Week 1

So, yeah, maybe I did spend some time that first night trying to come up with a good baby name. I didn't really think I had that sort of crazy in me but there I was wondering what we were going to name our child. Naming is all kinds of important in the Bible, but now it's important to just name your kid something that won't have them getting their ass kicked in the second grade because you thought some sissy name was going to set the world on fire. It's kind of the beginning of the projections and fears that you have about an as yet unformed little being.

Remarkably S was bit more composed.

S: You're kind of freaking out about this aren't you?

M: Am I? That's supposed to be your job.

S: I'm just so happy.

M: I'd be happy if they'd lower college tuition. Is our child going to be happy?

For some reason it struck me on that first evening that it was of vital importance that we start worrying about everything as if that was going to help. The strange thing is that for me, it did. It helped to just start getting the wheels turning, trying to figure out what to do, and I remember S lying in bed next to me, looking sad. And her telling me that though she was happy she was sorry to be leaving behind a period of time in our lives. And I know that everyone tells you that it's amazing, but I have to say that it is sad to leave things behind.

For instance:
In Safeway, world's worst f-ing grocery store. This in comparison to Whole Foods where I normally shop, and not because I'm a snob or have money, we don't. But because I think it's a good thing to spend money on quality food. Diatribe complete. Anyhow, this elderly lady in front of me is kibitzing for upwards of five minutes with the cashier over the price of iceberg lettuce. And I'm standing behind her at my third store stop since getting off work wanting to either throttle her, or just give her the seventy cents to get the hell out of the store.
No problems so far. Besides the whole DFW speech, which pretty much nails this situation on the head with increased complications vis a vis impending doom.

Unfortunately when I started to drive home other cars were on the road. The audacity! As I was vainly trying to get through a red light by shifting lanes sporadically I sort of drifted a little too close to another driver who honked at me. This lead me to zoom through (zoom, really? Is that even a word we still use) the stop light behind her, which in turn, forced me to have to slam on my brakes, spewing groceries all over the back seat. I then proceeded to speed around (yes, I know, today, I was that driver) the car, (who really wasn't at fault at all) and whip back in, which earned me a second horn honk and them a gesture, which must mean I love you in some culture, but could perhaps be misinterpreted here as derogatory.

Point to the story. I can't do that six months from now. I'll have other little folks in the car with me, and I'll be railing at other crazy drivers on the highway as I go twenty five in a forty zone with a baby on board sticker in the rear window. (I'm not getting one of those). Goodbye crazy angry driving. I'll miss you. Signed,

Andrew

In my defense, I don't see why other cars are even allowed on the road when I'm in a hurry. I mean, what's the point of being in a hurry if people are just going to slow you down? Also, if you think that a grocery store may have wronged you on your purchase of lettuce, please ask the people in line behind you to take up a collection rather than arguing over it with the clerk. Time is money.

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Because this song is fun to yell/sing at your wife right before bed until you're asked to stop.