Let's see, in the last three weeks, here's a quick rundown: baby furniture all done, diaper disposal device assembled, baby clothes inventoried and ready to go, stuffed animals arranged in crib, baby growing like crazy (more on this in a moment), one woman entirely over the novelty of being pregnant, and nesting (though to be honest, Alison nesting is not that different from her being her normal, organized, meticulous, impatient-with-dirt, intolerant-of-disorder, self).
The baby, in another instance of something that is probably my fault, is getting pretty big in the belly. The doc is saying the little monkey is already 8 lbs. As most of you know, Alison ain't the biggest gal as is, so an 8 lbs. baby is pretty significant precentage of the overall package. So, the doc has Alison scheduled to induce in about two days. This boils down to a few factors: large kid, Baylor's induction unit gets booked up about two weeks in advance, the bigger the baby - the more chance of a c-section. So the doc said we may as well set it up so that if Alison decides to induce, we can go ahead and get this show on the road.
On the one hand, it's nice to think that we can put a solid due date on this event, on the other hand, there is the crushing reality that HOLY SHNIKES!!! I'M HAVING A BABY. I'm going to go ahead and say that no matter what anybody says, they're not ready for their first kid. That's like saying a first term senator from one of the most politically corrupt cities in America is ready to bring truth and transparency to Washington D.C. (you know who you are).
It's frickin' daunting. The truth is, most of the time I have a hard enough time taking care of myself. And those of you who have known me long enough, know pretty well, I managed to mess that up a few times. How the hell do you raise a kid? Yeah, yeah, I know about the books, the videos, the websites, and the mountain of accumulated knowledge out there that supposedly tells you how to raise a munchkin so that they're still willing to speak to you when they finally realize they don't have to depend on you anymore.
But what about the stuff they don't tell you about? How do I keep the kid safe from Crocs, James Taylor, mullets, $500 cars with $4,000 stereos, white gangsta rappers, silk paisly shirts, or movies starring David Cross?
How do you explain to a child that despite the love and joy and happiness that you (hopefully are successful in providing) that the rest of the world is also full of really stupid, astonishingly ignorant, and sometimes really evil people?
I've been eating salame, brie and bagguette sandwiches for lunch a lot lately. It reminds me of trips I took with my parents and sister when I was a kid. It's nostalgia, memories of what I remember as a simpler times.
How do you balance the sense of innocence you want your child to have with the reality of what's going on around us?
There have been very few moments of genuine, justified, inescapable fear in my life. Most of them had more to do with failing others than failing myself, and now I'm faced with trying not to fail the single most important person I'll ever have to worry about disappointing. Daunting.
Also...for the record...and I may regret this...pregnant women are not always rational or reasonable. There I said it.
