My water broke in Wal-Mart. Yes, the birthing water stuff, not the bottled water stuff. I have popped a water bottle in Wal-Mart. Two different spills.
It began in the back of the store, in Sporting Goods. I knew that I was having a boy, so I was just a little eager to buy him a football. When my water broke, I didn't know what was happening, so I nonchalantly walked from department to department hiding in the aisles. I had "wet pants syndrome."
I singlehandedly turned the entire store into a lake. Ducks and everything.
I worked as a radio personality at a radio station before I had my son. I had to be funny on air whether I was funny or not. There was no time to think. Being funny is an art, like dancing, except there is no music (ever), no choreography and no combination of me ever shall be a comedian. My handle was "Foxy T."
Besides the fact that my last name was "Fox" at the time, I was very foxy, but mostly my last name was "Fox." When I am nervous, my comedy skills come out, like skunks and possums do at night, only with my comedy the mange and rabies are usually not involved.
I always thought that comedy would be my ticket out of the flophouse. It wasn't.
I had sucked any and all life sources even remotely related to happiness or laughter out of the room.
Crickets didn't even bother chirping. I can't swear by it, but I think a mouse shot me the finger once. Not a good finger. The bad one.
At least I try and if I fail, I try again. I know people who won't even post on Facebook because they are afraid that their "friends" will laugh at them. Well, either they aren't really your "friends" or you are afraid to try. Maybe both.
If I had lived in medieval France they would probably have had one of those people reading a scroll to me. A scroll reader person.
As I lay on the floor and no one around me was laughing, I knew then, that this was serious.
Even the spiders crawling around on the floor were unusually well-behaved.
Life doesn't always seem to go into the direction I would like it to go into, but I had my beautiful baby boy. I know that he is here just to replace me. Out with the old and in with the new.
And I'm OK with that, too. Things do get better.
I am in this continual state of remote disbelief that the supply of well-behaved parents was exhausted and Someone made a bet on me that I would do a good job as a parent.
I admit that my comedy skills and my parenting skills can always be called into question, but the fact that my son is an amazing person and I am the luckiest person on the face of this Earth never will be.
My son never did play football.