But make no mistake, his passion is as fiery as that of any Madrileño. Here he explains the process:

And here he demonstrates (albeit with a pretty lame (castrated?) bull, who just woke up):

And, okay, yeah, he’s got some World Cup fever as well…

So back to birthing. According to the hospital record, labor officially started around 6pm Thursday night, when Kirsten told me the contractions were taking over and it was time to head for the hospital. On arrival, the midwife tells us that Kirsten is close to 7cm dialated and we’re well on our way. “I expect we’ll see this baby after midnight,” she says. 12:30 is after midnight, I think.

For the next few hours Kirsten shouts. This would not make for an unusual Thursday night, what with the messes I leave in the kitchen, but this time she’s naked in a jacuzzi and trying to pull my arms off every few minutes. I haven’t really seen my wife scream in pain before. Much less repeatedly, for hours. This is going to be an unusual Thursday night.

12:15am, we’re back in the birthing room, pushing starts. Somehow it seems sensible that my wife is howling in agony for the 4th straight hour, yet I am cheerleading. Never one to gush in the affirmative, I now have to come up with some positive spin on how each push moved our 2nd born another millimeter.

Push #10: Kirsten is exhausted. This is hard work.

Push #27: Kirsten alternates between trying to push her insides out, and sleeping. Kind of like our cat in a sunbeam on our nice rug.

Push #77: I can see a little bit of a little head. My eyes are at least as dialated as Kirsten’s cervix. She swears she lacks the strength to push again, but we’re so close!

Push #94: Crowning begins! I think every next push will the be last. I’m keeping careful track of the song playing, calculating whether it is suitable as THE birth song. “Girl from Ipanema” comes on. I hit skip. It would have been weird. The nurses must have all looked at each other before resuming their tugging and prying and cajoling of Kirsten.

Push #146: Doctor says the tissue just isn’t going to stretch enough, she’s going to make a cut. Hoo boy. Is the epidural Kirsten hasn’t used still available? Or even just some spray paint and a paper bag?

Push #147: The head is actually out! Wow, I think when I see the size. We weren’t even close to getting that through.

Push #148: The rest is out! It’s 3:31am. And to think that midwife promised us 12:30.

Push #148+something: The placenta is out. Placentas are big! And look like insides.

After 3:16 of pushing and no drugs, Kirsten had done it. We had a new little boy, and he was beautiful. Of course I checked the song when he finally emerged, and I kid you not: “Superwoman” by Stevie Wonder. Apropos.

After a few days, we even named our little boy: Degan Thomas Strong. Thomas represents family on both sides, and Degan we just liked. Here are some pics from his first couple days, say hi!

Here’s a good one of me and the little fella, on the Shrollys’ deck.

By the way, protect my route and Save Helvetia!

With that in mind, I endeavored to determine, once and for all, who Driscoll’s parents really are. Scientifically. Let’s look at the evidence.

This is Kirsten and Driscoll. So far, it’s looking likely that Kirsten is, indeed, Driscoll’s mother.

Hmm. We both have pacifiers, though I don’t believe those are genetic. He does appear to have my hair.

Driscoll has much more avocado on his face than did Kirsten at a similar stage.

Ah, mouth breathers! These 2 (me and Driscoll) are clearly related.

Truth is, it’s a good thing Driscoll isn’t a dead ringer for either of his parents, because that might not have gone well…

With this in mind, we undertook “The Alamo”. We showed ourselves to be not only hilarious, but cultured, delicately juxtaposing Rocky III with Tears for Fears, the Terminator with Hunter. This was to be our Opus, the first step towards a lavish Hollywood lifestyle with the Alfords. Well, curiously, we got a B on the project, and never got a date with the twins (or much of anyone else). But at least we got this video out of the deal.

I should probably mention here that I don’t actually appear in the video. My voice does, and the camera work and editing were all yours truly, but John was our on-screen presence. So, for those of you with 10 minutes to throw away, enjoy…

The Strealey Dealie is the official blog of the Healey/Strong household. Strealey, as you can probably imagine, comes from a clever merging of our last names, beating out Hong as our made-up name of choice. And Dealie, well, that rhymes. This blog will likely focus on the little fella, pictures, videos, and stories of his first steps, his first words, his first kiss, the first time he gets to 2nd base, etc. But I suspect I’ll also pepper it with some of my own blather. Perhaps drivel as well, time permitting.

Anyway, let’s meet the players here at Strealey Dealie world headquarters (SDWHQ).

This is Driscoll, the little guy. In addition to Obama and windows, he likes blocks, milk, dangerous things left perilously above him, and girls. He does not like sleeping through the night, nor being ignored. He’s kind of a big deal around SDWHQ, and we talk about him quite a bit. Frequent this blog and you’re going to get to know him well!

This is Kirsten. We’re in love.

I caught her in a period of self-loathing and heavy drug use, and we got married. Now we have this little monkey, and her self-loathing has turned simply to husband-loathing. Which we’re cool with.

This is me. Thanks for visting, don’t be a stranger!