Dear Cletus,
This weekend we told family and friends that you were going to be joining us in seven months. Although most mainstream advice says we should wait until the first trimester is over, your dad and I were having a lot of trouble keeping you a secret (he because of his wild enthusiasm about fatherhood; me because I’m a Sagittarius).
This weekend also happened to be your dad’s Birthday Weekend. Before you correct me and advise that birthdays by definition can only last one day, let me tell you something about your dad: like his own father, who has renamed the month of January his Birthday Month, your dad takes his yearly celebrations very seriously. Festivities in prior years have included a limo ride, ridiculously huge amounts of spaghetti that eventually ended up being thrown into the woods for wildlife to consume, and me doing a drunken interpretation of the Thriller dance.
So given that we were going to be spending the Birthday Weekend with both families (one night with my side, one night with his), your dad and I figured it would be a good time to let everyone know about your pending arrival. The news was of course met with excitement. From your dad’s family, we got tears and screams of excitement (as well as your great-grandma being so surprised that she yelled, “No! Wait – I mean yay!”). From my family, we got smiles, congratulations, and a golf clap (don’t worry, that’s a high achievement in my parents' house).
Today, since all of the birthday celebrations were over, we went over to the house of some close friends to watch Sunday football. Incidentally, these friends just had a baby last week, so this was a good opportunity for me to get my feet wet in dealing with infants.
It’s been a while since I’ve been around any babies, so holding baby Jillian today made me remember just how small everybody starts out. It’s crazy to think that while she is so little at just under seven pounds, you are even tinier since apparently right now you are the size of a blueberry (thank you, What To Expect When You’re Expecting). I have to tell you: from what I've been reading, if you and Jilian were entered into a Baby Cuteness contest right now, she would definitely win. Apparently you have indentations instead of eyes and a nose, and stumps for arms and legs (WTEWYE calls them “buds” but you can't fool me - they're stumps). Since Jillian has actual fingers and toes, this puts her way ahead of you. But before you get discouraged, keep in mind you have seven more months to cook. Get cracking on some fingers and a couple dimples, and you should be well on your way to winning some creepy baby beauty pageants someday.
You’re going to get to know Jillian and her older sister Lainie really well, by the way, because her mom and I are BFFs. Not only are going to going to become very familiar with the whole family, you are going to become acutely aware that Jillian's mom, Jessi, is ten times the mom that you have. I’m not trying to solicit sympathy, Cletus – I’m just stating a fact. Jessi does things that I mock to her face but secretly envy, because they just seem so maternal, and she even seems to enjoy doing them. Like making cookies on weekends just because, and putting together goody bags for Lainie's first-grade class at school for her birthday. For the life of me, I can’t understand how anyone would want to do either of these things. It's not just that, either. There are so many other things that seem to come with the parenting territory that just don't sound fun to me, including getting up early on Saturdays in the fall to shiver on the sidelines of soccer games, hosting playdates with a bunch of other people’s kids that you don’t really care about, and attending graduation ceremonies for preschoolers.
You might have figured this out already, Cletus, but I wasn't one of those people who dreamed of having kids when I was in elementary school, and I was never someone who just knew she wanted to have babies someday. When your dad and I drove to dinner on our one-year wedding anniversary, he brought up the idea of having kids sometime soon; in response, I got so overwhelmed that I cried and ruined my eye makeup. The responsibility of taking care of another life seemed so huge that I didn't know if I was up for the challenge. I know a lot of amazing moms, and I see what kind of selfless devotion they give to their kids - could I do the same thing? I wasn't sure, at first. It took a few months of pondering, obsessing, and ultimately deciding that yes, I could do it, for me to get comfortable with the idea of having you. Hopefully I don't screw you up too badly.
Why am I telling you all of this? Call it full disclosure. Nobody's perfect, and you should probably realize that your mom has a lot of flaws. But before you decide to completely disown me, keep in mind that once I saw that positive pregnancy test and after the panic attack had subsided, I got excited. Really excited. So excited, in fact, that I started to think that maybe I could understand why so many parents do all that stuff that doesn't seem so fun at first. If you are one of the kids out on the soccer field, I'm pretty sure I would attend your games (flask in hand if it's chilly out). I could see myself not only making you birthday goody bags, but getting weirdly competive about it (your bags must have only the best crappy dollar-store toys!). I could probably even tolerate attending a graduation ceremony someday, when you and some classmates in tissue-paper caps and gowns stand in front of a sea of parents. If it’s for you, I’m at least 80% sure I would do it. And as you walk across the stage, picking your nose as you transform from a preschooler into a kindergartener, I’ll even give you a golf clap.
Love,
Your soon-to-be Mom
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