Getting Ready for The Day

We've started putting Alison's hospital bag together. We're six weeks or so away and so it seemed like that ought to be something of a priority at this point. Are we late? Should this have been done earlier? I'm not sure. What I do know is that a guy (me) trying to help a woman (Alison) shop does not always go well. This last time wasn't so bad. I managed to find a couple items that didn't make her scrunch up her face in horror. There have been times when, during the shopping process, I have brought something to her attention that provoked the same look a fresh pile of dog poo on the sidewalk would. Apparently my tastes in women's clothing aren't quite up to snuff. Which if you think about it, ought to be somewhat of a relief to my significant other. Does any woman want her partner to have better taste in women't clothing than she does?

But we managed to get almost everything we needed this weekend. The only two things left on the list are sour candy on stick, and of all things, Depends adult diapers. Apparently pregnancy is even messier than I have been led to believe, despite a number of quite horrifying videos we have sat through. Not that the wonder of childbirth is horrifying. It just looks painful, somewhat distressful, and not altogether dignified.

Which also makes me wonder exactly why people videotape these things. Don't get me wrong, I suppose I understand the impulse to get such a momentuous occasion preserved for posterity. but I wonder if the women are really all that eager to relive the experience (even if it is from a distance), if the kid ever really wants to see it (although I suppose it might be a good deterrent if I do have a daughter - 'See that? It's hard to go to prom when you're squeezing out a bowling ball'), and I'm not sure I'll want to have that kind of footage just laying around, you never know if you're going to mix it up with some other dvd and give yourself the shock of your life when you're trying to find that video of the dog doing that cute little trick with the frisbee.

Speaking of deterrents for my daughter, if that's what the little monkey turns out to be, I am going to have to admit that Maury Povich may have one redeeming value to society. The man is the most despicable misery pimp on TV. He uses people's failures and pain for profit, sort of like a politician, and I really hope his seat in hell is directly under Satan's outhouse. But around dating age, I'm going to sit the girl down and make her watch every clip I can get my hands on of these bimbos who show up, and despite a small fortune's worth of paternity tests on large numbers of men, cannot identify their baby's daddy - 'See that? Don't be a tramp!'

There are still days when I can't sleep, or just get really overwhelmed by the whole thing. Kids were not really on my radar before this happened. I mean, I always figured at some point they would come up in my life, I have had enough hints from the family about being the last male in the family who can carry the name on (including one very direct inquiry from my grandfather on my dad's side; not something to spring on a guy before his first cup of coffee, by the way). But when all this happened, I have to be straight with all of you, I was blindsided.

I'm glad it happened, having had time to reflect on things for a bit. It's helped focus me a bit more on my life, it's certainly helped me see things in a whole new light (I'm much more paranoid about things burning down, exploding, shocking, etc.). I think part of my avoidance of the subject was a conscious decision to avoid responsibility for as long as possible. It's been suggested I suffer from a bit of Peter Pan syndrome, and I wouldn't argue. But now that I've been given the opportunity to be a dad, I gotta tell you, I really, really feel lucky that I am where I am, and that I'm doing what I'm doing, especially with who I'm doing it with.

Oh and by the way, if any of you have any pull with my darling lady, would you please help explain to her that in NO WAY WHATSOEVER is Kenny G an appropriate soundtrack to which to bring a child into the world.