1950s reborn?

So over the last four days Cass and I have begun doing two things things that can either be really exciting, really daunting or an uncomfortable mixture of both for new parents. Number one, we bought a bunch of baby paraphernalia like a doozer crib, bambino carrier and munchkin stroller, etc. Number two, we started our birthing class.

Now I can totally understand why many couples (or one out of two parents) are elated to begin hording infant apparatuses--the physical accumulation of this stuff does drive home the fact that it's "really happening"--and I suppose many procreators have always wanted to convert their house into a pastel-pink and baby-blue shrine to gromithood, but Goddamn it all if this shit doesn't smack of 1950s suburbia.

Don't get me wrong. Cass and I are hugely excited about the pregnancy and having a child. We're also naively-devoted--as parents are--to changing everything in the hopes creating the best environment possible for that little nipper and totally willing to eat humble pie about all the things we've said--and all the things I'm writing right now--when that bundle of joy drops from the stork's beak and levels our world like inter-galactic baby-bomb. And of course, all of this equipment is functional--some might say required, although I won't--and better designed than it ever has been.

But that doesn't stop me from wanting to go for a jog with the baby under my arm like a football and giving a few stroller-totting moms the straight-arm on my way to the water fountain at Stanely Park (before any of you stroller-totting moms go spouting off, know that I am undefeated in arm wrestling against women, so bring it).

Cass just wishes for less frills. What's with all the frills?

As far as the birthing classes go, I'm considerably more pragmatic. As my mom is so fond of pointing out with her laughter, I know nothing about birthing and little about babies. My gut feeling is that the whole delivery thing would take care of itself no matter what I did, but I also understand there are ways to make the whole process much easier on both parents, not to mention a lot of the information is extremely interesting. And, you know, it just ramps up the "Impending" scale. So I guess I don't really have any complaints about the birthing class, it's just like, you know, a little weird.

Post-Script: Cass and I would just quickly like to thank me moms and pops as well the indomitable Hicks' Clan of Australia for helping us financially, spiritually and every other way you can help people. Despite our cheekiness, we're so appreciative of our families and look forward to finally contributing some biomass of our own to such a quality brood.
Long live the Froicks!