I’m still here. We’re doing great. We have 66 days to go, or more, or less, depending on how much you want to scare us. The wife is
big, stunning, gorgeous. Actually, all of the above.
I’ve been productive. I painted the nursery. I built the crib. I finally tackled the mold growing on the ceiling in the shower. Even though me and “projects” don’t generally get along, I don’t have any funny stories of how much I screwed these up, because I didn’t. I’ve found a well of patience within myself that has never existed at any point in my life.
I think I’m also experiencing some sort of pre-life-change crisis, because I’ve been fighting off the urge to buy shit I don’t need like crazy. And sometimes I don’t even fight it off.
Like these new Kid Robot mini-figures:
Me: I’m going through some sort of crisis. I just bought more Ninja Turtles.
Wife: That’s cool.
Me: I think I’m having buyer’s remorse though.
Wife: It’s okay to still buy things for yourself!
Me: Okay, cool. You want to see them? *pulls up picture online*
Wife: They’re cute! Which one did you get?
Me: …all of them.
See? I hate myself. They do glow in the dark though. GLOW IN THE DARK THOUGH. And they come on retro-styled cards that mimic the original action figure packaging. And I’m sure in three months when I’m completely overwhelmed and sleep-deprived, they’ll be an unending glow-in-the-dark pool of comfort and happiness….right? Right?
And now let me give you a preview of what this blog may be like for the next year. (Feel free to abandon ship now.) The wife had her first baby shower, given by her co-workers. She came home with mountains of stuff. It all seemed pretty standard to me: blankets and rattles and tugboat outfits. You know. Baby shit. I got this. I can dig it.
But one gift we received gave me pause. No, it gave me something else. It gave me that sort of bone-chilling anxiety that life would never ever be the same. I mean sure, I knew that, abstractly. But now I had physical evidence of it.
We got a snot-sucker.
I looked at it for a long time, without words. I considered it. It’s a tube that you stick one end in baby’s nose, and one end in your mouth, and you suck the snot out of his nose.
Pause to let the bizarre new life wash over me.
One day, I will take my son in my arms, put a straw in his nose, and suck his snot out with my mouth. It will be a bonding experience.
This is apparently a thing that people do.
I guess I knew that babies get mucus. I guess I knew that it has to come out, somehow. Actually I’m lying. I did not know this. Maybe you guys should warn me of more, or less, depending on how much you want to scare me.