The Lifting.

     There's a scene in a Family Guy episode where Clinton's motorcade breaks down in front of Peter's house. Still excited about his new workout regimen, Peter tells the secret service he can lift the car all by himself. He says "the trick is to shift all the weight from your legs through to your back and groin, then lift with a twisting jerking motion. You wanna take your legs completely out of the equation". He proceeds to do just that and absolutely wrecks his back.
     Fellas, I have a feeling there's going to be a lot of heavy lifting involved in my wife's pregnancy; and not just by her. Oh no, on the contrary. The more pregnant she gets the less she's able to carry. Don't get me wrong, I understand. Her center of balance is off, she's already carrying a quadrillion pounds of baby, her ankles are the size of pony kegs. I get it, I really do. But this early in the pregnancy?
     My wife is a machine. She would give any terminator a run for its money. While coaching cross-country at the high school where she teaches is hardcore, the fact that the school is in the middle of a desert takes it up a notch. At the time of this post she's just a couple of weeks into her second trimester and she's still sporting a six-pack. There are claims her "skinny jeans"* no longer fit, but skinny jeans won't fit her after we spent four dollars at Taco Bell (which, admittedly, is a considerable amount of food).
     I'm a nice guy. I'm a giver. So I pitch in because I love her and I want to show it. Then, while hoisting laundry from the car I already packed to the second car she now wants it in, it hits me: this is a test! It's gotta be! My wife, the model for independent women of the 21st century, asking me to help carry laundry? I don't think so! She wants to know if I'm going to be able to pull my (literal) weight when the baby gets here.
     Apparently, there is a massive amount of pure and unadulterated stuff that goes into moving a baby from point "A" to point "B". I've heard some names the "stuff" has, but I can't pretend to remember them all. What I do know is, the world will stop if any one of those things gets left behind. So who's going to be loading up all this "stuff"? Well, yours truly! And you know what? I'm totally up for it. Can't wait. Bring it on!
     I'm gonna kick the stuffing out of moving baby stuff. I'm gonna make a Velcro suit and just stick everything that kid owns to my body. I'll be a walking baby daycare, one man band, DDR machine. Maybe.
     Then again, maybe she just wants me to move stuff for her because all I'm doing is watching tv.
It's probably that last one.

*"Skinny Jeans" define the type of pant, not the person in them. This is a critical distinction to make when dealing with a woman who, for whatever reason, can no longer fit in them. It's not that she's "not" skinny, it's just the jeans are too skinny. Trust me, gentlemen, this will save you lots of pain. Lots. Of. Pain.