oh, wait. no, they’re saying that i need a shower. not to shower.
like people want to host me up a baby shower.
it’s very nice and i’m excited to gather all my peops in one place, but i’m finding it a little overwhelming.
first, i’m not feeling so much on my game these days. double chin and saggy giant bosoms are causing me more anxiety than i thought they would. i’m more self-conscious than i usually allow. and way more self-conscious than i think is gracious considering how hard we fought to get me in this status fatus in the first place. but still, i find myself wondering if my voice is reverberating more when i talk/laugh and i have body envy of tiny pregnant people i know who merely confiscated a basketball under their shirts rather than resembling linebackers.
so there’s that. and then there’s the fact that these parties always sort of give me the willies. something about too much cutesy nonsense or something. too much fluff, not enough booze.
then there’s the whole registry shopping, which gives me palpatations. the baby industry of fear we’ve discussed is hard to avoid. if i get this boppy instead of this one, am i choosing to deliberately kill my child? is there bpa in this bottle? is there rocket fuel in this pacifier?
i mean, shit.
and what style of stuff do we want for our kid? are we these parents or these ones? is our child this kind of mini person or this one? good lawd, i don’t know.
and then there’s the whole jinx factor. big party. lots of gifts. thank you cards. house full of baby gear. still no baby in the flesh breathing real air. still potential dangers ahead. gulp. just makes me nervous.
and then there’s the unsolicted advice i’m sure to get. and the skeptical looks when we discuss our decisions about baby stuff, baby names, etc. by the way, funny article on that subject today.
i mean, i’m pretty good when i’m getting wacky takes on child-rearing from folks one-on-one, but what about a whole group of people coming at me? i should trust my family and friends more, i know. but despite good intentions it seems like people cannot help themselves. if they found that swaddling their baby and floating them in the bathtub moses-style was a sure cure for hiccups, they’ll let me know. or that breast milk fixes everything from a runny noses to a broken toilet…
or, if you don’t approve of my baby names (Henry/Anna), God help me, keep it to your own self! i could, obviously, give two shits about what you think, or i would have run them past you in the first place. i should just make up new ones to get a reaction. “well, if it’s a girl, we’ll call her Princess Gloria Excelsis. and if it’s a boy, he’ll be George Emilio Hamilton II.”
i’m getting all worked up over nothing. i’m sure it will be fine. my friends and family are wonderful people and will surely be normal-ish. right? RIGHT?