There are probably three main questions on everyone’s mind that I haven’t yet addressed on this blog, namely:
1. How are Marie’s cats adjusting to the new baby?
They’re coping. They spent several days with my parents and mother-in-law in the house while we were at the hospital, so they were already somewhat neurotic (rather, more neurotic than normal) by the time we returned home. Skylar whined a lot in her tiny little pipsqueak whine. Wrigley just sat in a corner and stared with giant black pupils. But once they were permitted to sniff the baby and determine she did not pose a threat to either Wrigley’s Alpha status or Skylar’s perceived Alpha status, they came around. Now, they are back to their usual spoiled-rotten selves and pretty much disregard the baby unless she is screaming, in which case Wrigley leaves the room and Skylar cocks her head to one side and asks, “mow?”
2. Why the hell did Marie, such a smart, attractive and talented blogger, have to go and ruin her blog by having a baby?
That’s a tough one. In my opinion, all the conventional reasons people give for wanting to spawn are stupid: I want to leave my legacy; I want to make a cuddly baby friend to play with; I want to experience the miracle of life; my cats don’t really appreciate me; it’s God’s plan; the Devil needs an heir. Instead of trying to come up with some noble reason for wanting kids, we’re better off admitting it really just boils down to 100 million years of primal fucking instinct. (LITERALLY!) Something in my brain wanted me to make a baby, and it was useless to resist. Also, she is really cuddly and cute and fun to play with. Or, I’m told she will someday be fun to play with. Right now she just kind of stares at me and screws up her face whenever I kiss her.
3. If it weren’t for the Chicago Bulls, would anyone still remember the Alan Parsons Project?