The Adventures of Little Steve, Vol. 4

Okay, I’ll admit it. Having lent ear to your horror stories in untold number, I am willing to accept defeat. You have won. I am officially frightened.

For the longest time, I refused to acknowledge the profundity of such commentary. They are only trying to scare me, I told myself. I simply won’t believe it. Oh just wait, was often the reply. Everything will change. You’ll see.

The tales covered the entire spectrum. Toy after toy after plastic toy, my brother Jeb muttered, eyes glazed over like a veteran of some lost war. Catch up on your rest now, advised a plethora of sources, because, basically, you won’t sleep for a year. The smell, others said, faces covered with shell shock, or worse. Fun stuff? Ha! Yeah, that’s over.

A mother made the comment on the website Outside Parent that having kids is akin to entering an entirely new epoch. She called it Before Children; B.C. for short. I’ve heard this elsewhere, in different forms, from other people. I never really put much stock in it, but such insidious omnipresence leads me to believe I am missing something. Parenthood must be like combat. Until you experience it for yourself, you really can’t know anything about it.

Well, with less than a month to go before Little Steve’s arrival, I seem to be suffering from what one would call pre-battle jitters.

I’m suddenly worried about all sorts of things. What if there is something wrong with him, a chronic condition or disability? What if I panic and drop the little guy? What if he comes out looking like me, covered head to toe in fur?

No less worrisome than those genuine concerns are other, more evanescent ones. I realize my real life will change in tangible, concrete ways. But what about my invented one? What about my philosophies, my beliefs, my pipe dream? Is my fantasy of a less intrusive existence destined to be buried beneath an onslaught of plastic paraphernalia and Happy Meals? Toys, I hear Jeb say again. So many toys.

I’d really like to thank everyone who has been so supportive of Brandi and me throughout this grand adventure. We sincerely appreciate the efforts of you all. Thanks, Cindy, for spending the entire month of December making diapers. Alece, for the batch of Craigslist clothes. Sharie and Cadence, for the box filled with slightly used items (“boys love dinosaurs”). Lisa, Sandy, and Merry for their encouragement and advice. Dan and Vic, for the wonderful shower. Thanks to each and every one of you who has helped get Little Steve this far.

Did I not know you were all there, waiting to catch him should he fall, were he without your loving support and guidance, I would certainly be much more terrified than I already am.