My last post of the year will be a video of my son Nyles taking in some Coltrane:

So yesterday after work, the wife sent me on a mission to buy nipples and formula for young Nyles. Nyles is on a mission to get his weight up (he went up 4 ounces between Wednesday and today), and to achieve this goal, he's drinking that winning combination of breast milk and formula. As a result, I was sent to the store to replenish the supply.

Luckily for me, the wife called our local Target ahead of time to see if they carried the type of formula, and they confirmed that they did. I made a beeline to the baby section of Target, looked up and down the aisle, and of course the formula was nowhere to be found. Since my wife accuses me of having a problem with looking for things, I walked up and down that damn aisle at least five times, and then I walked up and down every baby-related aisle just to be sure I wasn't negligent--and still nothing.

So the next logical step was for me to ask "the help" at Target if they could guide me in the right direction. The only problem was none of them spoke good English, just fantastic Spanish. I even held up an empty jar of the type of formula, hoping that would jar (see what I did there?) their thought process a bit, but all I got was incoherent sentences--I felt like I was calling T-Mobile for questions on my cell bill. Finally I waved the proverbial white flag, called the wife and explained to her that there was no formula to be found. She sympathized with my plight and told me that our local Rite-Aid had the powder form of the formula we needed (which is a pain to make). I said ok, and then I mentioned to her that I would ask one of the non-Target employees if they could possibly guide.

Well thank God I did that, because this young black woman with a youngster in her stroller, was a HUGE help. I showed her my empty jar, and she told me that she had seen that formula stashed in the corner somewhere, as if someone was trying to hide it for later. She walked me to that area, I grabbed the formula (and the nipples) and I was on my merry way. Of course I could not get away without having a bit of small talk about Nyles, my wife, etc..but I was more than happy to do step out of my comfort zone to talk with her, since she had been so helpful.

I'm going to do my best not to sound like Lou Dobbs here..but I don't mind bi-lingual "help" at any of the stores I frequent..but if I have a f**king question, you need to have the necessary words in your arsenal to help me out, otherwise, what good are you? I understand there are lots of Hispanic brothers and sisters in that particular area where I was, but still I needed help. This is why Nyles will be bi-lingual. End of rant.

Young Nyles had his first doctor's appointment today, and things are looking good. He needs to eat more and gain more weight, but his mother and father will makes sure that happens. He also got his Hepatitis B shot, which judging by the look on his face, hurt like a mother.. But today his grandmother (my mom) will be in town to spoil him with kisses, love and who knows what else..

One day when Nyles gets older I will tell him marvelous stories about his presence cause me to miss covering the Celtics/Wizards game on New Year's Day. I LOVE covering the Celtics locker room because Doc Rivers is a great talker, and that locker room is full of personalities. But it just so happens that I love my wife and son more..this will be a delicate balance to strike all year.

One more thing..last Thursday night, as I drove from the hospital back to my apartment, I was playing the new Common cd, and the first song was the one I've postsed below. It is a great song, and all was well until the 4:42 mark when the deep, non-sexy baritone voice of Maya Angelou came in...I almost drove off the road laughing. I like Maya's words, but her voice still makes me think of David Alan Grier's impression of her. Sorry Maya.

The wife and young Nyles are finally sleeping, so I can take some time to write a bit of an update. After two nights in the nursery, Nyles was able to spend the night in the hospital room with his mother (I was once again asked to go home). He is now big enough to maintain a normal body temperature, and he can eat without spitting up everything. Tonight, if the nurse is nice, all three of us will be able to spend the night in the hotel room and tomorrow morning we finally get to home.

My main man jazzbrew told me that in the beginning, the mom is clearly the center of attention, and the dad just has to get in where he fits in, and that's exactly what I've been doing. You just can't help to have more respect for women after this process and I do. You also have to learn how to operate on minimum hours of sleep for maximum periods of time--I'm still figuring that part out.

When my main main Brian had his baby, he transformed his blog from a blog about his health to a blog about his son. I don't know if I'll do the same thing in the long run, but for right how, its all Nyles all the time. Even my older son Carlton wants to get in on the action next week when he comes to visit..

Mr Nyles Roman Mobley was born into the world on 12/22/11 at 5:25 pm. He was a bit small at 5 lbs and 12 ounces, but with the healthy combination of breast milk and formula, his blood sugar was stabilized, and he's doing well. The bastard at the hospital wouldn't let me stay the night, so I'm back home and exhausted. I just wanted to share.

I didn't cry when he was born, I didn't cry when I held him, and I didn't cry when I watched Nyles in his mother's arms. But when I tried to write his name on my copy of the birth certificate, I broke down big time.

I love Nyles, I love his mother, and I love just about anything right now..thank you for humoring me..

