The baby is due in two weeks. Two weeks! I can’t believe how close I am to officially becoming a mother. This is unbelievable! Because Nino is so close to being born, I’ve begun my weekly visits to the doctor. I went yesterday and found out that I am 80% effaced and a whole centimeter dilated. This pretty much means that Nino could be born before his due date, on his due date, or after his due date. Lovely. I was kind of thinking it would be anytime now. I've been kind of hoping that it would be any time now. I recently bent over really far to pick up a pencil at work. I've been worried ever since that, despite the reassurance from my doctor that I'm a complete nutcase, I squashed Nino's head. I need to meet this baby and see whether I've squashed his head or destroyed him in some other way. I need to meet him and find out who this little joker who's been playing around with my guts for so many months actually is.
I feel ready for many reasons. I mean we have all of the baby stuff. We have a plan. We are dying to meet the kid. But there are still so many things I wanted to have done by now. I mean I have all of these character flaws I meant to fix before El Nino Extremo Birth Extravaganza ‘08/’09 began. I even have a list, you guys. For instance, I am going to be a mother in approximately two weeks but I have yet to mature to the point of being able to take a dump in a public restroom. Can you picture it? I’m potty-training Nino. We’re at Target buying some pre-cut melon when he tells me he needs to go ploppies. I take him to the bathroom and he says he feels weird about going because there are people around and it is dirty, and going ploppies is something he prefers doing in the comfort and privacy of his own home. In order to prevent him from shitting his pants, I’ll have to tell him that when you gotta go you gotta go or else you’ll get diverticulitis and polyps and die.
I am already learning that one of the biggest parts of being a parent is being a total hypocrite. I am realizing that I can’t change my personality in order to be a good mom, instead I’m just going to have to lie a lot. I’ll start by hiding any of my report cards with an average lower than 3.9 (not that I keep my report cards or that there are many that fit that description). I’ll destroy all photographic evidence of me engaging in any of the following: public nudity, intoxication, chain smoking, bar fights, etc. I’ll force my friends to forget all unsavory tales of me and threaten Fran out of recalling the many objectionable phases I went through during our courtship including but not limited to the box wine years and the several months I spent beginning every sentence with “who do I gotta blow around here to... (insert "get some Captain Crunch","get a ride to the swimming pool", etc …). I’ll even learn to go number two in public restrooms, or at the very least, stop giggling when I know that that is what other people in the restroom are doing. That way, when I force my children to excel beyond mediocrity, when I forbid underage drinking and deem it punishable by groundation and limb removal, when I preach humility and grace over belligerence, and when I force my 2 year old to poo at Target, I’ll have something with which to back it---a flawless past—a history unmarked by sin. I can only thank everyone in advance for the continued support.
I feel ready for many reasons. I mean we have all of the baby stuff. We have a plan. We are dying to meet the kid. But there are still so many things I wanted to have done by now. I mean I have all of these character flaws I meant to fix before El Nino Extremo Birth Extravaganza ‘08/’09 began. I even have a list, you guys. For instance, I am going to be a mother in approximately two weeks but I have yet to mature to the point of being able to take a dump in a public restroom. Can you picture it? I’m potty-training Nino. We’re at Target buying some pre-cut melon when he tells me he needs to go ploppies. I take him to the bathroom and he says he feels weird about going because there are people around and it is dirty, and going ploppies is something he prefers doing in the comfort and privacy of his own home. In order to prevent him from shitting his pants, I’ll have to tell him that when you gotta go you gotta go or else you’ll get diverticulitis and polyps and die.
I am already learning that one of the biggest parts of being a parent is being a total hypocrite. I am realizing that I can’t change my personality in order to be a good mom, instead I’m just going to have to lie a lot. I’ll start by hiding any of my report cards with an average lower than 3.9 (not that I keep my report cards or that there are many that fit that description). I’ll destroy all photographic evidence of me engaging in any of the following: public nudity, intoxication, chain smoking, bar fights, etc. I’ll force my friends to forget all unsavory tales of me and threaten Fran out of recalling the many objectionable phases I went through during our courtship including but not limited to the box wine years and the several months I spent beginning every sentence with “who do I gotta blow around here to... (insert "get some Captain Crunch","get a ride to the swimming pool", etc …). I’ll even learn to go number two in public restrooms, or at the very least, stop giggling when I know that that is what other people in the restroom are doing. That way, when I force my children to excel beyond mediocrity, when I forbid underage drinking and deem it punishable by groundation and limb removal, when I preach humility and grace over belligerence, and when I force my 2 year old to poo at Target, I’ll have something with which to back it---a flawless past—a history unmarked by sin. I can only thank everyone in advance for the continued support.
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