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David Spates There's a reason my column
Do you want to know why last week's column
was so bad? No, no, we can be honest with one another. It was
bad. You don't have to spare my feelings. I know it was bad. It was bad because for the two days before
I wrote it I was reveling in what I'm fairly certain will be
my last completely child-free weekend -- ever. And when I revel,
I revel. Go big or stay home. Anything worth doing is worth doing
well, I think. So I reveled. And reveled. And reveled a little
more, and by the time Sunday afternoon rolled around and the
bell had tolled for thee to write my column, my mental and physical
well-being were not exactly at their zeniths, if you catch my
drift. That being said, let me add that my extremely
pregnant wife is still about nine weeks away from birthday, so
when I mention that last weekend was my last child-free weekend,
that doesn't mean I anticipate a birth to be forthcoming before
this Saturday. What I do mean, however, is that pretty much
every weekend prior to the last has included some sort of baby-preparation
activity. Either we have been shopping for cribs, burp cloths
and the like or we have been slapping on a new coat of paint
in what will soon be a nursery or we have been performing any
number of other baby-related missions. With nine weeks left in the countdown, I fully
expect every other weekend -- until my son or daughter makes
his or her debut -- to include at least one, but probably more,
child-centered operations. We still have a daylong birthing class
to attend, a crib to assemble, more baby stuff to shop for, finishing
touches on a nursery to complete and a host of other things to
do until the late-April due date arrives. Of course, after the
baby is born, I have no delusions that any other weekend anytime
even remotely in the future will not include child-related activities.
The road ahead is paved with them. These were the thoughts that occupied my mind
as I drove another road last weekend. The road is I-40 leading
to I-81 and into the Commonwealth of Virginia where I soon would
be reunited with college roommates whom I had not laid eyes on
in years. With my wife working all weekend, I took the opportunity
to head out of town and, well, revel. At about Abingdon, I realized that this would
be my last weekend sans child-related obligations. And then I
thought of Shelia, who passed the no-child-related-activity road
sign many, many weeks ago. For me, waiting for my baby to be
born is primarily theoretical. There are many things I know will
come and many things I know I must do, but my day-to-day routine
hasn't changed too significantly and won't until late April.
For my wife, however, she moved out of the theoretical and into
the practical the first time she was doused by a wave of nausea
and began the first-trimester Pukefest. When your body chemistry
forces you hug the porcelain and revisit dinner for 90 days or
so, I'd say reality has taken a firm grip. And how great is it of her to encourage me
to spend a weekend away from home with old friends? You and I
both know plenty of women, pregnant or not, who would give their
husbands or boyfriends the evil eye for even suggesting such
a plan. To you guys who have decided to spend your time with
women like that, I pity you. And vice versa. Now don't get me wrong here. I don't want
it to sound like I'm not looking forward to being a father. Nothing
could be further from the truth. There were many years when Shelia
and I didn't feel like we were ready to have children, but we
are very excited now. I am so delighted at the prospect of being
a dad that I can't even tell you. I'm looking forward to this
like nothing else I can think of. My life is about to undergo
a 900-degree change, and it's a change I will enjoy. That 900-degree change means, however, that
things will never be like they were, and that's what last weekend
was all about - taking one last look at how things were in the
good old days and realizing that even better days were ahead.
Will I see my old college roommates again? Sure I will. We'll meet for reveling weekends here and there, and we'll see each other at football games, but it will never be like it was. That's good. That's as it should be. If things didn't get better as time goes on,
then what's the point in even getting out of bed? I enjoyed myself last weekend. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But that level of enjoyment came with a price, a foul column, and for that I apologize. It was a necessary price to pay, though. It marked a significant milestone. And it only gets better from here. |