expecting
a few minutes ago i decided i needed a dose of perspective, so i counted up the days until cletus the fetus is due to arrive. the number is 45.
originally, the baby countdown was measured in months and weeks, which kept the blessed event remotely abstract. but now that i've let myself think about it in days, a subtle shift in perspective has happened, and i'm hesitant to share it with mrs. she probably has enough perspective already, what with the nightly dancing sessions atop her bladder and the frequent unhelpful questions from strangers, like "so ... are you ready for your life to be over?"
i'm tempted to get frustrated when i have to respond to questions like that. because starting a family is something we've prepared for for a long time. and if my "life" is ending, then a better one is beginning. but it's not fair to hold people accountable for failing at trying to be friendly, even if they are a little awkward. for instance, take this scenario from the other night:
i was at a pub with friends the other night. early on, i found myself sitting across from one friend's sister, and to make conversation, i said, "so [name of friend's sister], what's your story? do you live in rochester?"
"i just moved back." she said.
in most conversations, this is a cue to ask, "where did you move back from?" i took that cue.
"florida," she answered.
i suddenly had the vague sense that [name of friend's sister] might not be too excited about the conversation. but thinking she'd probably stick with it for one or two more questions, i pressed on. it's always good to be friendly.
"cool, what were you doing in florida?"
"my husband was recapturing his childhood," she said.
crap, i thought. no wonder she's not into this conversation. now what? i decided to hope that if i kept going i would find out that there was a happy ending to the story that would save the conversation.
"oh! ha ha ... ha. ... how'd that work out for him?" good lord, i thought. that wasn't good. please say something like he rediscovered his love for you and now you run a successful graphic design company together.
"he's still there. my kids and i moved in with my parents."
dammit! maybe if i make light of the situation, we can laugh it off. "... so ... ... now you're recapturing your childhood, too. ha ha!"
good lord. i'm an ass.
after this comment i watched her face as she decided whether or not to let me off the hook. she laughed, which i suspect was less an act of mercy toward me than it was a decision not to allow her husband to be a part of her night. we moved the conversation to kids, and how much our parents love having their grandkids around. eventually we joined the larger conversation going on around us. [name of friend's sister] was gracious, but we didn't talk much to each other the rest of the night.
moments like these are what come to mind when i think about how to be a better person. and when someone trying to be funny says something like, "i hope you don't plan on sleeping for the next three years," those stories are the tools that will let me answer with a laugh--less an act of mercy toward the unfunny person than a decision not to let my own foolishness and judgmentalism get the best of me.
in 50 days, my life will be over, and i'll be desperate for 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. and if there's any wisdom in me at all, i'll remember the people who predicted this and begin to understand what they were trying to tell me. and hopefully i'll be grateful.
