The Best Birth Control

Oh man, little dude, how’d you like that road trip we took this weekend?

I know you liked the food, because every time your mom had a meal, you started kicking like you were in a Russian musical. No, I don’t know what that simile is supposed to mean, but man, you were knocking about in your mother’s belly like Keith Moon at the Isle of Wight. I know what that one means, and I can even show you once you’re born (even thought you rmom has already ruled out drum sets for any reason and at any time).

Anyway, we went to visit your Cousins Up North™ because their parents said we could use all of their furniture and use it as our own. It’s not that we don’t care about you enough to buy you your own crib and changing table and all that jazz, but I will say we did this because we are cheap. And the fact that there are business chains built up around buying stuff your really don’t need for your baby are far too many. Besides, how will you know the difference between what’s old and what’s new when you don’t even know who Keith Moon is? A crib is a crib, a changing table is a changing table, and you’re going to love it. And if you don’t love it, just keep in mind that I said (and your uncle (and your grandpa) agree(s)): “A bathroom sink is a perfectly fine place to change a diaper. So’s a car hood.”

We were a little worried that we should make a road trip that long (7 hours) this late in your mom’s pregnancy (7 months), but the two of you did just fine. You probably liked all those bathroom breaks and the frequent snacks we had at various eateries. I personally enjoyed th Gigantic Bacon Cheeseburger, and I hope you liked your own cheeseburger and mint shake.

The moment we met up with your cousins, though was the first time your mother and I have been truly afraid of bringing you into this world. Yes, we’ll admit it, we’re selfish, and we’re afraid that you’ll eventually turn into the types of people your cousins are: fit-throwing, hair-pulling, belly-punching, mommyanddaddy-nagging, smiling and cutesy-ing little cherubs.

They’re normal kids!

And that’s what freak us out!

They’re not bad kids by any means, and their parents do an absolutely wonderful job of parenting (trust me on this, little dude, they do a great job with their children; be prepared to hear the following phrases from me in the future: “I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me when you’re screaming,” “Do you want to come in and take a nap in five minutes, or do you want to play for ten minutes and then take a nap?” “You can have your dessert when you eat one more bite of dinner,” “you can eat your dessert when you have one more bite of dinner,” “If you don’t eat your dinner you can only have half as much dessert as your sister gets,” “Get in the car right now,” “If I sing you a song can you go to bed like a big girl?” “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Can you say it slower?” “Wow! Look at your room! It looks wonderful! Who showed you how to clean it up so nicely?”), but man.

I’d been dreading this trip, little dude, because I am a little selfish. We took the trip in the middle of my spring break (I teach kids who are thirteen years older than you, and who act much like your Cousins Up North™), and I’d already spent the first half of my vacation cleaning up your room and painting it. I was worried that the trip would take away form some of my precious “me time.”

Now I realize this trip was, by far, the best thing we could have possibly done. Normally your mom and I skip out into the mountains and spend a few days by a lake talking, drinking coffee, going on hikes and drinking coffee. We may not be able to do that right now, but we did what we could, and I think we made a wise choice. The lakes, the food, and the hikes we know by heart will soon be a major part of your life, but this time around we spent some time with our future. With you. Whether you know it or not.