Tag: ignorance

Local Man Goes “Full Method” to Prepare for New Baby

On By TommyIn Current Articles, The Lindeman DailyLeave a comment

With the imminent arrival of his first baby, T. Lindeman of Philadelphia prepared the way any new parent would: reading every baby book ever written.

But for Lindeman, it wasn’t What to Expect When You’re Expecting or Expecting Better gracing his bedside table.

“Oh, this one is great!” exclaimed Lindeman, holding up a tactile copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “Feel that weird crunchy stuff under the pages? What is that stuff? It’s amazing, I can’t stop touching it!” Lindeman also perused Moo, Baa, La La La!, Goodnight Moon, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear in his spare waking moments.

“But I don’t have a ton of time to read anymore, what with all the naps!”

Lindeman has been approaching this upcoming life-changing moment in a way doctors are calling “troubling” and his wife describes as “really pretty annoying.”

“I guess the biggest thing to talk about is the diapers,” said Lindeman’s wife, L. Burton. “He’s not just stocking up. He’s wearing them. Constantly.”

Not only that, but he also insists on cleaning and changing himself. “Which actually sounds helpful,” Burton added, “until you see the mess. It wouldn’t be so bad if the infant diapers actually fit him. And the diet certainly doesn’t help!”

Lindeman’s cabinets are lined with jars of mushy bananas and mushy peas. The fridge? Just milk. So much milk.

“If I don’t have my bottle every two hours,” said Lindeman, “I’m going to get fussy.”

“Usually he can burp himself, but sometimes he asks me,” Burton said. “I don’t mind getting to smack him on the back a few times, except when he spits up and says ‘That’s the wet burp we are looking for. Just like Uncle Stephen [Lindeman, Lindeman’s brother]!’”

Despite working her own job up to the point of delivery, Burton found herself taking on another full-time role: caring for the adult-sized infant living in her home.

“Bath time is tough,” she said. “He just gets so splashy. And if the soap gets in his eyes he won’t stop crying for hours.”

We caught up with Lindeman during tummy time, moments after he had finished a new bout of crying.

“Everything is getting so hard! There are these new gates at the top of the stairs, so I can’t throw myself down them. And the cabinets all have these locks on them so I can’t get to the knives. I can’t even open a jar of aspirin!”

Rolling over and over on the small mat before crawling over to his impending child’s toy chest, Lindeman’s behavior did little to dispel rumors that he had forgotten how to walk. Crawling from room to room, he let out occasional groans and grunts when he wanted something, a wordless language that Burton “unfortunately” picked up quite quickly. Even over the course of this interview, it seemed to be replacing his capacity for speech entirely.

As the day wore on, at one point Lindeman caught sight of his wife and immediately cued up his tears again until she put him to bed and sang him a few lullabies.

“It’s the same every time,” Burton clarified. “If he sees me, even if he’s fine, he’ll cry until I pick him up. It’s terrible for my back, and probably bad for the baby too, but it’s the only way to get him to settle down.”

Beneath his mobile of spinning animals, scratch-offs, and beers, Lindeman finally drifted off to sleep. But it was a peace short-lived. Moments later his cries rang out again—accompanied by the telltale smell of a freshly soiled diaper.

Husband Experiences Woes of a Sympathetic Pregnancy

On By TommyIn Current Articles, The Lindeman Daily1 Comment

“Tired a lot, nauseous, a ton of weird cravings….” listed off Philadelphia resident T. Lindeman. “Occasional mood swings and weird cramps.

“And that’s not even getting into what my wife is dealing with.”

When L. Burton announced to her husband that she was pregnant, Lindeman took it with all the enthusiasm and excitement in the world. Little did she know the immense impact it would have on his body and lifestyle.

“I can’t let him shop by himself,” explained Burton. “He’ll beeline to the ice cream aisle and start loading up the cart.” For any other man, this wouldn’t be an issue. However, Lindeman has what doctors are calling “a disgusting degree of lactose intolerance.”

“I normally don’t even like ice cream,” whined Lindeman. “It’s these damn pregnancy cravings!”

Lindeman is adamant that his body is experiencing a “sympathetic pregnancy,” which can be found in many tomes of medical literature next to the chapter on snake oil.

