Amid the fallout from the terribleness at the Boston Marathon last week, there's a better than average chance most of you missed my "dropping the mike" reference at the end of last Monday's pre-bombing post regarding the pending parenthood at Chez Viper.
I had this smart-alecky idea of sliding in our pregnancy news at the end of that post and then doing a bigger reveal the next day. Well, best laid plans, and all that about going astray.
Mrs. Viper and I are extremely excited. She's due in early October, which gives me six more months to totally freak out about having a baby. Everything changes, everybody always says. ZOMG!!1! What does that mean?!?
The prospect of having a child is both invigorating and enervating, but in the aftermath of last week's events I find fearing the kind of world we're bringing him or her (we're not finding out) into and thinking hard on the type of father I want to be and the lessons I want to teach my child.
This is all very normal, I assume.
All these thoughts jump into my head: What if we screw him up? What if she grows up to hate us? What if we can't give him a good life? What if we spoil her too much? What if he becomes a douche bag? What if she turns out to be a True Belieber? What if he turns out to be a terrorist like those kids in Boston? What if she's caught in a terrible tragedy like that?
And then there are the more selfish concerns: How are we going to afford all this? What's going to happen to our marriage? Will Mrs. Viper and I ever go on a date again? What about our sex life? Will having a kid make us want to strangle each other? Will I ever have time to play the banjo or fiddle? I'm never going to run again, am I? I'm going to get really fat, right?
I'm already calling my weight gain "sympathy weight," regardless of the fact that I've been hovering around this heft since before the New Year. Despite running more regularly and trying to eat better, my scale keeps telling me I'm a mere couple pounds from my heaviest.
This is all stupid, I try to tell myself in more rational moments. But, cripes! This going to change everything! To help me cope with this life-changing event, I'm turning to you, dear teammates. In the months ahead, I will post parenting questions for your consideration. Because this is a running blog, the first one will deal with what I can expect on that front.
PENDING FATHERHOOD QUESTION NO. 1: With six months until D-Day and a pregnant wife at home, how much running should I attempt? One last shot at a big race vs. just enough to keep fit or somewhere in between?