Heather just passed the thirty-week mark today, June 2, 2010. The fact that I haven’t even started to convert the office into a nursery yet might describe how surreal this feels to me. I remember the first ultrasound when Ivy looked like a little pinto bean with branches. The next ultrasound produced images that revealed the beginnings of skeletal structure, frog legs, and a big belly. And then we found out that she was a girl. No weiner to be found.
These days, there is a hyper little body of life kicking around inside Heather’s belly. I put my hand on her skin to feel movement. I imagine that Ivy is like me as she tries to find the most comfortable position to sleep within her little cocoon. If it were me in there, I’d stick my face up against mom’s belly to freak out whoever might be looking at me from the outside. But that’s just my humor. Ivy is due August 11th. I needed nine months to prepare myself for the change that is coming. This is what I have constructed within the limitations of my brain. All of these actions are subject to change based on the natural direction of said child.
What type of music am I going to play for her when she arrives? If I sit her in front of AC/DC’s “Let There Be Rock” record will she turn into a biker chick? What if I play her Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” record? Will she turn into Lisa Simpson? So what is the balance? What is a good medium? After much consideration, I have determined that she will be subjected to the following records: Journey “Escape,” Jimmy Eat World’s “Clarity,” Sigur Ros’ “Ágætis byrjun,” both of Matthew Pryor’s Terrible Twos records, Evan Robinson’s work with War Stories and definitely Gary Shiebler’s work. Maybe even Snoopy and the Red Barron if I can find it on 7 inch. I figure that’s a good start and a good mix.
Heather and I pray everyday about life after the baby. I would love nothing more then for Heather to be a stay at home mom. No, that doesn’t mean, “man go to work, woman stay home to clean, cook, raise child, and be man slave.” It means that I would be comforted by the fact that we are rearing our own child. We want to be the example to our child. I always fear that she will be confused about who is who. And “why do I get into trouble when I do this with them but not when I do this with them?” Or “why do they let me watch TV all day but mom and dad won’t?” God will steer us in the right direction. We know everything will be ok. It’s just one of the things I think about.
Our child will know what a book is. She will know how to read it. Whether she likes to read as she grows older is her choice, but at least she will have read a novel. Our child will not own a portable game player, nor will a game player exist in the house. She will know what it is like to run around outside at the playground. She will know what it is like to skin her knees, to get dirty, and to hit a boy in the face if she likes him. And if a little boy tries to kiss her she will kick him in the balls and get into trouble just like we did in the old days. She will not sit in front of the television set all day, but she will be taken to the theatre on special occasions. How can one deprive a child of such an amazing experience? I still remember my mom and dad walking me down the aisle of the theatre as the opening credits for “Empire Strikes Back” rolled across the screen. It was larger then life to me. It was 1980 and I was only two years old. I still remember.
Ultimately, Ivy will pick her final resting place in every relevant category. I will support her in any natural direction she chooses to pursue with the exception of crime. You might think I am contradicting myself if you parallel the above statement and all the rules I have set which can be seen above. This isn’t true however. The fact that I am playing good music for her simply means that I want to introduce her to good music. If she ever fell in love with the sounds of Justin Bieber, Clay Aiken, DC Talk, Audio Adrenalin, or Beyonce, I don’t know how I’d be able to carry on in this world. It’s not even an attempt to get her to pick up an instrument. I just want her to be able to decipher garbage from art.
I’ve only skimmed the surface of a few of the things that run through my mind. But I guess that’s what parenting is all about. It’s a whole new adventure. And I feel like I am ready. I’ll start by moving the office into the guest bedroom like I have been meaning to do. 95% because I’m ready to, and 5% because Heather will kill me (literally) if I put it off any longer.
Steven!