“It’s absolutely wild the effect this has on the human body,” said Lindeman. “I’ve definitely been feeling the mood swings, especially when driving. I’ve never experienced road rage before!”

Burton confirmed this behavior, but said it was nothing new. “[Lindeman] has always been the type to get emotional. He weeps during episodes of Love is Blind and Severance!” Lindeman chose not to respond to these allegations, except to say he was a “sucker for good television.”

But pregnancy isn’t all sappy TV, aggressive driving, and constant snacking. There are also downsides that Lindeman is acutely aware of.

“I don’t mind the sympathy cravings,” said Lindeman. “But it’s the physical toll—the sympathy morning sickness—that gets to me!”

Every morning like clockwork, sometime between 5AM and 10AM, Lindeman finds himself face-first in the toilet bowl. And no, he’s not having a morning slurp like a dog.

“Sick as a dog, more like!” Lindeman exclaimed. “All these new hormones rushing through my bod, there’s no wonder I keep vomming. But everyone says that’s just how it goes in the first trimester.” Unfortunately for Lindeman, he is already well into the second trimester.

“It’s not morning sickness,” said Burton, who by coincidence often joined Lindeman on the floor next to the toilet. “He’s just sick from drinking or eating too much the night before.”

When Lindeman heard this, he remarked “That’s her opinion. But doesn’t she feel better knowing that I’m going through all of this with her?”

“It doesn’t stop with the morning sickness,” furthered Burton. “He’s also producing what he calls ‘sympathy burps,’ and claiming the baby is giving him gastroparesis.

“I think he’s having too much seltzer water and ginger ale to, as he says, ‘settle his stomach from the pregnancy.’”

Without a doctor’s diagnosis, there’s no way to know for sure what’s causing it, claimed Lindeman. But Burton is a doctor, and she said it’s definitely the seltzer.

“Who knows?” shrugged Lindeman.

As the pregnancy stretches on, Lindeman has taken to having a “bit of a siesta” every day. From approximately 11AM to 6PM, Lindeman can be found curled up in bed, “catching flies with my honk shoes on, and maybe a couple of cartoon Zs coming out of my head.”

Is this affecting his job? Or his helping around the house? “Yes,” said both his bosses and his wife.

“The doctor said naps are vital to the growth of the baby!” Lindeman is heard to say as he curls up with a big fuzzy blanket.

In his endless pursuit to ensure the baby has the best possible future, Lindeman has also started sympathy nesting.

“Lauren [Burton] is getting a BBL,” said Lindeman, referencing what he calls the forthcoming Baby Boy Lindeman. “So we need to make sure there’s lots of cozy places for that thing to rest and be happy.”

Lindeman has helped paint furniture, given up his office for the nursery, and even brought in twigs, yarn, and shiny things before being told that’s not what “nesting” means.

Unfortunately for this publication, our interview with Lindeman led to a monologue.

“I don’t mean to make light of women’s experience with pregnancy,” said Lindeman as he made light of women’s experience, “but it is just as hard, if not harder, for men.

“Between the sickness, the crampings, the hormones, not to mention the sympathy incontinence we get after the birth, our bodies will never be the same. We are forced to give up our own bodily autonomy for the sake of our families—without any say in the matter! It’s my body, it should be my choice!”

“Who knew 40 seconds of passion would lead to nine months of discomfort?” responded Burton, referring to how uncomfortable Lindeman makes her with his new complaints and irritating behavior.

She isn’t the only one made uncomfortable by Lindeman, who left us with these final words:

“Ugh, I need to go. I think my milk is coming in.”

Self-Proclaimed “Funcle” Revels in Love of Five Nieces

On By TommyIn Current Articles, The Lindeman DailyLeave a comment

Hours after the girls wake up, Lindeman descends the stairs to bask in the glow of his nieces’ affections. Calling himself the “funcle” (a portmanteau of “fun” and “uncle”), Lindeman is ready for the nonstop positivity that only an uncle can receive.

So it came as a shock when each of them independently greeted him with a “Where’s Lauren [Burton, Lindeman’s wife]?”

“Obviously it isn’t what I expected,” says Lindeman. Undeterred, he prepares to win them over and experience all the best parts of hanging with kids under 4, without any of the diaper changes.

