A humbling week

About two years ago, I was mesmerized by an infomercial for the P90X exercise system.  If you've heard of it, you know that it is - to put it nicely - rigorous.  (click here if you don't know what it is).  I actually watched the whole 1/2 hour sales pitch.  Two years later, with lots of time on my hands while the Boy is at school 3 days a week, I finally pulled the trigger and purchased the set of 13 1-hour long exercise DVDs.  I started the program last Wednesday. 

Today, I cannot lift my arms above my shoulders.  Which makes me angry.  But I suppose that means it's working?  Yeah, angry angry swear at the ceiling working.   I knew I was out of shape - have been my whole life - but come ON.  It's very humbling.

I think that's been the theme for this last week - humbling.  Everything happening in Japan is making me feel very small.  Humbling.  Learning that the 2 year old daughter of close friends is beginning chemotherapy today for newly diagnosed Leukemia.  Extremely humbling.  And watching my wife fight through nausea, picking up an extra class to teach and working through most of her 'spring break' is humbling. 

Oh, nausea?  I should probably explain that.  The Boy is about to have his universe rocked from it's self-centered axis this October, as he will become a big brother to the growing baby inside Mommy.  It's fascinating to watch him try to comprehend how exactly that happens.  When we announced our pregnancy to him last week, using pictures and diagrams from the Pregnancy Week by Week book, he had some Very. Specific. Questions.  Here are some of the gems he's shared with me and/or my wife at bedtime over the last couple of days:

Why does he have a power cord?  What is he plugged into?

How does he climb up to drink from your milkbags?  Do all mommies have milkbags?

Is he going to want to play with some of my toys?  Because I can probably pick some that he won't break.

What does he do all day in there? 

Is he cold because he's naked?

How can he be as small as a grape?  That's not even possible.

I don't want to be a brother.  I told you already, I want to be an astronaut.

How will you know when he's ready to come out? (quickly followed by the dreaded:  WHERE does he come out?)

I'm sure over the next several months, there will be several other observations and questions from the brilliant mind of the Boy, so I'll be sure to share them here (unless they get uniquely inappropriate for a general audience, of course :-) 

Also in the next several months, our parenting roles will likely switch, with my wife staying home with the newborn and me returning to the commuter's paradise known as "a real job."  So if you know of anything....