A Baby Story Part 12

Having read much of the obligatory pre-birth literature, I was prepared for many of the possible behavioral changes in my wife. Hormonal fluctuation, post-partum malaise, and sleep deprivation were all cited as contributing factors to watch for in the days and months following the delivery. 

What I was not prepared for was the onset of Worst-Case Scenario Syndrome (WCSS), a debilitating condition whereby a characteristically logical person finds themselves assuming that any situation involving their child will have a horrific outcome.

Normally, WCSS takes a milder form (don’t cross your eyes or they will get stuck like that, you’ll ruin your supper, etc..) but all too often it can intensify until you find yourself discussing the plot of a Sean Penn film. The signs tend to be gradual and in my wife’s case tended to involve common household accidents. For instance we had the following conversation about an ill-placed ottoman:

Her – Why is this ottoman pushed out?

Me – Sorry, I forgot to push it back after I got up.

Her – What if one of us is holding the baby, trips on it, and crushes his tiny body as a result of the subsequent loss of balance it caused!?

I am here to tell you that there is not an appropriate response to that hypothetical. Suddenly, commonplace laziness has created an unfathomable tragedy and “it would make me sad” will likely get you struck by a desk-lamp. These conjectural scenarios can be associated with anything; bath-time, misplaced laundry, or even improperly discarded candy wrappers.

All of this culminated at two o’clock in the morning a few nights ago when my wife shook me awake to inform me that our dog had been murdered by unknown assailants who had absconded with our infant son. When I groggily inquired as to how she arrived so readily at this canine homicide/amber alert explanation she pointed to the video monitor on our nightstand and said, “See! He isn’t there!”

After retrieving my glasses, I glanced at the receiver and noticed that I did not see the form of a sleeping baby. I also noticed that I was staring at a very pixelated close-up of the crib mattress indicating that the camera has fallen from its mount. When I explained this to her in order allay her fears, I got the feeling that instead of calming her down I had simply given her a reason to believe the perpetrators were even cleverer than she had originally suspected.

Walking past our still-breathing dog and into the nursery, I found our son sound asleep and the camera face down on the mattress. Returning it to its perch, I sauntered back to the bedroom and explained that there was no need to alert law enforcement. When I asked how she surmised our pet’s unfortunate end by staring at the video monitor, she explained that since the child had been taken without our knowledge the only explanation was that they had killed our dog first in order to escape undetected. It was at this point I decided to go back to sleep before she formed a conspiracy theory surrounding the relocated diaper genie.

They Say

Just the other day I was talking to a friend and I realized that there is nothing more conversationally powerful than the open-ended phrase, “they say.” It is the accepted method of introducing unverifiable facts attributed to ambiguous experts in an unidentified field of study. The best part is that current societal norms insist that all participants accept these revelations without question lest we be considered rude.

Personally, I find myself deploying “they say” on three separate occasions:

1.      I have an unsubstantiated theory I wish to legitimize without fear of reprisal.

Let’s say that I am in a conversation with someone and for whatever reason I have come to believe that the leading cause of death for Caucasian rhythm guitarists is hummus poisoning. To my knowledge, this is nothing more than wild speculation but presentation is key:

Scenario A

"I just realized that spoiled hummus is to blame for the death of most white rhythm guitarists. Did you know that?"

"Really? Where did you get that from? Did something happen to Ronnie Wood? That doesn’t even sound plausible. Why am I even friends with you?"

Scenario B

"They say that the leading cause of death for Caucasian rhythm guitarists is hummus poisoning."

"Really? That is interesting. I suppose I have never read anything that would disprove that....."

2.      I wish to broach a volatile subject with a new acquaintance in a non-committal fashion.

Let’s say I want to interject a blanket statement that covers all major hot-button issues simultaneously. This allows me to ascertain the scope of someone’s political perspective in the most efficient manner possible. For instance, I could approach a complete stranger and declare, “They say that the majority of abortion providers in states without the death penalty are welfare-funded homosexual Islamic immigrants whose passion for gun control is only narrowly exceeded by their commitment to creeping socialism.”

If the person reacts negatively, you can easily distance yourself by attributing the statement to an often maligned organization like the Federal government or bloggers named Trey. If the person readily accepts this statement as true, it might be time to talk to someone else.

3.      I wish to offer unsolicited medical advice.

You may find yourself in the elevator with a coworker when the subject of their recent surgical procedure comes up. Desperate for a response other than “oh my” or “that sounds terrible,” sometimes I will toss out legitimate sounding home remedies in the hopes that the person will field test them for me.

A few that can yield interesting results:

• They say that pre-moistening your undershirt with pineapple juice does wonders for gout.
• They say that most dandruff can be alleviated by mixing laxatives and baby aspirin.
• They say that it is cheaper to just take out your stitches at home with a staple remover.
• They say that canine heart-worm medication is an aphrodisiac.
• They say that the majority of third nipples are the result of excess riboflavin in your diet.
• They say that sleeping east to west is the most effective way to minimize the impact of rosacea.

Horror & Home-ownership

Having recently watched a few horror movies (Paranormal Activity, Insidious, Sinister, etc..) it has occurred to me that a disturbing pattern has emerged. Primarily, that home-ownership lends itself to demonic possession. For whatever reason, dark spiritual forces are attracted to American mortgage holders while transient citizens with no equity benefit from “renter’s immunity.” As a homeowner, I find this to be offensive. If you have never toured a moderately-priced apartment complex you don’t know the definition of uneasiness and foreboding. Maybe I am reading too much into these productions, but it is almost as if the American dream itself is under attack.

Furthermore, the current movie trend indicates that the poorly illuminated attic has replaced the poorly illuminated basement as the popular staging area of choice for nefarious supernatural encounters. As a mortgage holder with overhead storage, I can assure you that the most frightening aspect of a dimly lit attic the opportunity to miss a beam and put your foot through the sheetrock. 

That is not to say that discovering a trunk of Native American snuff films or the remnants of a gypsy garage sale wouldn’t be disconcerting; it is simply the acknowledgement that such a discovery would be far more interesting than racking myself on a support beam and making a trip to Lowes.

It would also appear that the homeowner’s association in all of these films prohibits the use of light-bulbs in excess of 40 watts since the characters spend most of the film squinting or utilizing underpowered flashlights. For all the money the owners spend on priests and paranormal investigation they could have purchased a few torch lamps from K-mart and saved themselves a lot of unnecessary anxiety.

While I am on the subject, how is it possible to walk into a dark room and not automatically reach for the light switch? It is an involuntary motion for anyone born since the Great Depression. The muscle memory is so ingrained I can’t even stop myself from doing it when I know the electricity is out. Levitating flatware or not, when I walk into a dark room, I reach around for a light switch. 

On a side note, there was a scene from Sinister that I wished they had filmed. I always hope these movies would include the dialogue between the main protagonist and the realtor who just received the most surprising phone call of their career.

Realtor – Hello?

Buyer – Yes, I was interested in the scene of the grisly triple homicide/unsolved child abduction. I noticed that the price was recently reduced and I had a question concerning the school zoning.

Realtor – Uh…sure….let me just get my notes here. It is just a few miles from a wonderful charter school, one of the best in this part of the state.

Buyer – Do you think they would have any openings?

Realtor – I would venture to guess they have at least one…..

Buyer – What about the kitchen? From the photos it looks a little outdated.

Realtor – I know the previous owners had plans to renovate, but those fell by the wayside when they were brutally executed on the sun porch. On the plus side, the master bedroom has a spacious on-suite!