And what better opportunity to win them over than the Christmas season, when Lindeman could give them presents and catch them at their most holiday cheerful?

As a LEGO aficionado, Lindeman planned for ages to get Poppy her first LEGO set, and he spent hours picking out just the right one. On Christmas morning when she opened it up, she got right to work building and playing, before remembering that her new-found fun was a gift she had to thank someone for. With a big smile, she ran up to Lindeman and said the words he longed to hear:

“Where’s Lauren?”

This is not unusual. In fact, most of their conversations start and end with the same two words. When Lauren is in the room, Poppy sticks to her like glue. When she’s not in the room, Poppy is asking Lindeman where his wife is.

“Any interaction is a good interaction,” said Lindeman, clearly attempting to hide his tears. “Really! It’s the best!”

A few days later, Lindeman traveled up to Cape Cod to win over his other four nieces.

“It’s a numbers game,” explained Lindeman. “With four of them in the same house, one is bound to love me as their funcle.”

From the start, however, Lindeman’s optimism was unfounded. Seeing a large bag of Play-Doh ready for the molding, he asked the two older girls, Olivia and Charlotte, if they wanted to play Play-Doh. He received resounding no’s. A few moments later, Lindeman saw his wife playing Play-Doh with them.

Undeterred, Lindeman caught Olivia building a pillow fort on the couch. A master builder with years of experience (see: aforementioned love of LEGO), he knew he could help build something stable and stylish, fashionable and functional. When he offered to help, or even to just sit quietly next to her fort, she responded negatively.

“It was her own fort,” sniffled Lindeman. “I can understand wanting to accomplish a task all on your own.” Lauren was later invited to help build, and even enter, the fort.

Another niece, Zoe, was recovering from a bout of RSV. A little sluggish from the medicine, Zoe wasn’t too anti-Lindeman when he approached her, but she certainly didn’t go out of her way to be pro-Lindeman.

“AaaaaaAAAAAAaaahh!” said Zoe, when asked for comment.

The youngest niece, Avery, was at first an easy target for hanging out. At meal times, she would be locked in her height chair, unable to leave when Lindeman would sit next to her.

“It was great!” smiled Lindeman. “A highlight of my time for sure–aside from one small blemish.

The “small blemish” Lindeman was referencing was a moment when he was asked to watch the teetering toddler as she stumbled around the living room. At one point when Avery reached for his hand, she dropped before he could reach her — right onto her face.

“There was a lot of blood,” said Avery’s mother, who had to clean up the bloody nose. “[Lindeman] really shouldn’t be allowed unsupervised around anyone of any age.

“Funcle? More like lunkle.”

Still, some moments were sweeter than others. Olivia played with stamps for a while, and gave Lindeman a small piece of paper that said “mermaizing” with a picture of a mermaid. He opened it to find she had stamped tiny hearts inside. (Never mind the fact that she gave Lauren two stamps.) And Charlotte spent ten minutes handing out straws to everyone in the family.

“Even though she gave me a straw last,” said Lindeman, proudly displaying his yellow straw, “it still counts!”

And while normally Charlotte’s favorite thing to say to Lindeman is “No,” at bedtime she asked him for a kiss and a hug, and said “I love you.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s really a funcle moment,” said Lindeman. “But it makes being an uncle more than enough.”

Drinking Trip Hampered by Bouts of Boating

On By TommyIn From the Archives, The Lindeman DailyLeave a comment

Excitement abounded as T. Lindeman stepped off the plane in Amsterdam for a trip that, he hoped, would make his liver expand to shapes and sizes heretofore unknown.

“Like the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” explained Lindeman. “Except instead of my heart growing three times larger because of the Christmas cheer in Whoville, it would be my liver because of all the beer in Amsterdam.”

Lindeman arrived with a group from the Fairmount Rowing Association, his rowing club in Philadelphia. The team had traveled across the Atlantic to race in the 51st Annual Heineken Regatta on the Amstel River.

“With proper nouns like that,” said Lindeman, “the real reason for the trip was clear. ‘Heineken’? ‘Amstel’? Let’s just say the forecast called for beer.” The forecast also called for rain; it rained most of Lindeman’s time in Amsterdam.

