Crap.

In case nobody reads this, we're having a baby.

Soon.

Great, right? You bet your ass. I'm more excited than a mongoloid deviant with two extra dicks in a ripe melon patch. After the shock wore off, of course. There are a few things I forgot, a few I have learned, and a couple that I'm about to tattoo into a motherfucker's scalp.

I digress. We, being the fam and I, are really excited. The number one son is stoked he's going to be a big brother. He's got babysitting class with his younger aunt on Saturday beofre my birthday barbeque. The wifey is glowing and lovely, growing big. She's ready to drop this puppy- being pregnant is kinda sucky for her.

We've gotten some really cool stuff- a onesie that says "Baby Gearhead" and our own dear Jeepy got us pacifiers with skulls and crossbones on them! There's too much to list, but trust me when I say I'll be posting pics come September.

There are some really neat things that have come around since the first time I had a kid. 3-D ultrasounds are so fucking cool, I want to own one. BAD ASS. A word to the wise, though, don't get caught fucking around with one. Doctors get pissy. The birthing suites are nicer, way more accomodating than before. That may be due to the fact I'm not having kids in a ghetto ass hospital with shitty insurance, though. Not being scared shitless about having cash is a nice change. I know life won't be the same, but I won't be god-awful broke this time around either. Of course, WIC vouchers are great for massive amounts of dairy products.

There are a few downsides.

It's summer and she's preggers. BIG preggers. Uncomfy.

Twelve years between kids is great for making you feel old.

The baby is due soon after the ChiLan. Whereas I'm not scared of her going into early labor, I can't justify spending the cash right now and it totally sucks. We had so much fucking fun last year, it's breaking my heart. Boogie, NoGay, Doodi, Emmy, my Profane and 2o4D brethren, gonna fuckin' miss that bunch of nutbags. I did get to live it up for the SoCal lan at least. Maybe next year.

Lamaze class. This one is the ass kicker. This is the eye gouger. The grade A mother fucker.

See, with the first kid in the ghetto, it was 8 hours on a Saturday, knocked it out. This time, in effing yuppieville, I've got to go for FIVE WEEKS. Every Monday night, two hours. NOTHING about Lamaze/birth preparation/never look at your wife's bajingo the same Class has changed. Except that it takes for-damn-ever on the crappiest night of the week.

I can deal with the class. It's agood refresher and it gives the wife all the info that she needs to handle the fears that she may have. It's taught by a wonderful woman who remembered every single name in the class from the first night. She's very impressive, with an accent that I can't place. Maybe Pennsylvania Dutch.

The other students. They are the rub. I am the only guy in there with a child. They are all first time parents. They have NO fucking idea about what is coming. You'd think they'd shut up. listen to the teacher, learn something. No, they must run their mouths, say something stupid at every chance. The mothers are soaking up every iota of info that they can but their douchbag husbands can't shut their mouths. I'm here to support my wife, not entertain everyone with witty banter and snarky comments. I love shooting the shit and cutting jokes. I absolutely love to hear other people laugh at the random shit that comes out of my mouth. But I guess I'm different. These assholes don't need to bow as though it were Sunday Mass being given by the Pope, but for fuck's sake, take it serious! I can see some of the wives getting peeved, but not saying anything. This last Monday was our fourth session. We're almost done with these cockbags and I couldn't be more grateful.

From the first session on, we sat in the same seats, all of us. Last night, we had a motherfucker change up. I nearly told him to move, but fuck it, I'll be an adult. I ended up sitting next to the reason they swapped seats- this asshat husband is a pre-med or med student, and has to run color commentary the whole fucking time the teacher is lecturing. He spurts out answers over her before she gets a chance to finish questions, he whispers way too loud so everyone can tell how learned he is, and he plays games on his cell phone while we are trying to concentrate on the teacher. Then there's the hippy chef. He had to regale us with how he runs a swanky restaurant kitchen, but looking at his dirty fingernails, I'm thinking it is probably a greasy spoon. He's a comedian, failed. HIS wife gets in on the act. The George and retarded Gracie. I want to cut out his tongue, and kick her down the stairs. You can see the other moms plotting on them as well. It's tragic.

The professionals in the room are listening intently, obviously perturbed at these people. They're yuppie cocksuckers too, head to toe in CK and Assercrombie, but at least they are listening. I'm there in Ross bought shorts and a t-shirt from work after another twelve hour workday. These other folks don't get my hate, just my disdain. I can give them a modicum of respect because they are not pandering for attention. I had some serious issues out of the gate, new I wasn't a good fit with the crowd. I just new it was going to be a loooooong five weeks.

The first damn night we had to introduce ourselves. It was around the room, names, doctor due date, and what you did for a living. I don't know wtf our employment had to do with the Lamaze bullshit, but here we go.

Couple 1: (husband) "we're Biff and Muffy, Dr, BLahblahblah, due August yadda and I'm a vp of wealth management services yaddayadda

Couple 2: (husband)We're Sunshine and Moonbeam and yaddayadda and I am a chef at a Chilean/Sushi/beansprout fusion resaturant, come see me for a great meal, haha."

Couple 3: (husband) We're Henderson Umptyforth and Telulah, blahblahblah fine art dealer."

Obviously, the boys are one-upping. I play this game like I'm playing with myself, pro-styley.

Me: "Hi, We're Mass and his trophy wife. We have Dr. so-and-so, due in early September. I sell drugs to children."

Fuck 'em. A pin woulda sounded like a gong.

Ain't Nothin' to a G. One more damn week.