July 6, 2007

Only The Essentials …

Today marks the 10-year anniversary of the day I asked Brittany, my squishy pride and joy, to be my girlfriend. It was a magical day that would change my life forever. She used to be a timid girl, wearing baggy clothes and an eyebrow ring. Now she's not so timid, her clothes fit (sort of) and the ring has migrated from her brow to her finger—picking up some diamonds along the way. But one thing certainly hasn't changed: She still finds new and exciting ways to ignore me.

For the past 4 months I've been nagging Brittany to pack her bag for the hospital, and for the past 4 months it's laid on the floor empty. She says that she wants to use a suitcase, as if she's going on a trip. But women on TV and the movies don't take a suitcase, they take a duffle bag. They always take a duffle bag. It's essential to the baby delivery process.

"You're taking the duffle!"

The only duffle we owned was an artifact from our years of soccer. It was old and showcased two holes surrounded by a pocket of used tissues. The zipper had a dirty sock dangling from it, much like a tree-shaped air-freshener hangs from a rear-view mirror. And, unlike my favorite softball jersey, it was only covered in a thin layer of Dorito crumbs. It was perfect.

"I'm not taking the duffle," she said.

"Why not!?"

"I can only handle one smelly thing while I'm delivering this baby."

Hmm…I think that was a shot at me.

"That was a shot at you."

After an intense battle of rock, paper, scissors, we compromised and agreed to get a new duffle that was devoid of soccer stink. We also agreed that there's no way in the world that paper beats rock. Nothing should beat rock, except for maybe a gavel. Gavel could definitely beat rock.

The days passed and the duffle still sat in the baby's room. Empty. It drove me crazy. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't watch Will & Grace (though that really had nothing to do with the empty duffle). I couldn't stand not being prepared when the baby could pop out at any minute, so I decided to pack the bag for her.

I rummaged through the house grabbing all the essentials. An item here, an item there. I was careful and meticulous, packing only what I thought she might need in the hospital. Nothing more, nothing less. The duffle was filled to the brim.

I set it on the bed and called Brittany into the room. With a smile, I told her what I had done—how I had helped her prepare for the moment; how it was one thing less that she'd have to do. The look on her face said it all. And what it didn't say, she said out loud:

"Where are my clothes? Where are my toiletries?"

Clothes? Toiletries.

"I only packed your essentials."

"Essentials, eh?" She rummaged through the bag. "Why in the hell do I need a bathing suit, a pound of bologna and a picture of Rod Stewart?"

See fellas, women don't know anything.

She tossed out everything. From bologna to Rod to "Scrubs" season 5. Nothing I packed was suitable. She replaced it with pajamas and underwear and a pouch full of bathroom products, including a toothbush, toothpaste and comb. She explained why these items were far more important than the "junk" I piled into her bag.

With that, she zipped up the duffle and set it next to the bed. It was finally packed and ready to go. I couldn't have asked for a better anniversary present.

Other than maybe a gavel. It definitely beats rock.

(Happy anniversary, love.)

6 comments:

Will said...

Respect the Scrubs!

Gun beats rock.

For the baby's sake, I certainly hope that he/she look like BK2 for his/her sake. If the baby is anything like you, your poor vacuum will be constantly clogged with hair... maybe I should have voted monkey.

Tom said...

I agree with Will that Scrubs deserves it's full props and should definitely be included, it is essential.

I gave up on rock, paper scissors, I play a new game. Shoe, cockroach, nuclear bomb. Of course nuclear bomb beats shoe, but, in a bizarre twist, cockroach beats the nuclear bomb only to be squashed by shoe.

Kevin said...

Diamonds beat rock. Since you gave her diamonds, that means she always beats you. Sorry bro.

But she shoulda kept the bologna. What if she gets hungry before they send you home in the 24 hours post-birth? She can't drink that free powdered coffee that hospitals have in the machines...

Perhaps a fruit roll-up? And some flapjacks!

Laurie said...

If you go by the evolutionary theory - the baby will resemble its father (Brian) to ensure that there is no uncertainty of paternity. Which, in turn, encourages the father to take better care of mom and baby.

I guess the theory says if the baby doesn't resemble the father - then he may resent the child. (Or mom, for hooking up with the milkman!)

Here's an old NYT article that talks about this theory: (I did not make this up!) http://www.nytimes.com/2005/03/22/health/22real.html?ex=1184126400&en=12b8cadb8c42b844&ei=5070

Gena Sandy said...

Brittany is beautiful!!!
Good luck and best wishes to both of you.

Will said...

CONGRATS! When you going to post some pics?