A Bowlful of Cherries

Celebrating Matty and Noah

D-day

Donna’s due date is tomorrow. On one hand, I can’t wait. What’s it going to be like to love two people so much I can’t imagine life without them? In the book, Where the Wild Things Are, there’s a line that illustrates how I’ll feel:

Don’t go … we’ll eat you up … we love you so.

On the other, well, I can wait. It’s not so much about our lives changing irrevocably and revolving around a poop machine, but that every decision will have consequences. When it was just Donna and me, we could figure stuff out pretty easily, but soon we’ll have a third person to worry about. This little person won’t be able to communicate in anything other than howls and shrieks. What kind of person will this baby be — does headbutting mean an angry child? Will the food we feed the baby cause massive allergies that we’ll miss until we make a PBJ sandwich? Will the TV shows we watch deplete our baby’s self-esteem? ‘Cause, you know, you can be voted off? Is that corner of the IKEA table really sharp or not? What do we do when the baby screams in the 10-items or less line? How do we ensure that the baby votes Democratic?

The entire pregnancy has been tough on Donna, and maybe caring for a baby is easier than going through another nine months full of people telling us we haven’t seen anything yet. I’ll be glad to see her feeling normal again, for her to stop cutting conversations short when something kicks, for her to get a decent night’s sleep without having to wake up to flip over. A night’s sleep may take a while, but the possibility is there.

There have been many times when we wonder if we’re fit to be parents. Like when we laugh at video footage of kids falling on their asses, or when the milk goes past its “sell-by” date and we still feed it to each other. Or even when we taunt the other person for putting down a four-point word in Scrabble. And our insane anticipation of a new season of Survivor means we can’t possibly be good parents.

The good news: no plants have died in our house in the past year, other than this small one that was dying anyway. Really.

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Written by Michael

25 Apr 2004 at 1226pm

Posted in Misc.

One Response

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  1. Mom did use to buy us Easter clothes…don’t you remember the pictures of us in our spanking new clothes holding those Easter baskets from the grocery stores? Now, the grandkid(s) will be getting those things…well, some of the adults, too. :o)

    jodi

    27 Apr 2004 at 110pm


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