The Intelligence Estimate

"I've got this crazy feeling that you've been trying to get to me when all you have to do is calmly call me. Calmly."

-Barenaked Ladies

Work has been a little crazy lately. Every time I step through the door people ask me, "has she had the baby yet?" I know it comes from a good place but it gets old very quickly. I feel like some kind of side show freak. COME AND SEE THE AMAZING MATERNITY MAN! Don't be afraid little ones, step right up and ask him anything you like!

"When's she due?"

"Are you nervous?"

"How's she feeling?"

"You must be pretty nervous, huh?"

"Is she ready for this to be over?"

"You've got to be so nervous right now, right?"

"Is she still working?"

"So are you nervous yet?"

In all honesty I've been nervous for 9 months, but I've gotten used to it. I've been adjusting pretty well, but when you get 25 people a day asking you if you're nervous you begin to think, "Maybe they know something I don't."

My pat answer at this point is, "You know what? I wasn't nervous until you mentioned it. Thanks!" Because if I'm gonna be nervous, I at least wanna make them feel bad for making me nervous. It's my passive-aggressive, scorched earth policy towards interpersonal communication.

The other question I get a lot is, "So do you have a pager or something? How can she get a hold of you?" And I'm just enough of a pessimist to hear in that, "I know you haven't thought of this for yourself so let me clue you in, she's gonna want to contact you when she goes into labor."

So I lash out, "Nope, I don't even have my phone with me." Which is a lie, but I love to see the panic on their faces. Who's nervous now?

So the other night at work I get a phone call from Jen, but I can't get to my cell phone in time to answer it and it goes right into voice mail. Knowing that there is a cadre of people around me who flip out every time they see me answer my phone, I slip into the stairwell to take it. Without even listening to the message I call home to see what's going on. Jen, who was in the middle of leaving me a message, clicks over and answers.

"Guess what?"

Knowing that the baby is already a few days over due and already primed with fear a thousand questions go through my mind.

"Do you need me to call you a cab? Is your bag packed? Do I need to come home and get the car? Should I drive you? Do you just want to meet me at the hospital? Should I get someone to cover the rest of my shift? What's the fastest way to the hospital? Cab? Car? Train? Ultralite?"

I must have been silent (flipping through all the possible questions) for too long because Jen continues, "guess who cannot figure out how to turn on the TV?"

My wife's not stupid, and, to be fair, our TV does seem to be designed specifically to confuse people. You have one channel for the cable, one for the VCR, one for the Wii and one for the xBox. Then there are no less than three different remotes needed to carry out any given function and any number of variables that can happen within each one of the peripheral's domains that can effect the TV's functionality. And given the fact the she doesn't watch as much TV as I do, it is perfectly reasonable that she might not be able to decipher the codes for turning it off and on.

That being said, it's no reason to give me a heart attack either.

"Turn it to channel 73 and you should be fine," I said.

"Ok. Thanks."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I'm sorry. The TV's just so complicated, and with company here I got distracted...."

She didn't even realize what she'd done. After explaining to her how she almost killed me, she apologized. In the meantime, until our daughter arrives, we've agreed that when she calls me she will always start with, "Everything's fine, I'm not going into labor!"

Call me.

Calmly.