There is no doubt that Shannon and I are becoming more and more prepared each day for end of this arduous race toward parenthood. This race has tested each of us in our own way and as one would expect, we’ve run the race in very different ways (although if anyone has seen Shannon’s running style, I think you’d agree that such flailing arms and discombobulated legs moving in such a disconjointed way does not qualify as running).
Shannon’s approach has been much more methodical and well prepared. As she says, “She’s been waiting on this day her whole life” and she has wanted nothing more than to have a family. She has not only read every conceivable book out there but could probably fill several volumes herself with all that she knows. She is going to be the perfect Mom as long as the kids don’t ask for running tips or advice.
I myself, on the other hand, have not prepared as well. When the initial stages of family planning started, I eagerly jumped on board. To that end, my family ideals consisted of several of the “four-legged” babies running around the house and no diapers to change. This is not to say that I was wholly unprepared for the eventual but I needed extra time to grow up myself. I think I’ve finally reached that stage in my life and it’s off to the next venture. And well, I guess I can check that off the board and begin to start really preparing myself for the meaning of fatherhood.
I do think I’ve got a good grasp on how to handle impending fatherhood, I mean I’ve spent hours watching Ozzie and Harriet and Leave it to Beaver and things haven’t changed that much since then, right? Ok, ok… I get it, I need more preparation than those two could ever give me but there’s something nice about the nostalgia of that time. The way family time wasn’t forced and time just seemed like it operated much slower. As I see it, family is very important until things get out of control. Let me explain.
The saying is that children are a blessing but let me give you the competing view as I saw it just last week. Anything can be good as long as it is done in moderation but anything in excess can be just the opposite.
While out shopping last weekend, I saw my undoing or the kryptonite to the future of my health. What did we see, you ask? Well, how about a set of triplets being pushed around in some contraption formerly known as a stroller. This monstrosity of a stroller was akin to a city bus and, I kid you not, it had a steering wheel for a handle! At first glance, I thought this was simply a device kindly added by store employees to gather up all the slack jawed and glassy eyed husbands to transport them to their vehicles after a woeful day of being drug around the various children’s stores only to be tasked with handing over the plastic in their wallets.
I believe that I heard a woman shriek as the stroller passed by but I later learned or was told by Shannon that the shriek escaped my lips. I am not a doctor but I do contend that it is physically impossible to make such gasps when the lower mandible is resting between your feet. I immediately fell to my knees and prayed to the Holy One (also known as the Stork who delivers babies to your doorstep) that upon his visit to our house that no such harm will be done. I am half tempted to paint my door with lamb’s blood so that “the evil” will pass by our house and proceed down the block to some other poor soul.
Shannon assures me that no such harm will befall me but in case it does, you have my blessing to put me down like a lame mule! J
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