Labor Playlist

It's amazing how much music can pick you up or bring you down.

The other day while driving in to work, I heard "The Underdog" by SPOON playing on The Spectrum, a channel on Sirius XM.

The first time I heard that song was the mid-00s. Things were beginning to take a more steep dive in the country and, specifically, at The Evening Sun in Hanover, where I was news editor at the time.

I felt as though I was the underdog, fighting an uphill battle.

Hearing the song's closing lines made me want to pump my fist in the air:

But you won't hear from the messenger

Don't wanna know 'bout something that you don't understand

You got no fear of the underdog

That's why you will not survive, right!

Here's the full song, courtesy of YouTube:

But there are songs, most definitely, that have me near tears. Sometimes, I need to hear them — like that sadness feels good, if that makes sense.

"Raining in Baltimore" by Counting Crows, for decades, was my go-to sad song. If you heard me playing that song, it was a sign that I wasn't just feeling depressed, but that I'd blanketed myself in it.

Here's a few lines that often resonated with me:

These train conversations are passing me by

And I don't have nothing to say 

You get what you paid for

But I just had no intention of living this way

Here's the song, again courtesy of YouTube, if you're feeling melancholy:

In a few days, Jen and I will be heading to the hospital to bring our second child into this world. 

No, I'm not depressed about that. 

But, like we did with Sophie, we'll be making a "Labor Playlist" for Jen to listen to as she battles contractions or is told to push.

We have a few songs in mind, but what are some of your suggestions?

Singing sister

Jen and I have taken to calling our impending child Doodlebug.

Jen and her mother and sister will sometimes call Sophie "Sophiebug," and so Jen suggested "Doodlebug" shortly after we learned she was pregnant. It's stuck.

What makes my heart melt, though, is when Sophie goes up to Jen's tummy and talks to the baby. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's beautiful.

The other day, Soph even was singing — in Sophie-eese — to Doodle while resting her head on the baby bump.

Even the cynic in me went, "D'awwwww."

Our Doodlebug will be here in a little over a month, and I'm looking forward to the relationship built between my children.

Now, I know from experience with my brothers, as well as plenty of TGIF comedies on ABC, it's not always going to be smooth sailing.

But maybe Soph will still sing to Doodle.

You heard me

The other day, I needed to stop looking at the stories I was editing.

My brain was beginning to turn to mush, the kind of mush that comes from hours of reading details about local municipalities, such as the phone number, mailing address, town council members and what days trash is picked up.

So, like so many other mid-30-somethings these days, I turned to Facebook and found a friend had posted one of those click bait quizzes.

Steph posts such things from time to time, and I usually don't click. But this was "What Muppet Hides Inside You?"

You heard me.

Anyway, I needed the mental distraction. So, sipping my black coffee, I took the quiz.

The questions included things such as, "Out of the following adjectives, your friends would say you are most...?" Or, "Out of the following activities, what sounds the most appealing?" Or, "When you and your friend or lover get into an argument, you apologize by...?"

I clicked the most appropriate responses, then was told Animal hides inside me.

Animal

You heard me.

Anyway, the description that accompanied the results:

You can be quite the rager, and definitely know how to have a good time! You love music, and may or may not let it all out on the drums, (or some other instrument)... but you certainly connect with good jams, and are always up for a great concert. When it comes to other areas of your life, you are adventurous. You like to try new things, meet other wildlings, and let loose whenever possible. You know how to party, most certainly, but you also thoroughly enjoy a day in bed, or two, or even three!

It's been many moons since last I engaged in any sort of real raging. My college and post-college years could be described as a little Animal-like. I wasn't too crazy, I don't think, before I met Jen. But I had a good time.

These days, though, I'm more likely to be singing songs from "Mary Poppins" or "Cinderella" than Journey or Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

"I do not think that's accurate," I wrote on Steph's original post.

"Maybe it was once," she replied. "Hence, it's hiding inside of you."

That made me sad.

The sadness was driven home further that Friday night.

Much like my tween and teen years, I found myself watching "Full House." Nick At Nite has become the echo of my youth the way it was the echo of my parents' when they were my age.

However, as the Tanner family navigated another trial and tribulation that was solved through family love and understanding, something occurred to me.

This time, instead of watching TGIF with my parents and younger brothers, I was accompanied by my wife and 2-year-old daughter who refused to go to sleep.

Through the television's glow, I looked at them.

There is nothing I would not do for Jen or Sophie. Or for our unborn kid, due in February.

That includes being silly so they giggle and have a good time. Or playing an eclectic mix of tunes and dancing like a maniac. Or going on adventures driving around the countryside or wandering stretches of the Appalachian Trail. Or encouraging them to try new things and lose their fears. Or encouraging them to sleep because sleep is a great thing and you should really try to sleep more often because why are you still awake?

Anyway, maybe Steph is right.

I am still Animal-like, just he's hiding inside and coming out in a different way.

You heard me.

Advice from the hairy buddha

It has been about a week since Jen, Sophie and I announced on social media we'd be expanding our family by one, due in late February.

It was Jen's idea to make up a mock front page; I just ran with it after my working hours were done.

For three months plus, my joy and excitement has been in high gear, knowing that another little Deinlein will be running around soon. 

At the same time, though, I've felt anxious, like riding with the fuel light on.

We're still not in the most ideal living situation, borrowing space generously provided by my in-laws.

We did just sell our old house in Clarks Summit, so that's a plus. But, because of the money we've had to spend, it will be a while before we will be able to move out and get a place of our own.

