Friday, May 25, 2012

Fortuitious Friday: The Ballad of Cranky Mc Crankster the Crank Pot and Soon To Be Father of A Wrinkled Baby Girl

Stress makes me cranky. Well, life, really, makes me cranky as I'm sure you may have deduced from reading my various ramblings whatever period of time you have been reading my blog. Even if it's only been a day or so, you will have deduced that I have a flair for the crank. It's not my 'schtick' designed to attract loads of readers who chuckle knowingly while reading my witty posts, it's a genuine personality trait. I do try to keep it under wraps, but alas, I am mere flesh and the flesh is weak.

As I write this, I am still waiting for New Mouth To Feed to decide that she is finally sick of her Ovarian Bastille and venture forth into the world. Perhaps I should have sent a quest in to her: Collect 10 sections of umbilical cord and deliver them unto the Midwife! You're reward shall be... life! And a purple soother which grants +3 serenity.

For those who are, like me, mathematically deficient, or just can't be arsed to pay attention, this means she is now 11 days late. I remember in school we had a teacher who would throw staplers (yes staplers, not staples) at us when we didn't pay attention. Nothing like a one-pound chunk of mental bouncing off your desk and/or head to get your attention. Yes, it was a different time. I can hear the collective shaking of disbelieving heads either at my advanced age, or that such a time existed. Well, it did, trust me. I remember getting the strap as well so consider yourselves lucky all I can do is write a snarky comment about your lack of attention to my personal life: How VERY DARE YOU you not pay attention!

We snuck a peek on Wednesday (via ultrasound, not surgery or skullduggery) and all is fine. She's just, well, waiting I guess- or extremely smart in knowing (before we did) that the maternity ward is, at the moment, full. Yes, full. There is, literally, no room at the maternity-ward inn in our city. Lol indeed. I guess a lot of people were 'getting busy' in August of last year 'cause the baby's are coming fast and furious now.

It was a very strange experience to see my fully developed daughter while she yet resides in my wife. I have to say, in addition to being a spitting image of me (lucky girl) she simply looks like every other baby I've ever seen. Wrinkled, chubby, and baby-like. I wonder if it makes me a horrible parent (already) that I don't think she's the 'most special-looking thing in the world'. Oh, granted, I'll love, protect, and spoil her for the rest of my life, but right now, well, I'm a bit.... meh. I'm imagining that moment- when she becomes the most beautiful baby in the world- when I suspend all logic and the emotion takes over, will take place when that wrinkled, little human is put into my cranky hands.

Which may be in the parking lot if a bed doesn't free up in the next day or so. In any case, much like an early beta access, and for a limited time only (I hate sharing real life photos on the Internet and only recently made She Who Will Be Named Later promise not to post any on Facebook making me a massive hypocrite), I present New Mouth To Feed, In-Utero. Note the cranky-looking scowl.

Happy Friday Everyone!