December Hate Thing, day 20.....

I hate parents of ugly kids who don't know their kid is ugly.  Yeah, that's a little harsh isn't it?  I wonder if I can clean that up a little bit.... Nope.  No I can't.  I want to, but I just can't.  These parents are the worst of all parents.  And I guess in the matter of all fairness, every parent thinks their child is beautiful.  Even if the kid looks like a burlap bag of dead cats that got dragged down 10 miles of rough road, mommy and daddy think their child is beautiful.

I've got to tell you.  Before the wife and I decided to have kids, I saw thousands of ugly ass little kids.  It really made me question the idea of having kids.  I mean, I love how my wife looks and love how she looked back then, but I had a mullet people.  Come on people.  That ain't ever been confused for a good look. (I did look better than anyone else with a mullet, mind you.)  Look.  I was starting to grow hair out of my ears.  You know that tuft of old man hair that grows out of the center of the ear?  I had that, plus I was growing hair out of the cartilage and even the back side of the ear!  I've got some jacked up eye brows (probably from getting punched in the eye... who would have thought that a lover like me might get punched) and my head is monolithic!  None of that screams good looking!  I owed it to myself, my wife and potential offspring to really think this one through.

We decide that having kids was for us, so we eventually get pregnant.  Through the entire duration of the pregnancy I begged God to not give me a kid with a big toe on his forehead.  The big day comes around and we are off to the hospital to induce labor.  I was ready for all of that.  We went to the classes, we saw the films (which by the way do nothing for the actual delivery), I mean... we were ready.  We were, except for that little thought in the back of my head... "Please do not give me a Basset Hound for a kid... with a big toe in the middle of his forehead."

Labor starts, and as per usual I am fucking everything up.  We tried to set up a peaceful delivery room with shit my wife liked and we brought some toys that were going to be the new baby's toys.  We had this little cow that mooed when you squeezed it.  Guess what?  Women don't want to hear that when their bodies are getting ready to pass a cantaloupe through a key hole.  In fact, that may have been the reason the wife was doing all she could to snap my fingers off during the contractions.  (I'd offer the whole hand to squeeze but she'd opt for the top two knuckles of every finger to twist and bend in directions they don't move.)  Even then, that was the least of my worries.

We only had a 50/50 chance of a regular looking kid, and that is a maybe at best.  The labor pains come and go.  I'm trying to help my wife, but that ain't working right.  "You want the little mooing cow right in your face, sweetheart?''.  Yeah, no... she didn't want it but for some dumb reason I kept offering.  Now the labor pains are stacked right on top of each other and in walks the doctor.  Shit just got real, yall!

I'm freaking out...  My ass is not qualified to be in that room right now.  I kept fucking up the labor process and now you want my ass in the delivery room during delivery?  "Bad news", I thought.  "I'll probably make the doctor drop the baby, ensuring some extra ugly."  The doctor tells my wife to "push", and then I hear "okay the head is out".  For some extra special dumb reason, I go for a peek.  All I could think when I saw that was, "well, there went the vagina".  This kids head was big so I immediately thought, "were off to a bad start here, honey".  I tried to keep a positive look on my face, while watching my wife go through the most painful thing in the world.  I tried to be encouraging.  I tried to say nice shit.  "The shoulders are clear, so one more push DeeDee" the doctor said and in an instant, there he was.  (He was supposed to be a girl by the way.)  His head was giant, but it was anatomically correct.  "Congratulations, you have a baby boy!"  My wife was elated... probably because she didn't have to deal with my stupid ass being a "labor coach" anymore.

The doctor asks me to cut the umbilical cord and I realize that my kid is my favorite color (kind of gray) and my least favorite texture... pasty.  "Is he okay?" I asked the doctor.  "He's perfect, now cut the cord and lets hand the baby to the nurses."  The baby was in the wife's hands and momma and baby were doing fine.

I was relieved.  I was relieved big time, because I didn't want to hate my wife and myself.

As it turns out, both my first and second kids are pretty good looking kids.  In fact, I think they are the best looking kids in the world.  Add to that fact that they are both extremely brilliant...  I am truly blessed!