My wife is late.
I’m not saying she’s running behind. She’s not tardy. She’s late. As in, "if I were a teenager saying this about my girlfriend I’d be freaking out about right now" late.
We’re not teenagers. Our kids are. We don’t need any offspring any younger. I’m not that concerned about it, to be honest with you. What will be will be. It seems unlikely that we’re expecting, given the hot flashes.
I’m not sure which prospect is more terrifying, that of being a father of an infant again or living through menopause. I’ve survived “the change of life” once, with my mother. It was not a pleasant experience. She could be perfectly normal one moment, then certifiably insane the next. It was as if someone flipped a switch and turned daylight into darkness without warning. I’ve told my wife for years that, if she goes through menopause, I’ve moving out until it’s over.
The signs started last year. She would get so hot at night that she would kick off the covers and still sweat. In a moment of sheer inspiration, I found myself at Sears. This is not a place I go very often, except to buy refills for my string trimmer. This day, I stood at the top of an escalator and stared longingly, lovingly at window units. Yes, I’m talking air conditioners.
This is not something one with central heat and air would often consider. Desperate times call for desperate measures, however, and measures were implemented. I produced a credit card and bought a Kenmore. I had to make sure it would plug into a standard outlet and that installation was idiot-proof. I did. It did. It was. I popped that puppy into the window on her side of the bed. She has a remote control that allows her to turn it off or on and to change the temperatures and the fan speed. A dozen roses? A cruise? Diamond earrings? Are you kidding me? This is the best present I ever bought her. She controls her own comfort, and I get some sleep. So, I really think this delay in her cycle isn’t a pregnancy.
Oh, but what if it is? It means I will be 64 when the kid goes to college. It’s likely the kid will be closer in age to any nieces and nephews that its brother and sister. Talk about losing sleep. Man, I was counting on the next infant in my life being a grandkid. We’d have to add a bedroom onto our house. We’d have to hire help. When my existing kids were little, I worked nights, so we never had to use a daycare. The very notion is a little bit exciting but altogether more frightening. It would be even more so if I thought the notion to be anything more than remotely possible.
So, I’ve answered my own question. I’m much more concerned about a “change of life baby” than I am holding my partner’s hand through the change of life itself. Maybe I won’t move out after all. I’ll just make sure she has fresh batteries in that Kenmore remote.
Friday, May 05, 2006
My wife is late.
Posted by Darrell at 5/05/2006