So thanks to the power of Facebook and the fact that I only have 12 friends the word is out; in six months I’ll be a parent. That’s the reason I’ve not been blogging at all lately as not being able to talk about it meant that all the other subjects I might have written about didn’t seem all that important anymore.
It’s difficult to get excited about the iPhone when there’s a life growing in the person sat next to you. That said I went out and invested into Apple’s baby and it’s very cute. Looks just like its daddy.
The range of responses is quite weird. Some are excited, surprised, delighted etc. etc. I’m not sure I believe it yet but the test said Pregnant and the mid-wife is coming to extract bodily fluids this Saturday.
Many people are convinced that I’ll make a good parent. How they know this is beyond me. I’ve always been able to stop a baby crying due to my enormous eyebrows (they are hypnotised by the monsters that sit upon my forehead) but then I’ve given the shit factory back to its primary carer. I’ve changed a nappy or two and chucked half a litre of SMA in the general direction of a baby but that’s it.
In general the people who have said it are the same people who’ve seen me: drunk at parties, laughing at newly processed pictures of naked ugly people on holiday, sleeping off hangovers in the Lab at work, playing football with a beach ball in the office and or making hideously inappropriate comments then laughing at my own comic genius. I’m not sure what part of that is evidence that I’ll somehow raise offspring that are capable of surviving in the big bad world. However, the fact that people have said it makes me think I’ll do all right. My friends and work colleagues are incredibly astute and clever people.
As it stands the collection of cells and DNA is 8 grams and about an inch long according to the day-by-day pregnancy book we have. Every time I read that book I’m filled with fear, trepidation, excitement and fear again in equal measure. Apparently ‘it’ has ears now so I’ll have to cut back on the bad language and start reading Proust and Shakespeare aloud. To be fair I’m more likely to be reading Girls Aloud but still they carry the same cultural weight. Don’t they? Well the ginger one might. I was looking for the sequel to the day-by-day pregnancy book. It’s called ‘What the Fuck Do You Do Now’ by Dr U R Screwed. Sadly even the Yellow Pages couldn’t help me.
So there you go, in six months I’ll be the proud owner of a new human, it comes with a lifetime contract that you can’t unlock and costs you so much money each month you’ll wince. Just like owning an iPhone really. Only there’s no instruction book and you can’t dump it a the Carphone Warehouse should it go wrong.
Shitting myself? Oh yes. Excited? maybe just a bit.
Night
no comment untill now