Ugly

We have hit the third trimester mark. Now we are counting how many weeks we have left (13) rather than how many weeks we are into pregnancy. I say we- but Kylie is the beautiful one with a basketball jutting from her abdomen. Scout’s little jabs have turned into horse kicks and we know he’s going to have the same powerful soccer player thighs both Ky and I have.

It is getting to the point that I am starting to wonder what he is going to look like. Is he going to have the same potato shaped birthmark on his side that Kylie has? Will he get the small useless crooked pinkies that I got from my Nana? He’ll most likely have a small nose like both Kylie and I unless some random big nose gene intrudes from my family.

I have never been the type of person to fawn over how cute a baby is. Newborns are wrinkly and creepy and look like they have an undercover agenda. I’m told that I will think mine is beautiful no matter what. I’m leery of this and I kinda don’t want this switch to flip in me. I think I’d be okay with thinking it’s not the cutest baby in the world. In fact, is it okay to say that I would even be happy to have an ugly baby?

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! WHOA! Okay, I said that. Now let’s set things straight. First and foremost I want a healthy baby- that is the most important thing. When I say “ugly” I’m not hoping for an ugly baby. I don’t secretly want Kylie to give birth to Sloth from The Goonies.  (I can make that joke because Sloth is not real- no matter how much I thought he was when I was a kid).

sloth

I guess what I’m saying is I’d be perfectly happy with an Ugly Duckling. Of course I wouldn’t want my kid to go through his whole life being a very unfortunate looking person with a small nose and thunder thighs. But as a baby, if he’s not the cutest thing, I would love to see adults meet him for the first time and watch them come up with a lying compliment. “Um, he’s cute….. Where’d you get that onesie?”

I imagine the tone to be similar to that of the person at the bar who asks me to make them something different- what do they say?

“Make me anything you want- something different- anything- I love everything- Make me something YOU would drink.” I then make them something that I like and would love to drink… “Wow… That’s in – ter – est – ing”. “Interesting” is drawn out across thirty seconds while they stare at it and avoid eye contact with me.

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I used to take this very personally. But after a couple years of bartending I now take great joy in this response because it is usually a person who is trying to flaunt their adventurousness to their friends. His/her drink will sit there getting warm while his/her friends finish their round. As I get everyone another drink the adventurous one will point to their lukewarm drink, “This is really good, but I think I’m just not in the mood for it- Can I get a vodka-soda?” 

Wow, that makes me look like a bad bartender but- OH MY! This is my baby blog- sorry- but that was really cathartic. So anyway- that tone- “Um, cute”. I love watching bad liars lie.

I do have some worries though. They usually surface when I look at the local mugshots. Our newspaper posts them online. Here are some of my favorites…

 

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All these guys were babies once. Somehow, some way, they grew up and lost their innocence. They have all done some fucked up shit. This is what scares me- and I don’t even know what about it scares me. I used to just look at these and think nothing of them- it would just remind me that there are some really fucked up people in Missoula County. But now, with a kid on the way, these faces affect me differently. They put me on edge. They make me want to protect Scout from all the other people like them. I want to keep whatever influenced them as far away as possible from my unborn child. I don’t even want him to see these people. This is a brand new feeling inside that I can only describe as some sort of carnal protectiveness. I didn’t even know it was inside me until I saw these mugshots today. It makes me want to hide every single person like this from Scout. It makes me want to protect him from the truth of what some people truly are… ugly.

Boy

So… It’s gonna be a boy. Scout! You’re a boy! We found out on Christmas Eve. Kylie had been carrying around a card with the gender written on it in her purse for a month. Right before we went to sleep on Christmas Eve we sat on the side of the bed holding the envelope in our laps- literally. It was in my lap and then I put it in her lap, “No, you open it.” Then it was back in my lap, “No, you open it.” This went on for a while. Butterflies were attacking our stomachs and our future was going to be that much more definite. If it was a girl, I would one day get to be that dad sharpening chainsaws and knives in the living room when her date came to pick her up. If it was a boy I would get to bring up a little mini-me and we’d dress like twinsies until the day he decided to hate me for a while (adolescence).

I honestly don’t remember who opened the envelope. I just remember opening the card at a lightning speed that almost ripped the fold and then… silence. We were stunned. We were speechless. We looked at each other. We didn’t speak for what seemed like two minutes because we knew whatever we said next we would remember for the rest of our lives… Just kidding, I don’t remember what we said next, or what we talked about for then next hour before we fell asleep. We were just happy. We were content. We now knew we had a boy on the way. Boy!

We slept well that night. Images of sugarplums and- no- I actually don’t remember how I slept that night- I assume fine. The next morning we had to tell Kylie’s parents and brother and sister-in-law. They knew we knew and Kylie and I had not given much thought about how to tell them in a fun way. We probably should have built a giant snow penis outside for them to find but we didn’t, and again, we were in the same situation, I looked at Kylie and said, “You tell them,” she returned the look and say, “No, You tell them”. Again, back and forth for a few tosses and finally I couldn’t handle it and announced, “There’s gonna be another swinging dick in the family!” Not the most poetic revelation christmas morning has ever brought, but it got the point across.

If I remember correctly, upon hearing the news everyone cheered and yelled “Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!” My father-in-law and brother-in-law boosted me onto their shoulders and sang the entire song of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” while carrying me around and around the christmas tree. At least that’s how I’m going to remember it from now on.

But there was some significance to “another swinging dick in the family”. Kylie’s brother (let’s call him “Lee”) and sister-in-law (let’s call her “Alli”) are- Yes I know! It’s hard to believe that the fictitious names I chose could be in the same family in real life –Kylie -Lee -Alli. They rhyme! I know! Gimme a break, I don’t write this, it writes itself.

Anyway, Lee and Alli are pregnant too! And they are having a boy also! And these boys are due within a day of each other! ONE FUCKING DAY! These guys are gonna be like instant brothers or brother cousins or cousin brothers- they’re gonna be close- I mean close to each others hearts and I mean close like local- like less than five miles away.

It all seems relatively crazy. Kylie and I have talked with Lee and Alli on multiple occasions over the last year or two about how cool it would be to have kids around the same time so they can grow up together and be best friends and how we could babysit for one another and this and that and blah blah blah (we really did talk a lot about it). But as far as we knew they were just pipe dreams. Who knew pipe dreams could be serendipitous! (I urge you not to check my usage of “serendipitous”, just go with it, it sounds good)

But that’s all I have to say today. Two new boys in the family in June! It doesn’t even matter who is due first (we are). In fact, that is probably the least important thing to think about now (but we are due one day before them). And when we tell people the good fortune of having cousins due a day apart, we don’t even mention who is due first- although I usually lean in with a wink, give a nudge, and whisper, “We’re due a day ahead.”

😉