Did you know that the male Darwin frog hides his mate's eggs in his vocal pouch until they hatch, turn into tadpoles, and then grow legs? After their legs are grown he opens his mouth and lets them hop out.
I think I'd like to model my fathering skills and pattern after the fox, not the frog. During some delicious supper or another this week while Mag and I were sitting at the table I asked her one of those truly important questions that I ponder in my mind for hours on end. It went something like this, "Let's say that when our son is seven years old you and he are driving in Atlanta. You take a wrong turn and have to pull into an abandoned lot to turn around. When you pull in a transvestite hooker approaches the car waving and blowing kisses. Flipper asks, 'What is that?' What do you tell him?"
She thought about it for a moment and said, "I think I'd just tell him the truth."
"Correct answer!" I shouted in jubilation and we went on to discuss many things along the line of transvestite hookers, like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, etc. Mag said that she didn't really want our kids believing in all of those delightful little holiday myths and I said I agreed. I told her, "I don't ever plan to try and actively make my kid dumber in any way." I think all those myths are fun and all, but I think they're fun knowing that they aren't real. If I tried to convince my child that something obviously false is actually real, I'm just making him dumber than he was before I started speaking. That's something I'm going to attempt not to do.
Mag also told me a funny story about when she was a small child (like four or five) and told her cousin (who was the same age) that Santa Claus wasn't real. He cried, and her aunt got upset, but like I told her, think about it - two kids the same age are meeting one another with completely conflicting viewpoints and their only, "proof" is what their parents have told them. Why does her cousin run to his mom crying about Santa not being real, instead of Mag running to her parents crying because Santa is real? Because kids aren't as dumb as we all like to pretend they are and he really knew, even at that young age, that Santa being real didn't add up. I've always been of the opinion that children are a lot smarter, and can handle a lot more, then we give them credit for. I could be wrong, and maybe I'll find out the hard way, but I prefer not to begin my foray into fatherhood automatically assuming my son is a dummy.
So we went to the doctor last Friday and got an ultrasound. First of all, let me complain. I know that it's a cliche that everyone waits forever at a doctor's office but...seriously guys. We were there for two and a half hours. TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Our appointment was at 3:30, and we were supposed to be having some folk over for dinner at like 5:30, but had to keep pushing it back further and further. Now, while I certainly love hanging out with expectant mothers of all shapes, sizes, creeds, ages, and nationalities, along with thumbing through women's magazines and watching Fox News, even I tire after two and a half hours. This reminds me of a quick aside - for our last doctor's appointment I had to meet Mag up there, as we were coming from two separate locations. I pull in, see her car in the parking lot, and walk into the front door. Every eye (all female) turn and watch me as I casually stroll into an OB/GYN. I look around, don't see Margaret anywhere (just a couple score of eyes watching me with confusion) so sit down, pick up a Women's Health magazine, and begin thumbing through it. Always be unembarrassable. Anyway, in the end the wait is all worth it as we got some more pictures of our not-so-little bundle of joy(?).
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| If Flip was a fish and I was an extremely photogenic 8-year-old, this would be our first picture. As it is, this is just a picture of a fish who is ALSO 1 lb 4 oz. |
When we finally got to see the doctor (after being moved from room to room where I'd stand next to the door and passive-aggressively loudly announce, "This is ridiculous! Let's just leave!" every time I heard someone walking by) we asked her various questions that we suppose expectant parents ask. I told her that I could feel the baby kicking, and she looked at me with incredulity (or disbelief, that little jerk) and said that normally one couldn't feel a baby kicking from the outside until week 25. I told her I had felt him kick two weeks ago, at week 20. She brushed it off like she assumed my imagination was overactive (to be fair to her it is, but not in this area) and went to put her little microphone machine on Mag's belly to hear Flipper's heartbeat. As soon as she put it on there Flipper kicked the hell out of her and she jerked her hand back and said, "Wow! I just felt him kick too!" Flip and I mentally high fived (awwie! Our first mental high five!) and then we all returned home to cook massive amounts of shish kabob and dance until the world ends (literally! No, seriously. We're still dancing right now, that's why it's taking me so long to write this).Today I've been working on stencils for his dresser, and before too terribly long Mag will be sewing all the fabrics necessary for the decoration and comfort of his nursery. After we do all of that I'll take a picture and post it on here, along with a picture of Mag's newly swoll (not a real word) belly. Other than doctor's appointments, there's not a whole lot we can do but wait. Pregnancy is weird (for the guy, I'm sure it's completely normal and uneventful for the girl) - on the one hand it seems like it's flying by incredibly quickly, but on the other hand all you do is sit around and wait for something to happen. Mag and I have both said in the past week, "Man, I really can't wait until he's finally here." I know it's going to change things forever, and to be honest it still scares me immensely, but he's such a little person now I want him to be here and then to be crawling and then to be talking and then to be asking questions and then to be playing sports and then to be teaching him to drive and all of those good things. I know everyone says that kids grow up too fast, and I'm sure it feels that way from the other end, but there's no harm in a little bit of anticipation. I'll grow tired of him soon enough - he's easy to love now.
Seriously though, this is fun. As scary as it is, and as life-changing as it'll be, and as crazy as it can make us, and as bewildering as the whole birth process may seem, this is one fantastic adventure. I didn't think I was ready for it, but every day it feels a little more like I just might be.
