. It's to get paint on it so I can feel okay to throw it away. Don't get me wrong, there was a point in my life when I couldn't get enough mock turtleneck. I believe I could probably find a picture of myself wearing a mock turtleneck with light blue Wrangles.

Anyways, I am down to this last Camp Metigoshe mock turtleneck from 1994. It's 16 years old, so I thought I could finally use it as a paint shirt.

It was a fun day to paint! There was about a foot of snow outside, so it made sense to be inside.

You may say, "Kyle and Betsy decided to go the FFA route with blue and yellow. Well, it's not Corn Gold and National Blue, so technically it is not officially FFA. It is Weathered Blue and Palo Verde. (Palo Verde is actually the official tree of Arizona and means "green stick" in Spanish. Even with all of that interesting trivia, the paint just looks yellow.)

This room used to be our bedroom until we moved downstairs. This rooms used to get real cold - one morning we woke up in the winter and it was 50 degrees inside.

Prior to painting, we added a bunch of insulation. However, Betsy one day mentioned that maybe we should keep it kinda cool. This "baby" spent about 8 months of its life frozen in liquid nitrogen. It may enjoy the cold.

Tomorrow the baby is 17 weeks old. We are getting close to the halfway point. We're hoping that last night's experience at the Firemen's Dance in Bottineau was helpful to in the baby's development. We have been reading that we should be talking to Betsy's belly. I think last night was an important development step in getting used to classic rock music.

Talk to you later.

Never compare weight-gain to huge-ass chickens

Three things that are true:

1. I am taller than Betsy. I rarely remember this, but when you take a side-by-side photo to see who has a larger belly, I am reminded that I am taller than Betsy.

2. Boobs will always be a mystery to me. Why do I have them and what the heck is happening to Betsy's?

3. Telling your pregnant wife that the weight she has gained over the past month is more than the size of the large chickens in your freezer, will get you the silent treatment.

I love my pregnant wife. She glows and has become naturally caffeinated.

"Betsy, why does our basement smell like rodeo"

"Dang, Betsy! What smells in our laundry room?"

"I don't smell anything."

"Betsy, just smell it. It smells like rodeo."

"Alright, I will come and smell."

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're right. It does smell like rodeo."

"Thank you."

After about two weeks, we have finally figured out what smells like "rodeo" in our basement. If you have unfortunately never been to a rodeo, "rodeo" smells like wet dirt, oatmeal, and a tad-bit-of manure.

Betsy got new running shoes for Christmas and they are giving off a western scent. It is so bizarre, but her shoes smell like Valley City's Winter Show Building during the month of March.

For me, I kinda like it. I love rodeos. Some of my first "dates" with Betsy were to rodeos! What I love the most is the sound of the announcers. If I could somehow still live at Lake Metigoshe, where I can be a camp director and play old-man hockey, AND be a rodeo announcer, I would probably do it.

I wish there was a way to describe the sound by typing words. But the announcer speaks as if he has a piece of leather stuck in his right check and talks a bit faster than normal. You also have to say these phrases SEVERAL times:
"We got ourselves a good young cowboy from Mandan/Rapid City/Watford City/New Town"
"Comin' outta the Piggly Wiggly shoot..."
"Let's get ready to rumble...."
"We got ourselves a good young cowgirl from Mandan...." (Mandan is the mecca of 'good young cowgirls."

I would give anything to hear a rodeo sometime soon.

However, today we got to hear something we have never heard before in our lives!! The healthy heartbeat of a 16 week 2 day old baby! 140 beat per minute! That has been the best thing I have ever heard!

Our clown doctor put his science fiction looking instrument up to Betsy's belly and within seconds we heard, "wush, wush, wush, wush, wush, wush..."

(Insert a giggly cry by sweet, glowing Betsy and weepy Kyle.)

Every doctor's appointment we go to we enter with some worries and anxiety. In the past few years we have entered doctors' offices with hopes and left in tears. SO, it's been a bit of an adjustment to go to appointments confidently with high hopes.

So, that is also the reason I haven't written so much lately. I'm a little bit of a worrier, so haven't always been brave enough to give updates.

But today, I can give you some updates. We had a great appointment and will be excited for the next one in a month. We have decided not to find out if it is a girl or a boy. There has been so much science and timing in the process that we are looking forward to a surprise.

Betsy has a good lookin' belly. At community theater practice tonight I looked over at Betsy and she was sporting bigger boobs and a nice baby belly. That's my Betsy!

I've been looking for a t-shirt for her to wear that says, "Don't Tap the Glass."

I promise, I will try to keep you more up to date.

Looking forward to the Baby Bash in Fargo on March 6!