Wednesday

There’s a major difference in co-workers’ reactions, now that we’re in the last week, when they ask “When is your due date again?” and I answer “Wednesday” and not, “The 23rd.”  Wednesday is next week.  It would be too late, today, to schedule a meeting on Wednesday.  Wednesday is three business days from now.  I could get back to someone “on Wednesday,” and they wouldn’t feel like I was putting them off for too long.  Wednesday is so much sooner than, “the 23rd.”

If I make to the other side of the weekend still hauling Vegas around in my fleshy watermelon-sized fanny pack, Monday will be my last day, technically, in the office before I’ll start “working from home.”  Which really means, “checking my work email in my gym shorts.”  I’ll be delighted to finally rid myself of the constant drive-by questioning.  Yes, we’re ready, and excited.  No, I’m not eating eggplant yet.  Yes, we know the first two weeks will be hard.  Yes, being a sleepless zombie at home with a screaming infant will always be better than being at work on a slow day.  Hell, labor seems like a real treat compared to some meetings I have to attend.  The new parents are SO VERY EXCITED for us.  The parents of two or more kids, older in the age range, warn us of the AWFULNESS that is coming.  Sleep now when you can!  Run for your liiiiivvveeessss!

Is having a baby like getting a new laptop?  For the first few years, when it’s the newest model, has the most memory and hard drive, it’s fucking awesome.  But as soon as it gets all scratched up, covered in coffee spills, starts crashing, and everything else on the market is so much better, you think it’s the biggest piece of shit around, so you feel compelled to tell people not to ever buy one?  Or at least, compelled to warn them that it’ll eventually suck?

Regardless, Wednesday is coming.  My sister, via text, has picked the 22nd as the day.  Vegas’ going home outfit has been identified and laundered, and per some nutty suggestion on the internet, we’re sleeping with it in the bed with us so that it will pick up our “scent” so that the dog (yes, the dog) will recognize the baby as one of us when we bring him home.  Us, as in, a pack member.  We’re those people.

Advertisements

Posted on June 18, 2010, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. And if you can (we couldn’t, due to our circumstances, both of the hospital’s location and that J doesn’t drive), bring in some of the baby’s stuff a while before the baby, since the baby (and the hospital) will have a different smell even than you guys.

    (So close!)

  2. Actually, we might try that scent thing with the cats. Seriously, we’re the people who show the cats our ultrasound picture. (Not that we expect them to have any idea what it is, you understand. We’re not *that* crazy.)

    And the laptop idea is interesting. Maybe it’s that the new parents are eager to have someone else going through the same things, whereas the more established parents feel that older kids are better? Like you’re loyal to the age you have, and thus feel the need to badmouth younger children/babies? Or maybe they’re just reminding themselves why they shouldn’t really go out and pick up one of the latest model? I dunno, I’m trying to be optimistic.

  3. I’ve been wondering at just what age of their children it is parents go from ecstatic about having a kid to why is thing little thing bothering me all the time. And is that age any later for those of us who have to go through so much more to have a child at all.

    We’re doing the cloth diaper route and several people have made comments about much work it is. I’m like well, yeah, the whole baby thing is work, but I get to stay home with him, and if I can’t manage some extra laundry then I’m pretty lame.

    We’re waiting to see if reality kicks us in the ass, and are very grateful we don’t have too many people in real life giving us all the negative vibes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: