Monday, January 7, 2013


Kind of stuck at this point, I feel like everyday life has come to a grinding halt as my wife and I hover over the runway in a holding pattern.  We watch movies, hangout with the dogs, and otherwise, well, wait.  We may need to get out of the house, but we're not quite sure where to go.

Planning any type of outing takes strategic timing and maneuvering.  Road trips are out of the question.  Fatigue can set in at any moment, so we have to be prepared.  One minute my wife is racing through the house, folding baby clothes before rearranging furniture in the nursery, bustling with energy while racing up and down the hall.  And then suddenly all is quiet, I find her on the couch, dead to the world, sleeping through another fascinating case of Law & Order.  Just how many episodes of this how exist? 

On Saturday, I found myself talking to the little guy in her belly, singing songs and telling stories--which may be giving him second thoughts about coming out.  We placed our bets as to his arrival.  I’m thinking it’s going to be a couple of weeks, which means two things.  His mother will become increasingly unbearable uncomfortable, and I will work myself into a neurotic mess as I continue to think about D-day.  This is how I spend my weekends.

I did get my truck cleaned up on Sunday, as I prepare to sell my manhood for something more, uh, baby friendly.  Actually this decision didn't bother me at all, as I look forward to seeing a babyseat in the rearview mirror.

So goes our life during these days of anticipating and planning, with each day passing as we wait.  My weekends have changed drastically, as I kicked things off Friday by watching the baby care dvd we received during our class, only this time I didn’t laugh.  With my wife catching up on her lesson plans, I watched intently, unable to control myself from saying "aww" as the little baby took his first breaths. I’m kidding of course, I watched arm wrestling on Spike Tv, drinking beer and eating a raw steak, smoking a cigar while curling cinderblocks with my free hand.  I’m still a man, I think.

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