I remember the first time I stepped into a racquetball court with my semi-professional, father-in-law. As an average athlete I figured I could spend a couple of minutes learning the rules and rely on my youth (relatively speaking) to carry me to a competitive, if not triumphant, match.
Minutes later I recognized what I had not realized before climbing into that glass cage. I lacked the nuance, knowledge and humility to win. Before I was thrust into that cube of shame, I thought I might do OK. Once I was there, reality sharpened my discernment.
I fear I am making the same mistake with this baby. We have borrowed a bassinet, purchased a car seat, and been gifted more clothes than the GOP presidential front-runner. Mrs. Bluth is 8.25 months pregnant and sleeping less and less. We're at that point right before father-in-law serves a deceptively tranquil looking ball that unexpectedly ricochets in a different direction than the trajectory implies. I don't even realize how difficult this is going to be. I'm crouched in my stance thinking, "I got this! I'll just rely on my natural ability!"
We're run out of room in our apartment and the guest of honor hasn't even arrived yet. Once she does, once that surprise serve lands and sends me lurching the wrong direction, then I'll realize just how much I'm not prepared. That is when I'll realize that it'll take a lot of work to pick up the nuance, knowledge, and humility that other parents have already developed.
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