Welfareloser's Blog

to my ob/gyn appointment. now, call me stupid, but i had not mentioned yet that heathen #4 was on the way. i was basically waiting for evilgremlin to ask me why i was so damned fat. actually, i was really waiting to find out if it was a boy or girl, mostly because, if we told EG we didn’t yet know which it was, that uncertainty would probably be enough for him to deduce that there was some CHOICE in the matter. he would then demand a boy (i think… no tellin with him, really) and be really pissed off if and when we later told him it was a girl, instead.

so the nurse whipped out the blood pressure cuff. EG narrated in his usual drone while the twits watched with great interest… any contraption that makes noise, wraps around body parts, and has a dial with lots of numbers has massive potential for nefarious applications, and they were taking mental notes on how to operate it. they started to lose interest when she whipped out the doppler-heartbeat-listener thingy, until she finally tracked down the heartbeat, and EG asked what that noise was.

nurse: that’s the baby’s heartbeat.

EG: baby? MOM! how could you guys even go and make another baby when three boys is enough?!?!?

the twits immediately picked themselves up off the floor, where they had been busy rolling playdoh into penises and/or giraffes, and two little wide-eyed heads popped up over the exam table.

DQ: baby?
SM: baby?
DQ: where?
SM: what baby?

they’re staring intently at the swishy-sounding box, trying to figure out what, exactly, it has to do with this supposed baby that their big brother is so riled up about.

EG: MOM! when i said we wanted another brother you said you weren’t going to have any more! you were WRONG! how did you guys screw this up? isn’t dad supposed to be a doctor?

me: dude, sometimes i’m just not in charge.

EG: like at the doctor’s office?

me: yeah.

EG: oh. *pause* but MOM! you were at HOME when you said you weren’t going to have any more babies!

me: yep, well…

at this point, the ob gyn walks in, laughing almost as hard as the nurse and i were.

ob: hi, evilgremlin! how are you?

EG: well, my mom’s trying to fill up our family! and that baby broke her belt, too.

me: nooooo, not yet. that’s just how you take the belt off and put it back on, see? that’s how it opens.

EG: oh. so it’s going to break your belt later?

me: well, maybe.

EG: you mean when you get fat, or when it comes out and starts breaking stuff?

me: both.

EG: when is it coming out?

ob: february. it’ll be a cold day with snow when this baby comes home with you.

EG: so you have to stay here until the baby comes out?

me: no. we’re going home in a few minutes.

EG: okay. but don’t you forget to come back to the doctor when it’s time for that baby to come out of your tummy! you have to have a doctor do that, remember?

after the shock wore off, EG went total medieval mother hen on me, telling me to be careful, to not let the twits use their elbows in my belly for leverage to get into my lap, and to write the due date on the calendar so i wouldn’t forget to go to the doctor. then he wandered around listing off all the things we would need and wondering where we’d put them.

it hasn’t occured to him yet to ask where this baby is going to sleep. i’m going to tell him “your room, dude.”

so i told my best friend nodamnedsense about the appointment on the phone today, and he had this to say over email later:

I sure hope that you get a baby girl. It will be a source of constant fascination for the rest of the brood. Lord, can you imagine Spazmonkey’s homicidal, chest-pounding tendencies channelled towards protecting a baby sister? Imagine Dramaqueen’s, for that matter. You’ll probably have to leave the rest of the kids with a sitter when you take shorty #4 to the pediatrician.

this last comment is in reference to the first time i took the twits to get a bunch of shots… three-year-old evilgremlin got into a physical altercation with the nurse, screaming “YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GIVE THE BROTHERS ANY FUCKING OWIES! DON’T TOUCH THEM!”