I recently informed the world via blog that my wife and I were expecting another child. I like to save my family’s most intimate moments for the internet so that all might share in the experience: friends, family, friends of friends, enemies of friends, childhood acquaintances of friend’s friends—you know, everyone.
So anyway, our midwife came to the house for our first checkup.
*Audience whispers: Did he just say midwife? I think he did.*
Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that we keep it au naturel up in these parts? Now, save your judgment for someone who cares. It’s not like I’m some kind of hippie or anything. So what if I like recycling, organic eating, farmers markets, occasional bathing … (vision begins to blur, getting lightheaded) … voting liberal, driving a hybrid, donating to NPR, drinking IPAs … (loosens collar, wipe sweat from brow) … canvas grocery bags, alternative medicine, weed and weed products, (loss of consciousness setting in) dogs, hugging, Frisbees …
I am a total hippie.
When did this happen? Could this be true? I hate hippies. I mean I love hippies. I love to make fun of hippies. I am so confused. What’s happening?
(Breaking down into puddle of tears. Dropping to knees. Raising fists to sky. Why God? Why me?)
And then I remember—I have gold teeth. I’m the most cold-blooded dancer in Oakland. I hate chicks with hairy armpits and legs. Pachouli registers a zero on the boner meter. I’m not a hippie. Phew! (Wiping sweat from brow.)
But as I said previously, we’re having a home birth. Our midwife came for her first appointment today. Up until this point, Lucy had no idea about Marie’s pregnancy, and we weren’t totally sure how we were going to explain things to her. Well, our midwife certainly stepped up to bat.
Midwife (pulling out a baby doll): Lucy, can I show you something? This is a tiny little baby. You used to be that small!
Midwife (pulling out a sock): And do you know what this is? This is a uterus.
Lucy: That’s a sock.
Midwife (putting tiny baby in uterus sock): And this is where babies grow, inside of Mama’s belly. You want to know something? Your mommy has a baby in her belly too.
Lucy to Marie: Let me see.
Awkward pause, slight panic … but the midwife just blows right past it.
Midwife: And when the baby gets big enough, I’m going to come over to help get it out!
Oh God—please don’t let her ask from where. PLEASE DON’T LET HER ASK FROM WHERE.
Lucy: From where?
Me (loudly): STORY TIME! Let’s go read a story. Or maybe even eat some chocolate. You want CHOCOLATE Lucy? Huh? Chocolate?
Me (bordering on hysterical): And do you know where chocolate comes from? The snack drawer! <Singing and marching away> Let’s go out to the kitchen. Let’s go out to the kitchen. Let’s go out to the kitchen, and have ourselves a snack!
So now Lucy think that babies grow in socks inside Mama’s belly. Weird? Maybe. But frankly, I think it’s going to make my life a lot easier. So much easier, in fact, that I put together a short list of other lies I intend to use to my benefit.
1. When boys play with their penises, puppies die. Don’t encourage them.
Like I said, short list.
-The Big Avocado