Zebula's nearing the six week mark of her remarkable and noteworthy life. She still walks funny and is hard to understand when she speaks, but apart from that she seems to be developing normally.

Zebula is most decidedly ahead of her time. She weighs more than she ought to for her age. She doesn't look overly plump, because she's about 24 inches long. Of course, we can't be sure about that -- it's very hard to measure the height of an infant -- but if it's true, then Zebula is in, like, the 125th percentile for height. I thought it was weird enough when the pediatrician's printout put her in the 100th percentile (a mathematical impossibility, implying that she's longer than every baby ever born in history). But an online percentile calculator reported back the she would be above the 100th percentile. Explain that to me.

Her ability to sleep is highly developed and seems to be improving all the time. Last night, she slept seven hours straight. That's a full night's sleep for mom and dad! Or it would have been, had dad not been hunched over the computer making a few cosmetic changes to his dissertation. And even then, dad supposes he would prefer ten hours a night, but he shan't begrudge his darling daughter. Besides -- who ever heard of a professor sleeping ten hours a night?

I'm not a doctor. Yet. I'm very nearly a doctor. I'm at that stage where the progress bar has made it all the way to the end and it says that it's at 100%, but the program is obviously doing just one or two small things before it actually finishes up. That's how little I have left to do. As Bush would say, I am fundamentally a doctor.

No, I'm not a doctor yet. But I'm pleased to announce that I have achieved an even more distinguished title. Here's what I am, as of this morning:

That's right, I am the Lord of the Lizards. I was already an Equivalent (that's another story). And now the Lord of the Lizards. Soon to be Doctor Lord of the Lizards. You can call me Doctor Lizard Lord for short. It's likely that the amount of Dynomite I had to play to get to this ranking is part of the reason I became Lord of the Lizards before I became a doctor.

I'm somewhat apprehensive, actually. I think that Godzilla considers himself the Lord of the Lizards. I hope he doesn't come after me.

Okay, that's enough randomness for today.

Okay, so I'm a dad already, just to quash any doubts you may have on the subject. Nath gave birth on the 19th of September, which makes this entry horribly, massively, unforgivably out of date. If you're one of the (probably few) people who read Thingo but haven't heard the news yet, then I do apologize. Obviously, in times where life gets interesting, Thingo must take a back seat. The past month has certainly been one of those times.

Zebula (Zoë, actually) was born on September 19th, 2002, at 0925h. Objectively speaking, it seems to me that her birth was relatively straightforward and free of complications. Easy for me to say, of course. Anyway, for interested parties, here's a brief summary of the process.

There were two main sources of consternation, though both eventually found resolution. The first was that Zebula was late, and Nath's labour had to be induced. We went into the hospital on the evening of Tuesday the 17th, the day that marked 42 full weeks of pregnancy for Nath. They tried a mild form of induction (Cervidil) over Tuesday night, and that didn't do very much. They switched to the more forceful method (Pitocin) over Wednesday, and serious labour finally began Wednesday night.

Once labour began, the second source of consternation revealed itself. Back labour. Back labour occurs when the baby's head is facing the mother's belly rather than her back. As a result, the hard back of the baby's skull presses into the base of the spine during contractions. Very, very painful. Nath wisely opted for an epidural at this point, and (after a surprisingly long delay) found what can only be described as surcease. The relief from pain allowed her to sleep for about two hours.

Remarkably, although the epidural was a light one (known as a "walking epidural"), when she woke after her nap she was nearly fully dilated and ready to have the baby. They didn't even bother with any additional anasthetic. The rest was "easy", or at least as easy as second stage labour gets.

And now, as I said, I'm a father. Nath's a mother. There has obviously been a terrible mistake, but we're dealing with it fairly well. It helps that Zebula is the sweetest, cutest, quietest, smartest, and most amazing baby ever born. Even the cats think so. I'm even getting (almost) enough sleep, if you can believe it.

I suppose some photos are warranted. I'll probably put together a photo album, but not right now. That's too much work in the short term, and I've got other things to think about, both Zebula- and not-Zebula-related.

I suppose also that I ought to start filling Thingo with humourous, sardonic stories about being a new parent. And you can bet I would, except someone has already done so, and done so better than I could even if I had the time. I encourage you to visit The Story About the Baby at Irony Central to read very funny tales about parenthood. Later, I'm sure I'll have some of my own stories.

Yippee! I'm a dad!

By now, Thingo has no doubt begun to take on the feel of a long forgotten, dried up frontier town. A hot, abrasive dust assaults your eyes and lungs with every shift in the wind. All is quiet save for the slow creaking of a saloon door, hanging unsteadily on one rusty hinge. A few restless tumbleweeds, the town's most active inhabitants, make their way anxiously down the street. In the distance, a coyote wails.

The truth is that Mister Thingo has been forced to work severely reduced hours as his alter ego Craig has taken on increased duties and responsibilities. So although there has been a great deal of news here at Thingo Central, we are operating with a skeleton crew and can barely afford the time to report on it.

Happily, things have calmed down here a bit as new patterns are established and new roles learned. Craig might finally be ready to hand some spare time over to Mister Thingo in order that he may be permitted to bring his loyal reader(s) up to date. So hang in there, reader(s), and I'll be bringing you the latest shortly.