Until yesterday, I had never heard this Marvin Gaye song in my life. Now that I have, I thought I'd share (sorry if you people have heard it already):

It hit me this morning that I am going to have two kids 14 years apart...that is just wild. Anyway, Thursday afternoon is when Melvin will be here..God willing. Then I can start calling him his real name...

So in yesterday's entry I got on here and raved about how I was in the midst of growing a Richard Kimble-like beard in preparation for the birth of my son. This morning I went to the barbershop to get it all trimmed up, and that's when things went awry. He was so busy talking about how well his beloved Dallas Cowboys played on Saturday night, that he cut one side of my beard. He stopped and apologized, but at that point the damage was done, my hard work was ruined, and the entire beard had to come off. But that is not why I'm blogging about him my friends.

Later on in the conversation, he asked me how my wife and the baby were, and I explained that she was scheduled to give birth this Thursday. The following conversation went down:

Him: So are they going to seduce her so she can give birth?
Me (trying not to laugh): I didn't hear you
Him: You know how they seduce women to get the baby out faster?
Me: Oh no, she's having a C-section, so none of that will be necessary

Now, I wanted to tell him that the correct term was "induce" and not "seduce", but the man was cutting my hair, and he had already jacked up my beard. I didn't want to agitate the man any further. Plus there is kind of an unwritten rule in the barbershop that doesn't allow the customers to upstage or correct the barbers. Outside the shop, they are fair game to be usurped, but in the shop, they are the rules. It is still pretty funny though....at least to me it was.

The Washington Wizards opened up their preseason yesterday, and I attended the game. Why is this worth mentioning? Because the arrival of young Melvin will severely limit the number of games I will be able to attend this year. But me and the good folks over at TruthAboutIt.net, did a good writeup, and you should read it..there are cool videos in there too.

Here it is

Oh and Thursday is THE day..i'm growing a Richard Kimble-like beard until he's born--maybe longer than that.

Baby update part deux:

The wife had an exemplary visit to the doctor, and her amniotic fluid level was even higher due to her water intake and bed rest (no more working for her). The doctor was impressed and said that assuming the appointments on Friday and next Tuesday go well, the wife will give birth on the 22nd or the 23rd (or the 38 week mark). So this is good news.

The "bad" news? All kinds of shit is going on in the NBA right now, and I cannot keep up at all. My son will hear about this when he's born..he's causing me miss Wizards training camp, media day, etc...But it is definitely worth it, and I am definitely on Cloud 9. Excitement doesn't even seem like an accurate word to describe how I'm feeling these days you know? Yes I'm a father of a 14 year old, but he's lived with this mother all this time, and I get weekends, holidays, summers, and anything in between. This time around it is full time, and I am ready...I think

I know I was supposed to write a dazzling blog entry about the baby shower, but the events that took place before the shower had me in a different state of mind completely. I was going on less than 2 hours sleep, my mother was staying with me, and there were seemingly 70 women there hugging me, telling me how nice it was to meet me, and showering (no pun intended) my wife and I with gifts, gifts and more gifts. My head was spinning, and the only other men there were my father-in-law (who had to sit by his wife the whole time), my wife's drunk uncle (who smelled like that winning combination of mints and strong alcohol) and my five year old nephew who acted like he didn't know me until there were 10 minutes left. My brother-in-law showed up with 10 minutes left too, but all he did was laugh at me.

So overall it was a good experience. We got more towels, wipes, clothes, breast pumps, etc than we know what to do with right now, but I'm quite sure we will need all of that stuff and more. Also, even though my wife thinks this is tacky, if you want to give or send gifts, just email me (rashad20@gmail.com), and I'll let you know how you can help.

And yes I'm still nervous and excited all at the same time..I can't remember being so damn unproductive at work before..This will be the first song I play for young Melvin:

My latest article

Ok so here is the update. The wife's amniotic fluid was low after Friday's doctor's appointment, so we immediately went to the hospital's labor and delivery unit, so they could monitor that more closely. We were told that if the fluid level did not get higher by Saturday morning, the baby would be coming out. So we spent all damn night in the hospital--me on an uncomfortable couch and her on a bed with an IV in her arm--and the next morning, we were told the levels were more acceptable.

So now she is on bed rest, she has to drink water like crazy, and we know for sure that the baby will be delivered some time this week. So now I have to rush and put together the stroller/car seat, we have to pack a hospital bag, and all that good stuff. We thought we had a few more weeks, but we now we are down to a few days..

And lost in all this madness is the fact that today (Sunday) is our first anniversary...good times.

I've been writing in this damn blog all summer and all fall, and I've been enjoying the fact that I could use the NBA lockout as an excuse to not write for Truth About It. Then a couple of days I go, I stupidly volunteered myself to write a full-fledged article on release of the Washington Wizards schedule. I wanted to get back on the wagon, and I thought by committing myself to writing, I would get that old magic back.

