Yesterday marked 23-weeks of Mrs. Blackwell's pregnancy. Two identical twin boys are in her tummy waiting to get out. (In the meantime, our ultrasounds show they're spending a lot of time kicking each other.)
Lots of folks ask, "are you ready?"
Since about the 15-week mark my reply has been the same: "Ready? No. Prepared? Yes."
|Proof that one is fit to be a stellar dad.|
I don't know if that's much of a distinction, but it's an answer. We're prepared in the sense that we've got some of our ducks in a row.
We know what we'll need once they get here, and we're on our way to accumulating that stuff. (In no small thanks to the generosity of friends and loved ones.)
We're talking with parents. We're reading about babies and about raising kids. For the love of all that's holy, I attended Daddy Bootcamp and was honorably discharged. So, we're clearly on our way.
- never sleep well again?
- surrender our little world in which most decisions involve me, my wife and no one else?
- no longer drink directly from the container (Kids or no kids, I probably need to grow out of this one.)
- not have time to walk out the door looking like you want to look every day?
- not leave and go for a walk with my wife anytime we feel like it?
- be aware of impressionable ears and refrain from yelling obscenities at the television while watching duke's basketball team? (Probably ought to grow out of this one too but, that likely ain't happening.)
- to never go to the shower or the bathroom in peace?
Am I ready for all this? I don't know. And, utlimately, it really doesn't matter. These babies are coming no matter what.
So, I guess it's a good thing I'm really, really looking forward to them.