OK, so it's been a minute — or 28,800 — since my last post. But I have a good excuse.
On the two-year anniversary of our nuptials, Mrs. Viper and I learned we'd enter parenthood sooner than expected. After an ultrasound that morning, our celebratory plans were replaced with a scheduled inducement that night. At 4:29 p.m., on Wednesday, Sept. 11, our son was born.
As the Bard says, "Shit just got real."
The Little Man is a featherweight, but he's eating like a champ to level up. Everyone is home and healthy, albeit in a constant state of tired.
I haven't run since the Monday before he was born, a run where a GPS faux pas resulted in a tabulation of some eight miles, which sure, why not? My legs felt sore enough, having emphasized exploding up the hills while trying to avoid blowing up my run in the process. I've had plenty of time to recuperate, but who knows when my next run may come?
On a side note, the wife has been requesting Guinness, with brewer's yeast a supposed aid for producing breast milk, so that's a bonus.
All in all, life is good.
Photos, you ask? Well, I'm dubious about posting those. I'll think about whether my son is ready for this particular limelight.