Before we go any further I have some news...
It's always important to wait a little while before making an important announcement publicly like this. You have to get through the early stages of it all before being confident that all signs point to the same thing and you get over the difficult humps first. Add it's always good to allow a little time for things to gestate. But I feel that now is a good an appropraite time to let you all know about it now. Yes that's right - I'm pregnant. At least that seems to be a common charge leveled at me over the last few days. Three different people have asked if I/my wife and I are pregnant. Two of those people did so purely because I mentioned that I want a cheese and onion pastie. But with the added information that, a) I don't eat gluten (so the pastry is a No No) and b) I don't actually like cheese and onion pasties. Mostly the feeling comes from wanting what I cannot have. Also earlier this week someone asked me joking if my wife was pregnant after I posted a not-very-funny photo on Facebook of me holding a pre-natal workout DVD case and looking at it lustfully - as if it were a cheese and onion pastie.
Of course nobody would be asking this question if I wasn't as thin as I am. Or my wife for that matter - she doesn't even look like she's ever given birth to anyone (if I hadn't been there to watch it all I may be suspicious myself). For myself the weight loss thing had come to a head. First up my wife told me that I started to feel too thin. Whatever that means. I mean I look pretty good. But all that running I've been doing has pretty much erased any fat on my body. Leading to my wife referring to me offhand as, "spindly" - and I don't think she meant that in a sexy way. But I feel sexy....
Secondly I had to go out again and buy new trousers. Which crosses my threshold for cheapness because I'd already hit a point where nothing I own fitted me any more. So having to do it again before the Summer is up irritates the amount of pride I have in how cheap I am. And lastly the final problem that emerged was that the principle source of all my nutritional content - coffee and apples (ie - Arsehole Fuel) - was starting to not work out so well. Most of the apples I've bought lately aren't very good. And I had the combined counter-intuitive factor of drinking more coffee than had been usual lately and thinking it didn't taste very good. Didn't matter which brand of coffee either - it all tasted kind of meh. Oh - and 8 cups of coffee by 2pm can have some effects on mood....
I'd already made a mental agreement with myself to cut out the coffee. I lived blissfully without it before. And I'd pretty much cut out drinking tea simply because there was always coffee on my desk. Then I heard from an online friend that they'd cut out caffeine and were feeling very content for having done so. So I decided yesterday to skip coffee. My wife heard about this a few hours into my day this and smugly warned everyone out loud, "Oh man! Everybody look out! You are going to be AWFUL today!!" Just after lunch my day had gone well. I'd been on a 6 mile run, dug a trench in the back yard, been out to the grocery store, been out to buy a pair of pants, made lunch and played outside with my son for a whole. My wife - as of 1.30pm went to bed barely able to remain conscious. Her day had consisted of 45 minutes of work, some pizza for breakfast, going out to buy leggings and then eating at Applebees. Upon arriving home she feebly announced she was dying from exhaustion. Then she slunk off to bed - right after asking the cracking question, ".....do you think we should have another baby?" Nice work there Trophy Wife.
Even my kids have been talking about babies. For almost a year my daughter has done this thing where - once we arrive home in the car - she would run into the house ahead of us so she could answer the door and pretend that we were visiting her house. Disturbingly she would normally phrase the whole visit around the notion that her real parents had been violently killed (either by smoking or killed off in a story that sounded like an episode of Bosnian ethnic cleansing). And now she and her sidekick lived alone in the house as Superheroes. It was all quite a bit like the why-Bruce-Wayne-became-Batman-story. Which is odd because she would have no idea who that is.
This past week though my daughter has twisted this game and decided that her and her brother now live in the backyard (by the swings). So when we are playing outside and I inevitably am sent inside to get a snack/water/something I'll return and she'll introduce herself with, "...Oh do you live in that big house? My sidekick/brother and I live here in the backyard. Would you like to sit with us and have a picnic?" So she's gone from being a Bosnian refugee to a gypsy. She went through this storyline yesterday over dinner. She noted that she and her brother would stay with us for awhile, and that we shouldn't become alarmed if they crawl into our bed at night to snuggle up. When her mother protested that it seemed a little odd for strange backyard Superheroes to sleep in her bed my daughter let the mask slip and yelled, "We're your babies really Mommy!" And to prove it she pointed out that she, "came out of your belly."
