Becoming a Dad

It's at least a little funny that right now I am reading a book called Becoming a Dad. It's a slightly Christianese book with a more contemporary spin written by a couple of psychologists. It's a good read, except when they start in with the Find Yourself descriptions (are you a Mr. Nice Guy or a Joe Quarterback? Did your family tell you You Were Loved? Did you Always Get Your Way? etc.) complete with horoscopian predictions of what this will mean in your own parenting style.

I do like the verses they chose to throw in. This one from Deuteronomy 4 reminds me a bit that my whole life up to now does still count for something:

"Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them."

Another translation:
"Just make sure you stay alert. Keep close watch over yourselves. Don't forget anything of what you've seen. Don't let your heart wander off. (I LOVE THAT!) Stay vigilant as long as you live. Teach what you've seen and heard to your children and grandchildren."

I also like that they talk about this whole thing being preparation for a mystery. We really have no idea what the baby will be like, how the birth will go, what he might need, how we will feel.

One thing they talk about a lot that seems unbelievable to me is that new dads often feel left out- that the mom has everything the baby will need. I cannot even IMAGINE doing any single little tiny part of this without J. I would be even more of a crabby wreck, and I don't think I'd even bother trying to hide it. My requirements for housing now absolutely include SHORT commute times, because I am selfish. Some of the time I imagine needing him to do stuff for the kid, but for the most part I want him for me. Me me me me me.

Last night I played for a guy who proposed to his girl at our church- we (string trio) were in the balcony and he had the whole place decked out with candles, stained glass lit and nothing else. They came in and we started Be Thou my Vision while he took her up to the altar and got down on one knee. It was a little like watching a silent film- she even had a cute little flapper-like outfit on. It must have gone well, because they smooched a bit and ran out. Folks at our church like drama, creativity. And, lucky for me, string players.

Here's where I was rudely reminded I am pregnant.

But after that, when J and I were finally driving home we got a little turned around as to where exactly I-5 was. I knew I didn't want to go home through all the little puny towns just south of Portland because I was already exhausted and it was raining hard and I wanted me some cruise control. But of course, we did indeed tour quite extensively through hill and dale, knowing the freeway was RIGHT THERE all along, just past that winery or those Stepfordian developments.

When we finally found a freeway feeder road, J zipped past me (I had missed an increase in the speed limit and was zoning out, which he thought meant I wanted him to lead). Because I am now officially in the ninth month and drunk on hormones, I of course assumed he was annoyed with me for crabbing and for wandering around in the Explorer like a lunatic and started bawling. Nothing purtier than a pregnant lady snuffling along in the slow lane feeling sorry for herself, squeezing all the blood out of the steering wheel and unable to find a comfortable temperature for the heat/AC/heat/AC.

What a dork. Can you see me being somebody's primary caretaker????. Hmph.