Warning – this is not a well thought out post so it’ll probably suck and I may talk about my pubes. I’m definitely going to mention my balls though, so stop now if that makes you squeamish.
I’m not sure who’s responsible for doling out fetuses from the heavens, but I’m fairly certain it’s done randomly and with little oversight or forethought.
My guess would be that Mother Nature, the Virgin Mary or a like situated woman is the one in charge of sending the stork along its way to deliver babies. I say this because the process is so fucked up and random that surely there’s a woman running the show.
I’m not saying that she gets it wrong all the time; that’s certainly not true. There are just so many fucked up, drug addled, alcoholic, no job having people out there getting babies while so many loving, decent couples, who want a baby in the worst way, wait in limbo. It makes little sense to me.
The wife and I were ready and willing to receive our first two babies. Well, not ready I guess, nobody is ever really ready, but we weren’t going to do anything to keep it from happening at the time. We put it in the hands of God and whichever woman he has in charge of this mess, I guess you could say.
She and I conceived Ace on October 22, 2002, just a bit over a month after our wedding! Yes, I said conceived! I have no clue why I remember this. We were at the Schlafly Taproom downtown pounding Oatmeal Stouts with our friends Matt and Joe the night we made the beast with two backs and were blessed with Ace. That’s a Shakespeare’s Othello reference for my less cultured friends and those of you who think I’m all tits and giggles!
I have no clue when Cdawg was conceived, but he came to us in 2009.
We had our hands full with me being in law school and both of us working full time, that’s why there are nearly six years between Ace and Cdawg. But, he eventually came to us and we had our perfect little family.
When you’re given a boy and a girl or a girl and then a boy, that’s God’s way of saying you’re done having children. Well, he’s saying you should be done having children.
Alas, depending on who you ask, we were either done (wife), or still considering whether or not to be done (yours truly). While we were still “considering”, Mother Nature’s dumbass, directionally challenged stork came back to our house with G$ and we suddenly became a family of five.
While I knew there were ways to prevent said stork from visiting, I had always been reluctant to be the one to make that commitment. Those with balls know why.
Women like to bitch, moan and groan about giving birth and their monthly vistitor and yadda yadda yadda, as though any of those things compare to ball pain! They don’t!
In fact, ball pain is so bad that a strike to the genitalia (balls) by a police officer with a weapon is considered deadly force! That’s true in many jurisdictions!
Anyway, at some point a man has to decide if he wants to pass on the big V and never have sex with my wife again, or suck it up and avoid becoming a chronic masturbator all over again.
I chose to suck it up and it wasn’t so bad. Had I known how simple the procedure was, I may have looked into it while I was much younger! The key is to find many other men you trust who’ve had the procedure and are willing to tell you that it’s not as bad as you think it is.
I guess I expected there to be needles and knifes and what not all up in my man bits, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Here is how my procedure went for those still on the fence.
The doctor has you remove your pantaloons and lie on the little dental chair looking thing with your legs all spread apart (I have much more empathy for ladies who go through this nonsense with their lady doctors now).
Doctor and pretty 25 year old looking female assistant enter room while you remain positioned in your awkward, vulnerable position sans pantaloons. Doctor lifts the sheet that I had put over my private parts and both doctor and lovely assistant gaze at said privates for uncomfortable amount of time before speaking.
Doc: “You did a nice job shaving yourself, Mr. Don”
Me: thinking geez, not even a hello first? “Thanks Doc, I’ve been practicing on my face for two decades. You told me to shave there really well before I came in so I was just following doctor’s orders.”
Doc: chuckles… “You don’t shave there often?”
Me: “Uh, no sir, never…I’m in my thirties, I’m straight and I don’t compete in swimming or biking or bodybuilding so, no. Do most men?”
Doc: clearly he’s easily amused because he’s chuckling again, “I’d say it’s 50/50”
That’s fascinating to me. I’ve never been taught that a man should keep his private areas trimmed, but if this is something that half the men in the world do, then I guess I need to teach at least one of my two boys how to do this.
So the doc is going about his business and says that he noticed I worked for the police department while mentioning, simultaneously, that he just recently got a speeding ticket.
Well fuck, this can’t be good, I think to myself. I quickly mention to him that I’m an attorney, not a police officer! We then spend the next ten minutes talking about what douches some police officers can be. Wonderful!
The doctor was actually very understanding and pro-police officer, but he thought he didn’t deserve a ticket since he was rushing to perform a non-emergency big V at the time. There’s something slightly awkward about making small talk with a man who’s touching your balls with a scalpel, let alone talking about something you aren’t in agreement with.
Well, the good doctor didn’t take his ticket frustrations out on my boys, and for that I was appreciative.
With a little ice and rest, the boys were back in business in just a few short days and we’ve remained a family of five.