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Dead City Anxiety

Gawdamn, 3 months and I'm gonna' be a baby daddy.


It's kinda' weird think of myself as a kids father. I still think of myself as the bass player for the Dead City Rockers.

Just think, that large, stoic, authoritarian figure that was my father will now be me. Except that I'm neither large, nor stoic, and about as intimidating as a ball of yarn. I better grow a mustache.

And my step-sons are not helping preparing me for a baby. They pretty much do everything I tell them to, making me think children are just that way; doing whatever I tell them to.

The other day I told Devin to do 10 push-ups. He did 25. Liam joined in and I didn't even tell him to. I have to trick myself to believe that these aren't normal kids but genetically mutated creatures created by the govenment.

Because with my genes I shouldn't expect the same. I should expect this.

I don't know if I've announced it already but we've decided on'Ian' for a name. My wife being the recovering goth that she is leaves me clueless as to what influenced her to come up with that name. She sold it to me by saying that Ian means John. And since there have been different variations of the name "John" going from my grandfather (Jean) my father (John) and me (Jonathan) I find it only fitting to carry the tradition to my son of bestowing a new variation of the most boring name in existance.

Life without tradition would be as shaky as....A Fiddler on the Roooooooof!

Oh, and here's another fun fact about me. I've never changed a diaper. Never. Not once. Wheeeee!!!

Other fathers have warned me that in a couple of years poop will not be same as what it is now. You will see so much of it you will eventually accept it. Love it. Become one with it.

I got a taste of this Saturday when I was over my dad's who was watching my 2-yaer old niece.

I was getting off the kayak when I heard him calling me over. He told me to stay with Shannon. She pooped herself and it was coming all down her legs. She was trying to follow my dad into the house where he needed to fetch a new diaper. Understandabley, he did not want her inside until he hosed her off.

She was still trailing him when I arrived so I had to pick her up, carefully holding the walking poop machine as far away from me as possible like she was a rabid raccoon. She of course is screaming and went like 8 octives higher once my dad stripped her naked and hosed off her butt with cold water. I'm still holding her dodging the flying pieces of poop shooting off everywhere....


Did I mention I use to be the bass player for the Dead City Rockers?


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