Still on baby watch and of course, the most popular question that we get is "Are you ready?" to which, I politely smile and respond no.
We are procrastinators of the highest order, as in the Tom Cruise level of Scientology highest order. I have been packing my bag for the hospital for weeks. Stuff is laid out but not a lot has been put into the actual bag. And it is still blocking the doorway to the room that is supposed to be the baby's room once I put away all of my shoes and clothes and other stuff. And then there is the leaking tub...
My husband, like many men out there, accuses me of nagging whenever I mention that something in the house needs fixing. Or if he does something slightly inconsiderate, like eating an entire bag of chips except for the crumbs. Or if I ask him to do anything during baseball season.
So when the tub in our bathroom began dripping a few weeks ago, I waited to see if he would notice. When I placed a cup under the spigot to catch the dripping water, I expected him to inquire about the cup. After I mentioned that the water was no longer dripping, but flowing he said "Oh yeah". And when I placed the stopper in the tub and it filled with water, he simply pulled out the stopper.
Yes my fellow Busy Black Sisters, unless you are married to Tim "The Toolman" Taylor, it is a crap shoot whether your man will fix anything around the house that requires immediate attention. He will do the grocery shopping when there is nothing in the fridge except for rotten fruit (but he will not discard any of it); he will mow the lawn in anticipation of rain (but he will not pick up any of the broken pots that are littering your front lawn); and he will keep using the same dirty dishtowel on the dishes even though there is a stack of clean ones available because you did not tell him it was well past time to change towels (but at least the dishes are done, he will argue).
Matters of mutual inconvenience tend not to require multiple requests for remedial action. Last fall I insisted on going to the laundromat one night because two loads of wash needed to be dried. Unbeknownst to me our 12-year old dryer had conked out, which I realized only after running the machine twice to dry a load of towels and had another load of clothes waiting. "Why not just hang them up," he asked as I loaded the car. "Because we do not have a clothes line," I responded. "What about hanging them outside on the fence?" Blank stare as I searched for a roll of quarters; agitated sigh as he accompanied me to the laundromat. We sat through about half an hour of America's Home Video, watched as children awake past their bedtimes played hide and seek, and a week later he ordered brand new machines.
But back to our leaking tub as a metaphor of our readiness for parenthood. Yeah we are totally ready...