Not even once.

The plan was to do a few exercises at home; jump on the bike, do a few hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and deep bends on a daily basis. But the demands for parental attention are great and many, and I just haven’t had the time to separate for exercise.

I think at some point, I’ll have to build it in like I’ve done with sleeping, which is to say that during the three-hour period between changing, feeding, burping and settling down, I’ll have to come up with a quick workout. Maybe 100 push ups for every diaper change within an hour? Maybe 100 sit-ups for every 15 minutes of uncontrollable crying?

Don’t know how I’ll manage cardio, but I figure that I’ve walked a couple of miles in the house carrying him around to induce his sleeping.

Any tips on how to stay cut up as a new father?

I’m a sucker for fried chicken. It’s a supreme delicacy to me, and I could eat it for all meals from a variety of places. Maybe it’s my southern roots, maybe its the Old Bay that I like to put on it. I love fried chicken. Sadly, I haven’t been to the gym in approximately a week, but I’ve not been shy about my fried chicken and biscuit consumption.

In some ways, I’ve embraced the life of not going to the gym, as it puts my wife and I on an even plane of inactivity. The more tired she gets, (although she has done a masterful job of getting used to it) the less energy she has to devote to her Tae-Bo training regiment. And it works for us if I don’t come in the house sweating from a two-mile run and weight-lifting session, or if I came in smelling of chlorine from 30 minutes of swimming.

So there we have it. She now shares my love for fried chicken, and I match her inability to exercise with complete laziness.

A match made in Heaven, waiting on the stork to bring us bundle of joy and colon cleanser this Fall.

And that I am becoming her father-in-law.

Meet the parents. The people whose ideology, idiosyncrasies and insanity you will eventually inherit. Don’t try to fight it, you are already hardwired for everything you hated or mocked growing up.

In a way, it’s a good thing. Whatever instabilities and insecurities you inherit, you have an example of just what is ahead for your children. And if you are real slick, you can catch it in mid-sentence or mid-thought, apply all of your maturity to the situation, and consciously focusing on not being that way.

But believe that you will be that way.

As protective as your parents were over you, and you thought it was smothering or invasive dominion, is exactly how smothering and invasive you will be. As short-tempered and exasperated as they were, you are likely to blow two fuses just as quick. And as loving as they are, you will be just as tender.

Because you recognize where you would be if they weren’t that way.

Most of the time its laughable, especially when your spouse catches you in one of those moments where you sound just like one of your parents. Your face turns red, and you silently vow to watch that tone or de-arch that eyebrow in the future. Sometimes its surreal, when you are looking at your wife or your husband, and they turn their face just so that, for a split second, you could swear you were looking at their mother or father.

I’m noticing that now with my parents. My mother’s glasses align with her prominent cheek bones in a way that is genuinely Grandma. The things that she says, and the way that she says them, hearken me back to warm summer days in Boykins, Va. I get sad sometimes, because it forces me to consider the reward of aging, which, in this lifetime is wisdom, and everlasting joy in the next. It can make you uncomfortable, even a little sad.

But then you snap back to the present, to rejoice in the blessings of their years. And you know that you are a part of a lineage of love and laughter.

Nice to meet you, mom and dad.

It’s funny because just a few years ago, I thought that losing hair was not that big of a deal. Just cut it short, and keep it moving. Quite the arrogant statement from someone who wasn’t losing his hair at the time, because now I find the prospect to be harowing.

Every mirror I see is ready reason to see just how thinned out it has become over the last few days. Seems like everytime I think about it, there is less and less of it on my mind. I knew I would have to go the bald route at some point, just not before the age of 30.

And it doesn’t stop there, because the hair that is rising above it all is going gray. So either way I go, I’m aging before my time. People always say I have an old spirit, but I never wanted my hair to take such a close listen.

So where do me and my hair go from here? I can’t say we’ve been through a lot together, except for that one summer where I grew it out and got it braided for the first time, only for my mother to almost come to tears. The truth is that I’ve spent most of my life trying to keep it away from me for the benefit of societal norms.

And now that it has resigned to staying away, I want it to stay.

I never wanted my hair to leave. I didn’t mind if it was being short with me or flaking out on me. We always had an agreement that through thick and thin, we would work together for style and substance. We had something, but my hair has decided that its time to move on without me.

And that means that I have to man up and move on without it.

The cruelest thing about losing my hair is that its not even going away in a nice way. Most guys lose the hair on top of their heads. I’m losing it on the sides. It’s like a nasty divorce where my hair wants the world to know who was the boss in the partnership.

Winter is here, and its going to take some getting used to being out in the cold. But if LL Cool J and Samuel L. Jackson can pull it off, maybe it won’t be so bad for me.

We still date. Often. And that means eating out every now and then, and when we’re on the run, catching up with our favorite poisons at the local drive thru. It’s good when you’re doing it, because you’re caught all up in the sauce, literally and figuratively.

I’m cool with that, because my wife has kept up her face up enough to conceal her laughter when she says "I love the way you look." Unfortunately, everyone else is taking detailed notice of my personal expansion.

Church, work, everybody notices the emerging look, and they certainly aren’t shy about letting me know, although its definitely in a nice way. "You are filling out quite nicely since you’ve gotten married," or "you are putting on some weight, huh? You should be glad you have a wife that cooks like that."

Like that?

Yeah, she cooks like that, and it looks like I’m eating like that. The funny thing is, I fully expected everyone to be invested in our marriage, but not to the point that my pants size would be an integral part of of the investment.

The details are pretty sketchy, but I’m sure it had something to do with typing something into Mapquest inefficiently and taking issue with the fact that she’s so impatient with the littlest of things. Both of us should have known better, but we all can agree that like most arguments, it’s highly likely that I’m the most at fault.

Despite this level of fault, I’m currently stretched out on the bedroom floor with hot towels and Epsom salt being wrapped around my lower back; this after removing myself from a hot bath that she drew for me. Despite my pride and petulance, she still can’t stand to see me in pain, which I’m eternally grateful for. Even if she has a slight smirk on her face every time I howl out in painful despair, I deserve it. What I don’t deserve, is a wonderful partner and friend like her.