Telling the Parents

I cannot tell a lie.  I also cannot keep a secret.  Don't trust me to.  Believe me, I'd rather not know than be told to keep quiet.  So immediately after the Sonogram technician lady officially rocked my world, I texted my buddy Jeff and told him the good news.

I realize this is a bit odd.  I probably should've called my parents or my best friend or somebody I've known for more than a year and a half.  So allow me to explain this.  

During the 2007 baseball season, I had the pleasure of working for a minor league baseball team.  The days were long, the pay well below minimum wage and the stadium I worked in was slowly falling apart around me.  That being said, it was the single greatest job I've ever had.  Jeff happened to be a lowly intern like myself.  He also happened to have a baby girl smack dab in the middle of the season.  So when Becca had the positive prego tests, I allowed myself to tell one person and one person only:  Jeff. 

Therefore he became the only person in my world who could actually convince me that this was not only a possibility, but a reality.  It also helped that he now lives in Birmingham and the few dozen acquaintances we share are scattered all over the country.  So even if Jeff can't keep a secret (as I've already admitted to being guilty of), it really won't affect me too much.  

When I met Jeff's wee little girl, Jordan, for the first time I was terrified.  I've held two babies in my entire life.  One was my sister, right after she was born and I was two.  I have no idea what in the hell my parents were thinking, but I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time.  The other was my nephew, Jackson.  I only held him long enough to awkwardly pose for a picture where my discomfort is easily visible.  I have Becca to thank for that one.

So Jeff laughed at my fear of his newborn daughter and said something to the effect of "she doesn't bite" but I didn't believe him.  She looked fierce.  Anyway, Jeff was my personal support group during the time I found out about the pregnancy so I sent him a message right away that said "So, um . . .  There's two of them."  By the time we were escorted to Dr. Brantley's office, I had a response:  "Holy sh*t!  Are you serious?!?!"

My feeling exactly.

So the next couple of minutes were spent discussing my potent sperm, our expectations for the next six or seven months, Becca's need to pack on about 40 pounds or so and I'm almost certain several vital pieces of information that I was too dazed to actually absorb.  I was just furiously texting Jeff and he obliged by repeatedly laughing at my shock.  How sweet of him.

At some point between the time we payed and the time we left the building Becca and I realized that daunting task No. 2 was now priority No. 1.  We actually had to tell our parents.  My original plan for telling our folks was this:  get them together and tell them we were getting a divorce.  Give that a few minutes to sink in and then say, 'Just kidding!  We're really pregnant!'  

It seemed like a good idea.  Then they would be twice as excited.  No divorce AND grandchildren.  That idea, however, was quickly vetoed (Becca feels that she now represents three voices in every vote).  So we decided to meet our folks on my lunch hour on Saturday.  I felt like we were leading our parents into an ambush.  Not only a baby, but two of the little buggers. . .

Saturday had finally arrived and we were standing in line at Sweet Pepper's Deli.  I was nervous so my hands were cold, my mouth was dry and I just knew the old folks had figured it all out.  Since our mom's birthdays are only a week apart, we said we got them presents that they had to open at the same time.  The fact that I suck at keeping secrets may not be directly tied to the fact that I suck at surprising people, but I think they're somewhat related.  

So I just knew they had it all figured out and were just being nice and letting us have our fun.  Becca had gone and bought two pairs of baby outfits for each mom and labeled them 'