Well sports fans, we’re at the 34-week mark, a time when—according to an app that actually IS our primary caregiver—my child is “the size of a small watermelon! It can open its creepy alien eyes, its pooping regularly into my wife’s stomach, and it can hear when I scream obscenities at the World Cup match I’m watching!”
It is cause for joyous celebration for sure, and for now, I’m still comfortable drinking a six-pack and then some (gotta start thinking about her going into labor at 3am while I’m drunk, though) and she is regularly eating small castles fashioned from marshmallows and ice cream.
BEHOLD, THE MAJESTY OF CHILDBIRTH.
Anyway, since this is the Internet, and we’re not immune from ridiculous Internet tropes, I thought this might be a decent week to answer some questions from my totally fictitious mailbag.
Let’s get it on.
Ben from Pasadena writes:
Hey, man. I’ll be a first time father in January. We just found out she was pregnant and now I want to like, cater to her every whim. Is this normal? Should I become a totally spineless pussy-cunt? Thanks in advance.
Yes. You should make every effort to do everything she wants. It’s not that the baby won’t be born if you don’t—it will, I promise. It’s that you’re confined in a small space with a large, aggressive, hormonal woman for the next several months. She can make your life a living hell should she so choose. So if she’s mad that you only bought regular Oreos on your last trip to the market and goddamnit she meant for you to buy Double Stuft motherfucker, then you’d better go get those Double Stuft.
(Okay, to be fair, my wife hasn’t ONCE asked me to go buy her something ridiculous and sugary late at night. Nor have I had to ask that McDonald’s create some unholy hybrid using both crispy chicken and quarter pound hamburger patties, nor have I had to shave her legs or express her anal glands or whatever other horror stories you might hear about. That said, I promise that you’ll WANT to bring up the laundry from downstairs and get her ice water and whatever else; she’s having your fucking child, Ben.)
Pablo from Westchester writes:
Are you scared to have a kid? Man, I’m scared to have a kid though.
Well, I’M not having the kid. It’s my wife who has to exert all of her energy and tear all of her interior linings rocketing a gut monster from her vag, ripping up her pleasure tunnel in the process.
I just have to stand there like an asshole playing make-believe, wearing pretend scrubs before walking into the waiting room to shout “IT’S A GIRL AND YOU ALL ALREADY KNEW THAT AND SHE’S NOT MISSHAPEN, SO THAT’S COOL!”
So, no. No I’m not scared. Ask me again in a few months when we check our monthly budget after buying diapers and smashed peas and baby-ointment and we’ve started a college fund for only $25 a month that will maybe get her into ITT Tech in 18 years and HOLY SHIT KIDS ARE SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE IF I GET STRUCK BY LIGHTNING TOMORROW SHE’D BE SO MUCH BETTER OFF.
Scort in Waukegan writes:
Hey, Brandon. I really like your column because it speaks to me as someone who is expecting his first child. Anyway, I was wondering what you’re looking forward to about being a dad? I mean, lots of people are ready to tell you all of the bad things—the money and the lack of sleep and the lack of free time—but there’s gotta be some good things, right?
I couldn’t agree more. You’re absolutely right. Since the proclamation of my expectant fatherhood, most of what I’ve heard is, “ohhhhhh, boy. Did you MEAN to do this? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s great. But if you liked sleep, you can shove that right up your ass. And money? HA! What in the hell is MONEY, dude? I had some money once… and then LITTLE AIDEN FUCKING INGESTED SOME PRECARIOUSLY PLACED RAT POISON.” But of course they follow all of this crazy bullshit up with the statement, “but it’s the greatest thing that’ll ever happen to you!!”
So what AM I looking forward to? I’ll tell you.
1) Instant sick days. You can’t argue with a guy whose small child is vomiting profusely or fell out of a tree and hurt its spine. I mean, nobody will rightfully argue with, “Nathanial has a severe butt infection; I simply won’t be able to come in and spreadsheet today.”
2) This also works for outings you don’t really care about. I mean, does your sister-in-law REALLY want your kid having a diarrhea in the middle of her cousin Kaitlense’s dance recital? Probably not.
3) Kids say the darndest fucking things. Seriously, I’m not suggesting that you teach your kid to cuss—that’s horrid—but if your child is like my nephew Jameson and calls a “wrench” a “bitch” due to some bizarre, hilarious impediment? And he proudly runs around proclaiming, “I FOUND A BITCH!” while waving a plastic tool and you record it and watch it over and over again? That’s completely okay.
4) Kids are cool. I mean, they’re fun and you can dress them the way that you want and you can style their hair and watch them grow and shape them into really cool little people and you can train them to mow the lawn and fetch you shit and teach them to hate what you hate (kidding!) and you can basically either decide whether this tiny human is going to be a disastrous shit-bag, or bassist for a Talking Heads cover band. Or maybe BOTH! Point being, what a crazy-scary amount of responsibility.
So that’s what I’m looking forward to, mostly: persistent and absolute anxiety.
I hope you found this mailbag useful. Just remember, expectant fathers: very soon, your life will irreversibly change and you will never be the same and I hope you’re happy. Congrats.
Latest posts by Brandon Leftridge (see all)
- New Daddy Chronicles, Part II: Now the Baby is Home – Year One - August 21, 2016
- New Daddy Chronicles, Part I: Here Comes the Baby - May 28, 2015
- Infant Care Class (aka: A Very Important Saturday That I’ll Never Get Back) - February 13, 2015