The little abstraction

Here's one for people who have had children. I'm not really certain what to do about the whole naming thing as S has apparently decided that we can't name the thing. Anyhow, as it turns out, for me, calling the child, the thing, or sprout, or whatever, doesn't really do it for me. In fact, it makes me feel disconnected from whatever is growing in her belly. Thus, I've taken to calling our baby girl "the little abstraction." Which, actually makes me feel a little bit closer to her. One could trace this all the way back to creation's beginning, when God didn't just make man, but actually named him Adam as well. And from that point Adam goes on to name all the animals. In the story Adam names all of them. He doesn't look at a koala bear and say, "Wait, Wait, Hold on. That thing is so damn cute, but I can't think of what to name it. Is it a...Ah, who am I kidding. Shuffle along fuzzy thing, I'll give you a name later." Actually this apocryphal story of the not naming of the koala is the reason that they are so vicious despite their cute exterior.

The one problem with my naming dilemma is that it actually adds fuel to the fire that I'm currently trying to put out. Ie, I keep telling S that it is just a name. Meanwhile, my behavior suggests that the inclusion of the word just is a rather egregious mistake. Apparently I think that a name is kind of a big deal, even it it's just "the little abstraction." I wish in the Bible it had a passage that said something like, "Wives, be kind to your husbands. Let them name the children because it will allow them to feel more involved in the pregnancy. You've already got "the little abstraction" growing inside of you. And listen, (still quoting straight from the apocryphal Bible here) I'm as big a fan of women's lib. as the next Paul. Bazing! But giving up the naming rights isn't such a bad thing, in less he names your child something like Dorcas, but then, that's not my fault is it. You should have married a smarter man." End quote here and perhaps the chapter.

Anyhow, the Bible does not include this lengthy quotation about how to properly name a child, though its got a lot of really nice stuff about how many shekels various things cost. Ergo; we'll just have to go about this whole naming thing in the modern way. Slyly suggesting names to one another until the other person breaks down and agrees to a name, then holding them to it despite the fact that they'll almost certainly want to renege within hours.

Because at some point in the next few months before "the little abstraction" arrives, I need to be in a bar and hear this song and remember that I used to be an eighth grader listening to Counting Crows and dreaming of the day that some yellow haired girl would love me.



Fiction
At two thirty in the morning the neighbor’s dog starts barking, and he carries on for hours, this dog, howling at the moonless sky. I think it’s a siren that set him off, though from here it just sounds like the cries of a child. And I walk down the brief hallway to the guest room and check to see if I am right. But there is no child screaming, just an old mattress covered over by a flowery bedspread that my mother gave me years ago. At three forty seven I contemplate lacing some sort of meat product with ammonia and tossing it over the fence. I imagine the dog sniffing the offering at first, measuring its worth before dipping his nose into the raw flesh. And at that point I lose track of the fantasy because it’s now 4:03 A.M. and I can’t think about anything but how tired I’ll be in the morning.

I call in sick to work. On the phone, I make my voice sound like I’ve been chewing gravel and some of it has gotten lodged in the back of my throat.

“You sound terrible,” my boss says.

“You should see the other guy,” I joke, but my boss just hangs up.

The dog has stopped barking or someone has put it down. I have the whole day ahead of me stretching out like some ancient valley in the eyes of an explorer. I watch dust motes settle on the television from the light in the window. I don’t know how Einstein invented things but perhaps it was on days like this. The carpet appears to be beige. The sink is best cleaned with Windex. I can’t remember the last time I had an original thought.