On Pooping and Parenthood

As Alison noted I have voted myself Chief Diaper Changer. I did this mostly because of the guilt I feel everytime I see her straining to do something she used to be able to do with not much effort. Pregnancy can certainly be awkward for women, and she is handling it with more grace than I would have given any woman credit for.

Besides I have a degree in Political Science, so I have a certain amount of expertise in dealing with large piles of s#%t left laying around by someone with no thought for the people who have to live with the consequences. But unlike politicians, I know that eventually the baby will learn to dispose of its own mess.

We were sitting in Costco, that Mecca of consumer excess, eating their excessively cheap munchie food (a buck fifty for a huge slice of pizza? Evil.), and as I absentmindedly finished off the crust I was struck by a) the sheer number of children in the place, and b) the middleaged white couple running around in Dianetics t-shirts. If my kid ever joins that stupid cult, I'll blow something up.

It's not that there were an abnormal number of kids there, they weren't having a free appearance by Dora the Explorer or anything. It was just staggering how many people have kids. I remember when I didn't know anybody (at least, any responsible anybodies) with kids. Now I'm hoping more of my friends get knocked up so I'll have people to hang out with and bitch to. And by bitch I mean commiserate. Shared struggles, the support of someone else with that thousand yard stare brought on by the debilitating combination of baby's chemical warfare campaign, lack of sleep, and lack of attention to one's own life.

I do realize that sounds like I'm only considering the downsides. Don't worry, I'm not. I'm just preparing for what I've heard happens. I'm all for the good stuff, and I'm looking forward to it with the same kind of silly optimism you generally find in new parents. I'm also starting to get unreasonably emotional. I chuckled to myself when Alison told me how she started crying at some schaltzy thing on TV. Then I was watching LA Ink. A guy came in to get a portrait of his 10 month old daughter (the picture the tattoo was based on was, excuse my sappiness, freakin adorable) who had already survived a bout with cancer. I almost cried. If they hadn't cut to a suitably manly commercial when they did, there is a good chance I might have started squeezing out tears.

It's humbling to think that you are going to be the biggest influence in someone's life. It's transcendant to think that there is going to be this little person who is going to see you as the be all end all of their existence. Somebody once told me that they were trying to be as good a person as their dog thought they were. At the time it seemed like the be all end all philosophical musing on being a decent person. Now I imagine looking into my kid's eyes and even, now before the little monkey has shown up, I want to be the person that itty bitty little baby thinks I am.

At the very least I won't be the worst parent ever. Let's face it, a trip to any mall in America can do wonders for your confidence as a parent. There are people way dumber, way meaner, way more irresponsible than me out raising babies. So I got that going for me...which is nice.

And by the way, I can dance. I just don't drink enough anymore to make it seem like a good idea.