Just over 14 years ago our oldest arrived and, like all things involving me, there were a few complications.

(Note: Officially our oldest has been told we found her on her grandmother’s doorstep in Nou-Machi. Our youngest has been told she was found under a bridge. Please maintain this official story despite any contradictory information provided in this post.)

The first complication involved She Who Must Be Obeyed moving back to her parent’s house until the delivery. This gave her experienced and competent people nearby but put me on the other side of Japan. My job was basically to keep doing my job and be ready to travel at a moment’s notice. Sort of.

The second complication involved language. When I finally got the call that things were happening, the call was kind of vague. I was told, by She Who Must Be Obeyed, that she  was going to the hospital but that there was no hurry because the contractions were several days apart (or something like that) and I should just wait. Unfortunately, I’d been in Japan long enough to question what I was being told and spent a good part of the next couple hours checking various Japanese/English dictionaries and an NSA code book to see if I’d missed something in the message.

When I finally got the call to move, I encountered the third complication: a crap load of snow (that’s a technical term) that slowed down the train. Somehow I finally arrived at the hospital, although it involved moving through a maze of snow piles.

Once in the hospital, I got to see She Who Must Be Obeyed a few moments and enjoy her loving “damn you for doing this to me” looks and then took up my position in the waiting room outside to get properly nervous. (Long story about why I wasn’t in the delivery room.) Less than an hour later, as I was selecting a proper location to begin pacing, I was informed our oldest had arrived.

I rushed in for the first pictures and was shocked to see that, at her most slimy, deformed and “uncooked”, she actually looked like me. (Fortunately she ended up looking more like She Who Must Be Obeyed.)

Now not only do I have a teenaged daughter, but at age 14, she’s already had a year of practice. She’s taller than She Who Must Be Obeyed and better at math than I was. (I’m better at taking stuff and hiding than she is, though, especially when it’s her stuff and I’ve told her to turn it off and study.)

She’s perfected the eye roll and I challenge anyone with a teenage daughter to an eye-roll contest. (Email pictures of your teen daughter giving her best eye-roll and we’ll see who’s best.)

Despite this we decided to have another one; but that’s another story.

Only 20 minutes old and already practicing her skeptical look.