So, that has left me with questions: How are we going to arrange sleeping space, with a toddler who will be pushing 3 by the time the new baby arrives? How are we going to handle feeding and caring for the new little one with five adults and the aforementioned toddler in the house? How is Sophie going to react when she's no longer the single center of attention?

Those had been just a few things rattling in my brain.

But then entered my friend, Jonathan "Bear" Murren. 

I refer to him as a hairy buddha because his beard is a thing of beauty, and as Jen and I were announcing our impending progeny while moving the last items out of our old house, he provided wisdom:

Those of you that know me know that I'm not much of a motivational speaker. But I've noticed that some of you have been fighting some of life's gremlins lately, and it brought to mind something my instructor taught me in a motorcycle riding course a long time ago. When executing a curve, if you focus on where you're currently at, you'll find the ride through the curve to be a little wobbly and unsteady. However, if you put your focus ahead to the other end of the curve, you'll naturally glide smoothly through it.

Just something to think about as you navigate the twisted road of life.

Holy damn, it's been a twisted road. Just geographically for me: Baltimore to Dayton to Hanover to Port Huron to Hanover to Selinsgrove to Scranton to Harrisburg/York to Hagerstown (the last two were by way of Chambersburg).

I don't presume to speak for Jen, but her road has been rather windy, too.

Yet, if both of us focus on our Fiat 500 of a living situation, we're just going to grow more anxious. And that's not good for either of us, or Sophie, or Baby D.

No, Bear is right: We need to focus on the other end of the curve.

With both hands on the handlebars, we'll get there. 

Sold

Moving day on Woodcrest Drive.

We sold the house.

Finally.

Jen and I were ready to be done with the place, given the troubles we've had since moving away from South Abington Township about a year and a half ago.

Two floods. Ruined clothes. Ruined boxes. Ruined memories.

But also: A broken grinder pump. Dust. Dirt. Musty odors. Keeping the grass cut. Fixing the deck.

Yet there was a very real sense of sadness as we loaded up our oversized U-Haul truck.

It was the first house that I ever bought.

It was the house to which we brought our daughter from the hospital.

It was where we had dreams of creating a decorative stone wall behind the wood-burning stove.

It was where we were going to start a vegetable garden and grow tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers.

It was where Sophie was going to run around the yard and make friends with the neighbor kids and play games.

It's weird: A weight has been lifted off our chests, but the impression left by that weight isn't rebounding so quickly.

BabyholdHands!

Parents: A question.

Does, or did, your 2-year-old want to hold the hand of other small children? I mean, to the point of actually chasing the other child around the playground?

Sophie and St. Joey share a hug.

I mean to the point of saying "Baby hold hands!" at the mere mention of other children and/or a trip to a location known to be a regular hangout for the under-5 crowd?

Sophie is so cute when she says it. It's like one word to her. "BabyholdHands!" she says with a barely contained blurt of excitement.

Because we know how weird it is to have a random munchkin come up to your kid and try to hold his or her hand, Jen and I have been trying to make sure Soph at least asks the kid.

So, usually, "BabyholdHands!" is followed up by "Axs the baby," completed with a solemn head nod. A "pease" is usually thrown in there, too.

Jen and I are torn over Sophie's love of hand-holding.

Like I said, I know it's weird. And it could prove dangerous if such activities continue with bigger people. Right now, the victims have been those under three feet tall.

But it also shows a very tender side of our 2-year-old as she begins to develop a personality.

It all started when Jen took Sophie to an open gym at the local college a few months ago. A girl, probably about 4 or 5, came up to Sophie and took her hand, sort of like a protector in the sea of rug rats and gymnastics equipment.

Since, she walks right up to someone the same size as her, seeking to hold his or her hand. Sophie can be shy when talking to people she doesn't know or is not around frequently, but with this, she's fearless.

Jen and I appreciate this. It took me becoming a reporter — someone who has to approach people you don't know or you don't eat — before I could overcome the level of shyness Sophie seems to have overcome. At least with little people.

So, I ask you, fellow parents: What, if anything, should we do?

Her own language

"Hanny na na," says my daughter, who is just shy of 2 years old.

That means Halloween.

"Hama ni mani," she says.

That means Susquehanna.

"Howbop," she says.

That is short for "How 'bout them Cowboys?" It's also become the term for the Cowboys.

"Ra ra," she says

That means Ravens.

"Oh wals," she says.

That means Orioles, hon.

"Bigabba gabba goes," she says.

That means Peppermint Kandy Kids, what has become her favorite album.

"Mina mina," she says.

That means Grandma, my mother-in-law.

"Danny," she says.

That means Granny, my mother.

"Gockyew," she says.

That means glasses.

"Awk a gawk," she says.

That means Local on the 8s.

"Pee que," she says.

That means pictures, usually those on an iPhone.

"Tatee," she says.

That means Sophie, her name.

"I ee ee," she says.

That's the most important one. I means, "I love you."

I ee ee, Tatee.

Reason for living

My wife and I haven't gotten much sleep lately. Sophie, who is coming up on 6 weeks old, is sleeping only a few hours at a clip. And much of the time, when she does sleep, one of us is holding her. 

We sleep when we can, but for this nightshifter, I've seen more daylight hours than usual. I'd forgotten that many people start their day at 7 a.m.; I was reminded by the sound of the traffic while singing "This Old Man" to Sophie. 

But here's the thing: I don't mind the lack of sleep. Every parent goes through it. Sooner or later, Sophie will sleep more than two hours at a time. 

It occurred to me last night as I held her against me while we rocked in the rocking chair: I'm the happiest I've been in my life.

In my arms was my little girl. She is my reason for living. And, as she wiggled a bit and gurgled before snuggling in against my chest, I realized there's no better reason.