It's Alive!| January 11th 2006

...........................THERE’S A NEW KID IN TOWN!
....................
........................ ..The birthing control Centre

The Jimi Page in association with Mrs K productions are proud to announce the arrival of our new child.

Mother and child: fit and well.
Father: well chuffed.
Weight: 7lb 14oz
Sex: I don’t think my wife will be keen, she’s just given birth to a baby boy.
Name: a work in progress. For the moment can be known as:- junior, the little fella..

The Gory Details

Men who are uncomfortable with ‘labour talk’ feel free to click this link which will provide a page of soothing sports gibberish, you can then join the page further down.
Women, Metrosexuals and existing fathers – read on. . .

The labour began at 5am on Sunday and finished at 5.45 pm Monday night, when the baby was born.
36 hours of pain, contractions, anxiety, pushing, walking, pacing, breathing and eventual release for Mrs K.
She was incredible and apart from a 'we are not amused' dalliance with laughing gas, she took no pain killers. She is, apparently, the talk of the hospital. At the end of the delivery the midwives paid her, what I would imagine, is their ultimate compliment;

“She’s homebirth material..”

I don’t know how women do it, it looks sooo painful. Rest assured if men had to do it, they wouldn’t. It would be an order of ‘elective caesarians all round please gov’nor’.
In the midst of the most intense part of the labour Mrs K, who had asserted that she would not scream like they do in movies, did issue a cry of pain. But, being the class act that she is, she choose an utterance, that is a timeless classic, long forgotten in the modern world.
Not for her the garish primal screams, the phrases borrowed from Tarantino movies; your ‘m@#@#$r f$%$*&rs’
No, simple, direct, effective;
“Ow” she said “Ow”.
This was no ordinary “Ow” though.
It was an ‘ow’ hissed through clenched teeth, an “OW” that raised to a cresendo, it was an “ow” that said ‘get this bloody thing out of me before I die’.
But it was an “Ow” nonetheless. What a dame! She’s all class my wife.


The actual moment of birth is indescribable. But, of course, I’ll try to describe it anyway.
“It was. . ah .. like a … umm ..I felt like err.. We ..”
No I can’t. It won’t do it justice.
Words aren’t adequate.
Maybe I can use book titles instead;

“The Agony And The Ecstasy”
“The Way Of All Flesh”
“The Son Also Rises’

OR regarding the wife;
“How To Win Friends And Influence People”

No, sorry they won’t do either.

Maybe a song title then ;
“Unforgettable.”
Yes.

The Baby - 'The Nice Man Cometh’

At a city courtroom...

Bailiff: You JAMES no-middle-name-to-mention KUMARA stand accused of being complicit in the wanton over-rating of your babies cuteness. How do you plea?
JK: Guilty of all charges your honor.
JUDGE: It a serious charge. Do you have anything to say for your self?
JK: Your honor, I plead insanity.
JUDGE: Insanity?
JK: Yes Sir. I’m just crazy about that kid.
And. . .your honor, there are attenuating circumstances.
JUDGE: Such as?
JK: Exhibit A your honor.
(produces photo and hands it to the judge)

EXHIBIT A

JUDGE: My, he is a handsome devil isn’t he?
(hands photo around court, there is much cooing and froing)
JK: exhibit B your honor

EXHIBIT B
JK: Your honor ( begins pacing around courtroom. clasps hands behind back) Did you see the paper this morning?
JUDGE: yes I did.
JK: Did you notice that the All Black captain Tana Umaga is giving up Rugby because of his family?
JUDGE: yes. Where is this leading?
JK: Well sir. If Tana Umaga can raise his family up higher than the job of All Black captain, Surely I can overate my son a bit.
With respect, your honor.
JUDGE: Of course! Yes. This case is dismissed! I sentence whoever brought this charge before the courts to two weeks hard labour or one day at an ACT conference.
BANG!
JUDGE: Bailiff slap a crap song on this story and send it to Allie Mc Beal.


It’s hard, you see, to be impartial. No parent can be with their own kid. I’m sure even the elephant mans’ parents found something to admire (‘What an adorable wee trunk!’).

While Mrs Kumara was superb, we were not without help. Our midwife, a very old friend Cheryl was amazing (she still is!) Tina, who was her second was brilliant too. We trusted them absolutely.
Our friend Nicola, who we selected to be a support person, was great too. In the end, because of the way things went we didn’t call her, but we knew she was there and she would have done anything. Which was enough.

