Well, since the world did not end this month as the Mayans
allegedly predicted, I will yet again endow upon the literary world a small
glimpse into my thoughts. Go ahead and set up your electron microscope for this
amoeba –sized brain leak. I spend much of my day thinking and although much of
the brain power is spent on work-related issues, there are times in which the
synapses trip the light fantastic (Or something to that effect). Lately my
thoughts have meandered across such wonderful topics such as the economy,
politics, and interpersonal relations. (Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m
talking about manners). Among those
rather depressing topics comes a ray of hope, a burst of sunshine through the
mushroom cloud of human malfeasance. Curious? Well by all means, read on!
While I realize my lovely Bride has already posted about our
wonderful news, I have yet to share my perspective of this glorious
event-to-be; she and I are anxiously anticipation a new addition to the
household. No, not another puppy like our Jack, saved from the clutches of the
animal control gestapo. We are expecting a baby (As opposed to what, a new
yacht? Sheesh…). So to get the basics
out of the way, yes, I am VERY happy about it, and no, it was not a surprise. All
things considered, no pregnancy should be a real surprise, assuming the
marriage follows the traditional definition of a marriage. Even those who did not
plan for a baby should not be surprised when their um, actions, lead to
an easy to read blue line, or pink double plus sign… but I digress.
I love children. (Well, at least my own children. I’m not
always so terribly fond of the offspring of others). And it’s a wonderful thing
that I do love them, considering I am about
to have another one. Who else can make you happier than a lark one moment, and
then mad as an old wet hen the next?
Speaking of wet hens, our chickens will stand in the pouring rain for
hours and seem to enjoy it, never once uttering a cross squawk. Makes me wonder about that old phrase after
all… Anyway, children are a source of great joy and great pain. For instance,
the Monkey will be ever-so-gently cavorting around the living room making silly
faces and laughing, just filling the
room with joy, and then run full speed across said room and jump into his Daddy’s
lap…and well, enter the pain. It’s almost like small children are born with built-in
targeting devices in their needle-sharp knees. The military should look into
using little boys’ knees as models for the newest missile defense system. Knees
NEVER miss their mark.
Another exciting thing about having a new baby is all that
wonderful potential wrapped up in such a small package. Now you might think I’m
talking about the possibility of this freshly hatched bit of human tissue one
day becoming President of the United States, but I’m not. I’m talking about the
ability of this small person to produce prodigious amounts of poo, another of
my Bride’s favorite topics. How can it be that such a sweet being can take milk
and turn it into a form of matter that could weaken Superman himself? And what is formula really made of, powered
stink bug? I mean it smells bad enough when you mix it up, but once it has
processed in the gizzard of that beautiful bundle of joy, it becomes more
deadly than anything ever released at Chernobyl. Sarin gas, bah. We have formula
poo. Even Marion Donovan, the inventor of the disposable undergarments for
infants, appropriately named these poo packs DIEpers… (Yes, I know, its diaper, with an “A”, but that doesn’t
fit into the pun very well now, does it?).
And while I’m on this topic, did ya’ll know that all diapers are falsely
advertised? No matter what the package says, those doggone things won’t hold 30
pounds. Not even close.
Quite often I an asked if I’m hoping for a boy or girl and
my response is “Whatever I am blessed with, as long as he is healthy”. And while my Darling and I are hoping for a
boy, we sure won’t be disappointed if it isn’t.
A girl just means I get to buy more guns for dating season…Uh, I meant
hunting season. Not that I would ever actually
shoot a boy trying to date one of my girls, but HE doesn’t know that for sure and the
girls aren’t really one hundred percent certain. I’d like to keep it that way . All I know
is, boy or girl, I will love and protect this child with all the fierceness in
my being, and will do my best to raise it with the values taught to me by my
Mom and Dad; Honor, Integrity, Kindness, and the sheer, unadulterated love of a
30 ounce porterhouse steak cooked medium. (Sorry, it’s getting close to dinner time and my
thoughts strayed).
So as my beautiful Bride and I travel this path of
biological wonder, I will continue to occasionally post about it and keep you
up to date on the pregnancy, weight gain (mine, not hers), delivery, and which one of us gets
woozy first in the delivery room…me, or the doctor. Until next time,