With drinking on the brain and an afternoon arrival, Lindeman joined some of his teammates for dinner and a quick pint at a local watering hole. As 2AM loomed and his pillow sang a siren’s song, Lindeman left his team and went on autopilot.

“Tommy [Lindeman] has this thing he does in Europe,” said a source close to Lindeman that requested to remain anonymous because it was his brother. “It’s like a pre-bed ritual. Some people remove their makeup, some put their hair up or clean their ears. Some people even floss and brush their teeth. Tommy lumbers around whatever town he’s in until he finds a kebab, then brings it to his hotel and absolutely houses it all over his bed. If you’ve ever shared a room with him in Europe, you know what I’m talking about. And I’m sorry.”

The following morning, surrounded by pita crumbs and shredded lettuce, Lindeman rose with the sun, planning for a day of pancakes and beer. This would be the first time of many that his plans would be interrupted.

“The team wanted to practice,” bemoaned Lindeman. “So we had to head out to the boathouse where we were borrowing a boat for the race, rig the boat, check over our seats to make sure they were ready, and then practice rowing down the race course.

“It really got in the way of our being the ABC — Amsterdam Booze Crew.”

When asked for comment about the ABC, Lindeman’s teammates responded, “What? That’s not a thing.”

With practice over, the team stopped for lunch at a pub near the race course. It was here where the first signs of a schism in the squad began to show.

“There were some older folks in the group who began referring to each guy in the boat as either an ‘old guy’ or a ‘young guy’,” said one of the ‘old guys’. “And after lunch, the ‘old guys’ wanted to go drinking, while the ‘young guys’ wanted to take in some culture. So we split up.”

Lindeman, at 31, was somehow considered a ‘young guy’ — and one of the younger ‘young guys’ at that. But he joined neither group when they split.

“I was tired, so I went to nap.”

Telling words from the self-proclaimed and only confirmed member of the Amsterdam Booze Crew.

With two days of racing ahead, the team had to forego another night on the town. “‘Another Night Falls Victim To Priorities’ — there’s your headline,” quipped Lindeman unhelpfully. Early the next morning, he joined the team at the boathouse, where they launched, raced, and returned to the dock, all inside of a short four hours.

After a quick dinner with the team, Lindeman joined a few of the ‘young guys’ for a pint (which was limited to only a pint) before they rested and went to bed ahead of the second day of racing. “Another opportunity to ABC — Always Be(er) Crushing — ruined. ‘Evening Blimey Stymied By Aquatic Past-Timey’ — there’s a great headline you can use free-of-charge!” offered Lindeman, generously presenting another terrible headline.

The second day of racing consisted of two back-to-back races, and their final placement was decided by the sum of time from all three of that weekend’s races (the 5k time trial on day one, and the 2.5k time trial and 500m duel on day two).

“Not too shabby of a showing!” said one of the ‘old guys’. “We finished in the middle of the pack. If first is first, and last is last, and everything else is the middle of the pack, we finished in the middle of the pack.”

For Lindeman, this meant the rowing interruptions of the trip would finally cease, and he could get to work: “‘At Long Last, Lindeman Libates…Liberally,’” he shared with a wide smile. “Feel free to use that for your article, the fans will love it!”

After showering off with an enormous group of men from all over the world, the team went to the finish line where Heineken had set up a large bar in the Nereus boathouse. With wet whistles, they continued on to a pub for lunch and further drinks. Lindeman later led a crew to the Heineken factory for a tour and tasting. “If there’s anything more exciting than drinking beer, it’s seeing how it’s made! And the perfect opportunity to ABC — Alotta (sic) Beers, Cool!”

The rest of the team’s time in Amsterdam was a blur of Heineken, Van Gogh, breweries, Heineken, pubs, blushing past red-lit windows, kebabs, and Heineken. Looking back on the trip, Lindeman gave his final thoughts.

“Honestly, the rowing was probably my favorite part… off-the-record, of course,” he noted with a wink. “But being grouped in with the ‘young guys,’ I need to be seen as hip and cool and fun. ABC, am I right? Awesome Beer Chap! So how about this for a title: ‘Drinking Trip Hampered By Bouts of Boating.’

“Nah, that’s no good.”