Continuing Education

I attended the first day of birth classes in preparation for having a baby girl in February. My theory was that we could surely learn all of this on Youtube or Google but that is without doubt simply my blind faith in trying to not cut into my Monday Night Football schedule. My first impression: Sunday school with vaginas. Our sweet teacher is seriously the church lady with a bunch of weird, contrived and sometimes disturbing props, pictures and stories. Her thin frizzy hair, flower dress and lunch lady shoes will certainly not make anyone start humming the Van Halen tune 'hot for the teacher.' Upon entering the room there was a lovely sign on a tripod that we learned is our mantra for the course. The sign reads: Women are made to give birth, trust in yourself. Seems like a weird mantra for me, but I rolled with it, and will continue to do so for the next 5 weeks! This sign, seriously made me wonder if Michael Scott would come strolling in for some kind of intervention, but I was not so lucky.

Well, the two hours flew by like a root canal in a burning airplane; and after watching a riveting demonstration of a plastic doll shooting out of a knitted sweater sleeve I was really starting to learn. I believe the sweater was the uterus, the cuff was the cervix and doll was the baby. (If you need more detail on any of those terms, your probably not old enough to read this blog.) Of course, this came after she told us about how you don't need any drugs when you give birth and chased that act with a picture of here 9 pound grandson at birth!!! Seriously, I'm not the one giving birth here, but if you asked me to blow a bowling ball out my butthole it's likely going to be a tough sell with out a lot drugs, 128 beers or a louisville slugger to the melon to persuade me on the idea. I just kept reading the mantra......

We then laid on the ground to practice relaxation with the lights off and soft music in the background. We couldn't look at each other because we were going to die laughing which kind of reminded me of my first yoga experience. I was well behaved and didn't cut loose a giant fart, which would have been pretty sweet (see Ryan Broshar), and I could have easily said I was just relaxing my entire body. I restrained myself from raising my hand about 237 times over the course of the class as there were so many opportunities for lighthearted remarks and off color comments. As my wife says, I am just a 5 year old in a 32 year olds body. Good times.