All baby, all the time (and you're not even here yet)

I had another dream last night, and in this dream we had the baby, and she was adorable and lovely (and bald, incidentally), and people other than me (for once) were doing or not doing things with her to terrify me (the only one I specifically remember is my brother -- it's my subconscious I guess? -- leaving her face-down between two couch cushions). I also remember that people kept asking me her name, and I could NOT remember it, and I thought maybe it was Amy or Katie, but neither of those sounded quite right (so I guess those are two I can cross off the list, ha).

My favorite dream so far though -- and the symbolism seems about as heavy-handed as one could expect) -- was the one a few months ago where G. and I got our baby from a drive-through window, and asked the cashier "Now what do we do with her?" No instruction manual, no preparation, nuttin' (although she did come with a name I didn't choose, kind of like those Cabbage Patch Kids birth certificates, remember those? My CPK was Jacquelin Danya). Total holy-shit moment. Probably not that far from reality, no?

"Basic Baby Care" class on Tuesday was interesting and positive. The theme was "it's harder to mess this up than you think, and if you do screw up, the baby probably won't a) know or b) hold it against you." So that was reassuring. G. did not like all the gross-out stuff they talked about: lots of closeup pictures of different stages of poop, newly circumcised penises (penii?), healing belly buttons, babies with coneheads, babies with cradle cap, babies with acne all over their bodies, and/or covered with "cheese".... but you know what? That is exactly why we are taking this class -- no surprises when she pops out all gooey and (hopefully only temporarily) deformed.

And he did keep it together very well -- other than telling me to "go out for a pass" with the practice doll, and making me laugh during a lecture by wondering when he should "ask if we can warm the baby up in the microwave." He's going to be a great dad. Especially if he can continue to keep me laughing when confronted by poop and goo and scabs.