At the moment, juniors all I can think about. Our bands playing at the Big Day Out and usually I would be excited. As it is, I have to remind myself it's on.
I will be on stage, we will go into the chorus of a song and I will play all the wrong chords. After it's finished a band member will say;
"what are you doing?!! the chords! all wrong!"
and I'll say, blank faced.
"They're only chords man, I've got a baby"
(sorry band members, just kidding. I'll play a blinder, for the boy)

So for a while the Jimi page may be emmersed in and intoxicated by baby love.
I make no apologies.
My new best friend arrived on Monday, courtesy of the miracle of childbirth, and we have some catching up to do.
There’s a lot I need to share with the little fella;
I need to tell him about - The All Blacks (‘the 1996-7 team was the best team ever, junior and I’ll tell you why…’), Captain Beefheart, My dad.
I need to introduce him to his crazy uncles from the bands I’ve been in. We have to go to yum char together. I have to show him how to launch the Kon Tiki. I have to explain why Harpo was always the funniest one in the Marx Brothers. We have to go out in his uncle, CAP’n Pete’s boat the HMS Lucinda on the Hauraki Gulf and he will realize then, why Auckland’s a great city.
But all that is a way away, for the moment we just need to get acquainted. Step by step.
We got plenty of time.

My work has already begun. I have been changing his nappies.
Last night one change took;
A whole roll of toilet paper, 3 wipe flannels (I used a new one each wipe) and two nappies before he was sorted. Today when super Cheryl arrived and changed him all she needed was one flannel.
So I have a lot to learn, and I better do it quick before I wear out the washing machine and decimate the forests of the world.

Hang on, I have to go now – cos someone requires me to stare at them for hours on end . .
And. . .
I think it’s my son!

The Author and the Angelic Upstart
"We meet at last!"

imminent|7th January| 2006

............................2006 A name Odyssey
.............................
...........................0 0. Lurking about ....

Ok. So the Mrs K is now two weeks overdue and the baby is still not here.
So we can assume a certain tardiness or an ‘I’ll wait till I’m good and ready’ independence.
We, the parents, are over-ready.
We have performed all known rituals and to no avail. All that is left is castor oil. Maybe the oldest birth inducing tonic of all.
We’ll see.

Maybe the baby wont come until we have a name for it. We have plenty of girls names but it’s the boys who are causing the problems.
We’ve tossed a few ones around but mostly they kept spinning around and around, they were rejected, we let go of them and they flew out of orbit, into space.
Pinnochio, for instance, is headed for deep space.
It gave me great joy while it was here though. The absurdity of it.
Pinnochio.
The period of confusion followed by horror when I related it to the mother in law. Precious moments.
Thank you Pinnochio.

The other day I had a boys name revelation while listening to the ghastly ‘matinee idle’ show on the radio.
“What about ELVIS?”
“No one is called Elvis” I said eyes wide with anticipation.
But, sadly Mrs K’s withering stare spoke volumes about the way she felt about ‘Elvis’.
“No-one is called Elvis for a reason’ She said.
and the no-one that was never going to be called Elvis was jettisoned to the stars also.

ELVIS IN SPACE! SHOCK!!

Recently I intoned;
‘What about Jimi?”
“Jimi Jnr”
“jimi J”
I realised quickly that Jimi J would be destined to become a DJ.
(“DJ JIMI J - at the khuja Lounge tonight!).
It’s not that I dislike the idea of being a DJ it’s just that everyone seems to be one.
I was at a café the other day and the young guy (actually he was more of a haircut than a guy) basking in the glow of own his nascissism took a break from ignoring his customers to tell the pretty waitress the following;
“There’s record swap at real groovy I might check out”
Bored indifference from girl.
“yeah. I guess I didn’t tell you but, I’m a DJ. . .”
I laughed aloud.
They gave me a combined ‘whatever’ but, really as a chat up line it has to be one of the most clichéd, circa – 2006.

So if the baby is born a boy then it will have no name at the moment.
It will just be known most excellently as ‘the boy with no name’.
Which is kinda cool, like ‘the man in black’.

Interior of Film Noir Office – It
is poorly lit, has venetian blinds, a fan rotates slowly.
A man is hunched over a pile on the floor.
Humphrey Bogart walks in.
“What happened? Whats that smell?”
“The boy with no name was just here…
He left this . . .”

Close up of a pooie nappie.
Dramatic music.

Extreme close up of pooie nappie. .
very dramatic music.

“ARE MY EYES DECIEVING ME! or does that thing smell disgusting!”
In the name of god lets get out of here. .”
Exeunt Door
Bogie: “of all the smells, in all the office’s, in all the world. I have to walk into this one..”

Topically, the herald had a list of the most popular names in New Zealand in it today. On the list a few of our ones.
The name MAX was there, in the top ten. Which is bloody annoying because I thought it was an unusual name, but it seems to be unusually usual instead.

At the moment I don’t care what it called I just want it here. Out.
Reducing my sleep. Making me busy. Confounding expectations. And creating the smell that would make Bogart Exeunt (whoever made that word up anyway?)

IF nothing happens before then, Mrs K will be induced tomorrow night, so this will be my last blog as barren J Kumara.