Week 1

First off, I need to fend off consistent rumors thrust upon me by people trying to cast aspersion on my name. No, I did not decide to have a child in order to give me consistent blogging material. Granted, I actually found out officially on the day of my thirtieth birthday just like I planned, but no, it wasn't on purpose.

Secondly, according to S our initial conversation went like this:

S: I think we're pregnant.

M: We have to go to Spain.

Yes, I may have said that, but I can't be blamed, it was in the heat of the moment, I was just wanting to make sure that the little urchin was a world traveler. You know, it's all about the little one. Anyhow, even if I did say that, it was actually the second time she had handed me a positive pregnancy test.

S: Does this look like a second line?

M: I'm trying to sleep.

S: Does it?

M: I can't tell. The second line is faint.

S: I think I'm pregnant.

M: You're the girl who cried pregnancy. Every month it's, oh, I'm two days late, I think I might be having a baby. I'll believe it when your stomach gets to be the size of a watermelon.

S: I think I might be pregnant.

This took place at a cabin in West Virginia, and I was sleepy. Though, in my defense, she is the girl who cried pregnancy. Lord only knows if we had had kids every time she thought she might be pregnant we'd be well on our way to nine.

I had this great idea where I was going to blog about this whole impending doom (that's just the cute little name I call our strange looking creature. I think kids like nicknames) based on how big it was according to the week. Unfortunately, no web sites tell you how large your impending doom is at one week. So, let's go with a molecule, sliced thinly, and buttered. I'm certain that helps.

Day 1: I received the news while relieving myself in the bathroom. It wasn't quite as great as in the movies.

Apparently I did claim that we needed to go to Spain. In my defense, we have yet to go to Spain. Ergo; the comment was warranted.Listen, one day our child is going to learn to crawl towards us but Spain, besides the occasional plate tectonic movements isn't going to come to us. I'm just saying.

Days until it took me to make an ill-advised joke about falling down the stairs: 0.

It's funny how your life can change in a split second and yet remain entirely the same. Moments like that tend to be and far between, and a solid mix of wonderful and terrible things. I'd call this a wonderful thing, but what the hell do I know about having kids? Nothing. All I know is that I look forward to that moment in the hospital when they bring the child to me in the waiting room where I'll have been smoking cigars in a bowlers hat and trading stories with other newsmen, and I can give it a good strong name.