Wednesday, January 20, 2010
KNOCKED UP: "Brooke, Are You Sure You're Pregnant?"
They say when it comes to having kids there's never a perfect time. And even if you're lucky enough to stop procrastinating already and make a decision when to have kids, there's no guarantee when you're going to have them or if you'll even be able to have them. And then there are all the accidents. When it came to conceiving the Bean, she was no accident. Brooke and I (and Ozzy) were on our honeymoon in Lake George having drinks, roasting marshmallows, talking about our wonderful new life together and then the conversation came up: Kids. "Uh, yah mean like have one, now?" I said. Well, it wasn't really much of a conversation. It was more like, okay we're married. We're not getting any younger. The clock is ticking. Let's do this. Let's make a baby. "Okay," I nodded as I trembled. Why was I such a wussy? Now, although I wanted children, I still thought I had a little playtime before we had a baby and before it took up all of my time for the rest of my life. Not to mention, I didn't know the first thing about being a father. It was scary thinking about it. All the responsibility. The budget. The diapers. But the time had come. And so we began our journey to becoming parents that weekend. But there was no way to tell when my Supersonic Kosher Semen would arrive safely at its Irish Catholic destination.
Three months later, one Thursday night, I was in a really crappy mood about how my publisher did such a crappy job designing my Puppy Chow is Better than Prozac book jacket. I was so upset. (Even though it was actually an amazing cover and I was just pissed because I didn't do the final design). So as I was complaining and moaning to the faceless emails on my monitor, Brooke came home from work. And she was so damn happy. “Hi honey," she harmonized. "Leave me alone, I’m so pissed,” I grunted. “My publisher is an idiot, did you see the cover? They’re redesigning my cover. This sucks. It sucks.” So anyway, now Brooke was pissed at me for ruining her good mood. "Oh, great." The night was ruined. We sat down in front of the TV. So whadayah want to watch?” she said. “I don’t know? What do you want to watch?" Click. Click. Click. "We got any movies?" So I got up to see if there were any red envelopes from Netflix that could quite possibly save our evening. And there it was. There it was. I tore open the envelope, hoping it was something good and it was. “Knocked Up!’ We got 'Knocked Up’ Brooke!,” I screamed. I ran into the living room. “I’m psyched! I’m so psyched! We got Knocked Up! Aren't you psyched?” And Brooke was just looking at me, “I don’t want to watch it.” I didn't understand. "Why not? Are you serious? What do you mean?” She said, “It’s disgusting.” Now, I totally didn't get it. “Disgusting? You love bloody-eyed zombie movies. Pitchfork in the head cinema.” She said this movie was different. "I just don't want to watch it, okay. It's too graphic." Okay, she was officially nuts. So I slammed the DVD down on the coffee table and got on my laptop and ordered a new wife. I mean, movie.
The next night, we were trying to figure out something to do. “Do you wanna go out?” I said. Then she said, “I don’t mind staying in." But then she said, “But we can go out if you want to go out.” God, we couldn't make up our minds. Forty minutes later we found ourselves standing in front of Shaheen Sweets on 29th street. “So what do you want to do?" I asked, and she didn't tell me what she wanted to do. She told me what she had already done. What we had already done. “Uh, I’m pregnant?” she said. My heart stopped. And I muttered the words every male who had ever been here before had muttered: “Are you sure you’re pregnant?” And she looked at me and smiled, "Yes” and I looked at her and said, “Oh, well that’s great." And then I said. “Wow." And she looked at me and said, “Wow.” And then she said she really wanted to tell me the night before when she came home happy but I pissed her off so much that she swore to never tell me. She would just wait for me to ask questions when she bloated up and craved dill pickles and Chunky Monkey.
And as we stood there under a tree, around the corner from Curry in a Hurry, I wrapped my arms around my beautiful wife and gave her a kiss letting her know how happy I was to be a dad. And then I whispered in her ear, “Oh so, 'Knocked Up' wouldn't have been the best thing to watch last night, huh?” She smiled and said, "No, but we can watch it tonight if you like." And I said, "You sure, you don't want to watch 'Big Daddy?"