The Sock Diary

Musings of a part-time Sweaty Sock.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

This the last time...

...I'll post this as a non-dad. Tomorrow, bright and early, we're off to see the nice man with the scalpel who will hand us our recalcitrant child.

To explain: sprog is due next week, but has managed to get itself in a tizzy, ending up with it's head up in Mrs Sock's ribs and feet down below, dancing a tap dance and keeping us up at night. Apparently this is a Flex Breech position, and is more dodgey than (the pretty dodgey) Extended Breech position and normal head-down position to have a natural labour. The big problem is the umbilical can be delivered first, which a big no-no in the general scheme of things, so we've decided to go for an elective caesarian.

Looking forward to it, for two reasons. I'll have a damn good excuse to show everyone the pram we got. It's well cool (blimey, that's probably really unhip and a "Dad" thing to say), Phil and Ted's Most Excellent Buggy Company :) I chose it cos of the name, cos it sounds great, and then worked on selling it to Mrs Sock with the "features". I am that shallow. Yes, prams have features. I'm damn sure the pram companies can see the fathers coming. "I believe my pram's faster than yours cos mine's a Ferrari red one".

Oh yeah, and the other reason I'm looking forward to it? I can stop thinking "This'll be the last time I before I'm a dad", which is as annoying as that song (probably "Frankie... do you remember me? Frankie....") which gets stuck in your head and goes round and round and you really want to clout the idiot that mentioned it. Sorry about that.

And we're going to be parents... that's a bit scary. The old butterflies in the tummy the day before an interview have nothing on the butterflies the day before meeting your first born. Wish us luck. It's last time you can, before I'm a dad.