Any. Day. Now.
Those were the words, nay the proclamation, of the mid-wife on Thursday during her home visit and inspection of She Who Will Be Named Later. I guess it was more of a check-up than an inspection given the fact that my wife isn't a car (though I do like to ride....oops never mind), nor is she a prison cell. Perhaps for New Mouth To Feed (who is due 'any day now') she is a prison cell, and hence her upcoming breakout from that Estrogenical Ovarian Bastille (Family Guy ripoff there).
Once the midwife had departed, and we had waved our friendly good-byes, and after I had finished vomiting with fear, I began to wrap my head around the idea that I would soon be one of those panicky first-time Father types. To be fair, upon the day, I likely won't be all that panicky. I have an oft-practiced ability to remain calm in the face of critical situations. Before and after? A bit of a mess, but on the day of....usually pretty good. The panic will likley come later and persist forever afterwards.
I was looking around the Internet, or as I like to think of it, the all-knowing Seer of wonderment, for some Father blogs to read and didn't find many I was interested in. I have, in fact, read absolutely nothing about being a father, nor about childbirth or child-rearing. I have been watching One Born Every Minute to get some sort of a clue, but most of the things I read, in general, I tend to disagree with anyway, so I figured it would probably be the same in this case. I'm a reasonably intelligent person, I often think to myself, so how hard can this all be to figure out? Famous last words, perhaps, or absolute brilliance! We shall see.
I have decided to approach child-rearing much the same way I have approached taking care of my dogs and before you decide to call Social Services I will clarify that I mean that theoretically not literally. Though I do plan on taking her for walks while strapped to me (baby backpacks for the win) and I will be providing all her food and water I shall not (often) make her eat from bowls placed on the floor. That would be ridiculous as the dogs are sure to cop on and start bullying her for her mashed bananas and then we'd have some problems. Namely my dogs would have runny poop and that's a pain to pick up. No, really, it is.
I shant be turning this blog into some type of parentally-focused gush-fest about how great my baby is. I know, deep down, that my baby will pwn all other babies but I don't need to rub that in everyones face now do I? More importantly this is a gaming blog and though I have challenged everyone I see who is pregnant to a baby-racing tournament (for cash) most of them seem to be care-bear noobs who decline with a nervous laugh. See- already my baby pwns. I'm fairly sure I won't have the urge to blog about my 'adventures in father-land' (that's fatherhood, I guess I should clarify, and not Nazi-Germany) because, quite frankly, I know what type of game this is going to turn out to be and I don't like them. Yes, I mean the dreaded Themepark MMO.
The way I look at it I'm now going to have to do a bunch of repetitive shit (raising a child) in the same old boring setting (my neighborhood) with a bunch of idiots I'd rather not hang out with (other parents). This is, I submit to you, is much the same as questing in the virtual world with other players without the satisfaction of being able to gank and/or grief them when they annoy me. Maybe I'll pursue a Sandbox type of child-rearing where I make my own rules and see how that goes. I could set up a consortium of Goon-Babies and we could leave our strollers out, unatended and when sometime tries to take them? Wham. Fucking ganked, that's what! Now who's everyone's daddy? That's right, baby, this block is null-sec so gear up or f**k off. Hey, what, it's all part of the game, no?
I've already banned pink from my kingdom as a first step. It's amazing how upset people get when they can't buy you what they want for your kid. It's all a moot point anyway because no matter what you do, once they hit school the world ruins them for you. I fully expect pink dora-dora barbie dolls to feature higly on her want-list because the offspring of Mindless-Drone #656655 has provided all of that since birth for their precious baby girl. They also (likely) named her Sinndeee or some such to how quirky and unique they all are.
Ahh well, there's only so much you can do. I suppose they will, in the end, turn out to be whoever they're going to be. God knows I did some stupid shit when I was young and I'm currently hunting down all the photos of me with long hair and leather jackets in an effort to remove them from any potential hypocrisy counter-arguments to my (probable) sound, parental decrees. I remember once finding a picture of my Dad (from the 70's) when I was 15 that forever altered the 'you need to cut your hair' argument we had been having for over a year. Really, Dad, I need to cut my hair? Look at this! Match point Gank. That's right. I ooooownnneeeed my Dad on that one especially since that photo was tucked away with a box of knives with funny black marks one them from some type of burning ritual that (apparently) people in the 70's did with a magical green plant that could also make rope.
Christ, was there a point to this post? Wait, let me scroll up and see.
Oh right. Baby coming. Soon. Excuse me, I have to throw up now and then find some Scotch to sooth my jangled nerves. Good thing it's the weekend.
Happy Friday Everyone!