Tonight I have to pack my suitcase because my sister is going to be popping out a kid any day now and as soon as that happens, I’ll be boarding plane to come to her rescue and help her do all the important things that come with having a newborn baby boy. Like turning up the TV volume to mask his crying. JUST KIDDING. We’ll put the baby outside so we don’t have to put our drinks down to reach for the remote.
My mom is hardcore and is flying out tomorrow so she can be there for the labor process, which is something I considered for zero seconds because DO YOU KNOW WHAT LABOR LOOKS LIKE? I was perusing a medical textbook at a garage sale last spring and accidentally saw a picture of a baby crowning, and I actually dropped the book, open, onto the lawn and ran back to the car to do some deep breathing. When I looked back, there was a little girl standing over the book starting to make the same face as that guy who looks directly at the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones. Her parents should totally thank me because that girl will not be having sex until she is 50.
I’m a tiny bit nervous about helping take care of a baby because a) Historically, I do not like them, and b) I almost pooped MY OWN pants last week so I think it’s safe to say I’ve got my own problems to focus on. (I considered writing about this incident, but I think it will suffice to say it involved a greasy lunch, a mad dash through the aisles of Walmart and the subsequent death of my dignity in a handicapped bathroom stall bearing several phone numbers and a fine line drawing of a hairy ballsack). I’m confident that I will feel differently about my nephew not only because we will share DNA, but also because I plan to systematically undermine my sister and her husband so that I will be his Cool Aunt Heather. When he gets his first celebrity crush I will totally help him compile a creepy stalker binder full of photos. Ditto for his first real-life crush. I will show him the best unhealthy snack combos (popcorn and M&Ms, butter and sprinkle sandwiches) and will teach him about Harry Potter, cheese, and why Macs are way better than PCs. You know, all the things he needs to be successful in life. And I bet he will teach me some things as well. Like why anyone would voluntarily push 8 pounds of screaming pooping machine out their hoo-ha.
I believe I’ll pack a bottle of something 100-proof for my sister.