That old magic did NOT come back, and I spent 4 damn hours writing an article that was a pile of stinking garbage. Then my main man (and editor) Kyle came through with some kind words, some well-placed pictures, he suggested some words and sentences here and BAM..a final product emerged that was halfway decent. Still, I need to write more..especially before young Melvin comes this month..

Anyway, here is the article called, "Guess Who's Not Coming To Dinner?"

Oh and by the way, my wife's baby shower is this Saturday, and I've been asked to attend..the whole time. I predict the mother of all blogs after that shit..

First off, if you haven't already, go check out the new Roots CD, "Undun".

Secondly, here is an article I contributed to earlier.

As you've probably heard, the NBA lockout is over, which means I can once again flood this here space with articles I have written and co-written. Here is yet another one on the Washington Wizards. If you don't give a rat's ass about basketball, then pass it on to someone who does--it would be greatly appreciated my friends.

I'm not sure what happened to this woman, but she can do nothing else in her beautiful life, and I'll still love her for this song alone:

I would like to publicly apologize to my beloved mother-in-law for the comments I made about her husband yesterday. She mentioned to me that her husband was a great and prolific poet, and in response I told her that I respected poetry, but they frustrated me as well, because I never know what's going on, and they always seem to have an infinite number of interpretations. I also added the I consider poems to be the handjobs of writing--meaning they leave you feeling slighted and wanting more (and yes I can talk to my mother-in-law like that, because she's cool and we have an understanding).

Still, I owe her an apology, because the previous reasons don't truly represent why I poems bother me so much. The TRUE reason I can't stand poems is that every time I read one, I hear it like its being read in Maya Angelou's sweet baritone, and that throws everything off, and I can't take it seriously...

Am I jealous of people who can write beautiful poems? Perhaps. Do I read poems and then feel like I need cliff notes? Hell yes. Do my mother and some good friends of mine, get sick of me slamming poems? You bet your sweet ass they do. But back to my original point..if you're reading mother-in-law, please accept my apology, and forgive my fleeting ignorance--along with my annoying rhetorical questions.

I remember coming home in the summer of 1996, and hearing my mother give me the great news that she had a new boyfriend. She arranged an elaborate meeting among the three of us, and she gave me a speech about being nice, respectful and fair--all traits that I possessed back then. You see a year earlier, I met my mother's previous boyfriend, and I immediately thought that he was gay--not that anything is wrong with that. My mother denied it and got upset with me for not being over the split of her and my father. I told I was over it but her man definitely had the gay, and she was upset. A year later, my mother called me when I went back to college, and told me that this guy was indeed gay. I took no pleasure in saying I told you so.

Anyway, on this particular occasion, I ended up going to lunch with my mom and her new boyfriend, and this guy was definitely not gay. He was a Vietnam vet, he was Mr. Testosterone, and worst of all for me, he cursed all the time. Mind you, back then (and now) my mother was an extremely religious woman woman who never cursed, so to hear this guy doing his best sailor impression in front of her, was a shock to the system. Not to mention, I have this delusional notion that older men--especially one who wants to be involved with my mother--should carry themselves in a classy, regal manner. What you do behind closed doors or when younger folks are not around is certainly not my business, but if I'm in your presence, pull yourself together and be classy or fake like you are. My father carries himself like that, and right or wrong, that's the standard I hold older men to. There are plenty of men in my life who have no problem upholding that standard, and this guy my mother was courting clearly was not one of them.

Six months later my mother married this guy...seven years later they were divorced. His drinking habits, his inability to deal with my mother making way more money, and other things I won't mention, eventually caused the split. My mother told me she ignored the signs because she thought she was in love. Again, I did not say I told you so, because I knew she was hurt, and Lord knows I wasn't even close to perfect i the relationship department. But I was glad that guy was out of the picture, because he rubbed me the wrong way, and I lost respect for him after that initial, expletive-filled meeting. That was awfully judgemental of me I know, but come on, I'm biased when it comes to a man dating my mother...my father too for that matter.

Why am I mentioning this? Someone I recently met, who is a pastor and has told me how deeply religious he is, was cursing up a storm yesterday. I'm not sure how I feel about it and I don't know he stands with me in the respect department. I know he's a man, and he's human and all the rest of those b.s. cliches we sometimes throw out to do what we want sans accountability, but he's also a man of the cloth. And if you come to me and say you're a pastor, and if you tell me you'll pray for me, and you give me unsolicited advice on how I should live my life in His name, then goddammit, you shouldn't be cursing like Kool G Rap in his prime. Maybe I'm wrong here, and if I am it wouldn't be the first, second or third time..but it was on my mind...