I tried to fish for my daughter to say something very amusing about where babies come from. This is because she's been pretty good with silly statements lately. I didn't get her to bite. Which is a shame because these past few days she's managed -:
- Informing me with the utmost urgency this week that whatever happens I must promise not to pee on an elephant.
- Getting it wrong all day long on Friday by declaring that her brother has to, "learn to stand, peeing up." Which she also helpfully told the librarian.
- Asking various people, "do you want to see my shot holes?" any time we were out in public at the end of this last week. She was innocently referring to getting immunizations and being giddily proud of the colorful BandAids she had on the outside of each thigh. Except what would happen is she'd mention her "shot holes" to the grocery store cashier/librarian/town clerk/anyone and then drop her pants around her ankles. The disturbed onlookers often had no idea what on earth was going on. Especially when they saw her father imploring her to please stop doing that, and for her to reply irritated, "I'm just showing that lady my holes Daddy. That's all."
- Teaching her brother the nursery rhyme Ring Around The Rosie. Except with the opening line of, "Round and round your whoopsie..." Which he thinks is fantastic and has repeated often.
Lastly I'm struggling with a common problem. That being that my kids think something is amazing - whereas I know it's awful. That being the Thomas and The Magic Railroad DVD we borrowed from the library. It is obviously a terrible movie that seems tenuously linked to the actual Thomas franchise. And yet my daughter (n particular) thinks it is wonderful. Not an unfilled moment has passed these past few days without her enthusiastically recounting her favorite parts of it to either her mother or I. That is when she isn't asking if she can't please please please watch it again. Now I am aware of that phenomenon of movie critics outright panning any movie that comes out in the Romance Comedy genre aimed at women as brainless, useless pish (guff like Maid In Manhattan comes to mind). And that this doesn't jive with the fact that millions of women adore many of those same movies all the same. Which only seems to annoy critics even more as they point out that popularity doesn't have anything to do with quality and that just because people like it doesn't mean it is actually a good movie. And that if the movie is actually good (say Four Weddings or Love Actually) then it - by definition - isn't a Rom-Com at all.
With that in mind I tried to accept that maybe it is a good movie and that I (and anyone over the age of 12) just think it's cack. But that's an absurd view of the world. Because of course that movie is shit. And what do my kids know anyway? They think Tootsie Rolls are tasty. And the diabetic candy the lady at the thrift store gives them is good (imagine licking an aspartame-dipped cotton-bud and you're getting close). My daughter thinks half the outfits she puts on are astoundingly pretty. Even when they patently don't even fit her and involve color and pattern clashes so jarring that they cause epileptic seizures in others. Both of my kids think the food at Friendly's is good. Despite having eaten at Dunkin' Donuts and McDonalds they still want to go back there. My son thinks it's sensible to wear a wool hat when it's 90 degrees out. And both of them have expressed a desire - at one point or another - to watch the show Barney, even though that is clearly one of the worst children's shows ever committed to tape. They haven't even mentioned that Barney sounds both dangerously simple and borderline psychotic.
So their opinion on whether that Thomas movie is good or not isn't really the point I guess. In fact it doesn't even have to be good - they just like watching it. It has already shown me that me openly deriding it as appalling has led my daughter to even more firmly declare it to be the best thing she's ever seen ever ever. So she may be five years old but she's got the teenager-rebellion down pat already. All of which means I shall have to start declaring other things that are clearly ace as awful, just so she'll automatically cling to them in opposition. I think I'll start by saying how having babies when you're a teenager is great because then you're both closer in age and have more things in common. That should drive her to do the opposite.
Nothing could possibly go wrong!