Don't Think Twice, It's Alright...

Sometimes I wonder if we're not taking this whole "baby thing" seriously enough. I mean, according to us Little Elli will be on an airplane headed for California in a few months, sitting in our laps at Crisler Arena watching Michigan basketball inch towards the NCAA Tourney for the first time this century, and taking in Frampton at Pine Knob next summer. I know Frampton at Pine Knob probably qualifies as child abuse but if you can somehow ignore that small digression from the greater development of this little funster she's potentially got a better social schedule than most adults.

We're typically quick to toss out a disclaimer, things like, "as long as the baby is cool," or, "provided we don't have a freakshow on our hands," (it's mostly June who says the latter) so we feel as though we're being reasonable in our expectations but we're also well aware of our unique ability to brainwash ourselves into thinking everything will be just as we think it will be. At the very least almost-Daddy sports an unmatched skill at optimism and unrealistic expectations...not quite Clark Griswold-ish but not that far off either. So, just a week or so from June's due date, and menacingly mired in the "anytime" stage of this nine month drama, and it's suddenly crossing our minds that maybe just maybe our lives might change more than we think.

ATTENTION: This is not the time nor place to laugh and guffaw, "you think?" 'cause we'll strangle you, I swear, we will. This is, however, the appropriate time to quietly and introspectively consider the notion that perhaps we're more in tune than you think and simultaneously prepared to break stereotypes and the shamefully low expectations of the greater parenting class. (BTW, that sentiment is uttered for Scotty and Roo, and Stu and Anne, and every other parent we know who despises the ridiculous culture of conformity that the parenting culture gobs on them)

So far everything has been nearly perfect (fingers, toes and random other appendages crossed) and we used to joke about how we were either in store for a royal mess as payback for our thus far charmed existences, or we were going to slip through relatively unscathed with a joyous and uncomplicated pregnancy, an angel for an infant, and the easiest go at parenting since the game was invented. Why? Well, because that's just our luck, that's why. Naturally we were hoping for the latter. Who wouldn't? We also liked the idea of everyone we know hating our guts because of it. That particular notion sounded kinda fun too. More recently we're starting to consider that perhaps we'll get stuck somewhere in between, as most do.

Fortunately, the current of optimism in us runs deep and strong and seems nearly impossible for us to not roll with the punches of parenthood and flop face first into the kind of life we're hoping for. Of course, just as has been our habit, we'll float out there the logical disclaimer, "with luck," and waft over a whisper of, "as long as everything goes well," and stay true to our belief that we've got truckloads of horseshoes rammed firmly up our arses and that everything will be just as we hope.

You could argue with us but the effort would be futile. We'll probably just ignore you.

Bobby Dylan said it best, "Don't think twice, it's alright..." and he was bang on. It will be.