Baby 2.0

I’m on the die-before-you-retire plan.

Anyone who really knows me, knows how much this depresses me. I am a man of leisure. I certainly look forward to a time when I can sleep until noon and play poker late into the night. Hell, I might even take up regular exercise when I retire because I will have so much free time on my hands.

But that when is now a lot more of an if.  I don’t see it happening.

I’m having another baby.

That means I will be 65 when my second – and last (I plan on getting the snip job!) – graduates high school. Then, I will have four years of college tuition to look forward to. Multiplied by 2.

I guess what I am saying is, if I was a betting man, I’d pony up to the window in Vegas and place my money on the chances of me dying before I retire.

But the truth is, I’d probably die a lot sooner without these kids in my life. Kids reinvigorate you. They give you a reason to live. I’m excited I have a second one on the way.

Sometime in mid-May of next year, little baby Gregg will arrive! He or she will blast into this world via c-section, just like sister Sydney.

Will it be a boy or a girl? Doesn’t matter. Last time, you will recall, I was 51 percent hoping for a boy. This time, I really am 50-50. My experience with a girl has been so positive, I would happily do it again.

Either way, I should find out in December. We already have names picked out for either gender. That’s better than last time, when we could only agree on girl names. By the way, I proposed no stripper names this time.

As I have stated many times in this blog, I never had a strong desire to have children. Brooke wanted two and I wanted zero. We compromised on two.

My fears are the same this time around as last time. I’ve done nothing for the last two months but obsess about a bigger house and adding an additional income stream. I’ve also wondered what would be the best line of work for someone who doesn’t want to be forced out before age 70.

I have zero energy now. How do I add another little Tasmanian devil to the mix? Sydney doesn’t even sleep through the night yet. Now comes another one who wants to party deep into the night, ala Lindsay Lohan? I don’t have enough money to go around now. How do I add another day care bill, a mound of diapers and 50-gallon drums of baby formula to my monthly tab? I have the patience of an angry bee now. How do I mix in another child who will spend nights tormenting me by sticking their hand in the VCR every five minutes, chewing electrical cords when I am not looking and pounding my computer keys while I am trying to check my fantasy league progress?

But what is different this time around is I know the reward. Having Sydney in my life has truly been the greatest experience of my 46 years. That smile can turn my day around in an instant. She does something silly every day that makes me laugh out loud. Her daily development provides a deep sense of interest and pride. I’m sure all of the same will occur with Baby Gregg # 2.

Plus, I know what to expect. When the baby does nothing but cry, sleep and poop for four months and has the same expression for me that he or she has for a brick wall, I will know that somewhere around the corner is coming that first hint of recognition of daddy and it will be accompanied by a smile that melts my heart.

In fact, this is my chance to get a kid who actually likes me. Sydney does nothing but call for mama and cuddle with mama 24/7. I’m as popular as Mel Gibson at a bat mitzvah with my own daughter. Maybe Baby Gregg #2 will have an affinity for daddy.

That is just one of the things that is going to be different this time around. I’m going to assert myself. No baby classes. No more taking the heat for not being excited enough. No nipple confusion. No $400 strollers. No letting the baby bounce off the bed.

I’ve learned some lessons.

This pregnancy is going to be all about me. When Brooke’s back hurts, mine is going to hurt more. When someone asks how she is feeling, I am going to blurt out my aches and pains. If there are any gifts to be doled out this time around, I am going to ask for something for my man cave.

I might even gain 50 pounds in sympathy weight. Oh wait…I did that last time.

I’m going to focus all the attention on me. The first pregnancy was for her. I’m going to enjoy this ride.

I better. For the next 22 years, I am going to work my rear end off, slaving decades past the issuance of my Golden Buckeye Card and AARP membership. It is going to be all about Sydney and her little brother or sister. I have to get them through college, or die trying.

A funny thing happened on the way to retirement…