It’s not easy being green.

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Being knocked up and hormonal is kind of hilarious when you can step outside yourself and take a moment to see the absurdity of the things that freak you out.   A couple of weeks ago, Scott and I were making dinner (mostly he was) and laughing together, and all of a sudden I burst into tears.   He looked shocked for a second, and when he asked me what was wrong, all I could muster was “I’m gonna miss you.”   That occurrence has become more and more regular these days.   As excited as I am about the arrival of our baby, Scott and I have been Scott and I for almost eleven years already, and there’s a big part of me that is really going to miss just being able to hang out and be awesome with my best buddy all the time.   That’s part one.

Part two is this:  I’m gonna be totally jealous of this little one, who is sure to be a Daddy’s girl.   I know I was.   I love my Pop, even to this day I actually enjoy hanging out with my Dad – something that never faded, even during my angst-ridden teen terror years.    When I was a kid, I wanted to hang out wherever he was, and as I’ve gotten older I know I can always call my Pops to sort out whatever’s plaguing me, or just shoot the shit.    Inevitably, Scott is going to be the coolest Dad in town (have I mentioned how much I like that guy?) and I can’t stop thinking that this little girl is going to love him so much more than me, and I just don’t know how I’m going to feel about being the third wheel.   Sure, I’ll get my few years of Mommy-time, but one day she’s going to grow into a teenager, and at that point, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I can do to keep her from pinning her every. last. grievance on me.   Thick ankles?   Ef you, Mom.   Dad says I have a curfew?   Ef you, Mom.   “But I want to dye my hair purple!”   Ef you, Mom.    Ef you Mom, Ef you Mom, Ef you Mom.   It’s like a mantra from the future that shakes me to my very core.    (See?   I told you I was hormonal.)     And then I see Scott delicately folding his baby’s clothes and organizing them by size tag in her drawers, and I burst into tears again, because it’s just so damn cute, and I can’t wait to watch him be a Dad to our little girl.    Someone get this kid out of me already.   I am way too neurotic for this shit.

Oooh!   And speaking of Daddy’s-To-Be…   One of the unexpected [pleasant!] side effects of Pregnancy has been getting to know the wonderful and complicated world of baby-blogs.   There are some really great ones out there, and following the adventures of other parents-t0-be as they brave the same terrifying road we’re currently hurtling down at bone crushing speeds has become a favorite past time of mine.    Check out Kenny @ Smonk You.   He’s a Dad in the making chronicling his wife’s pregnancy, and he’s damn funny.

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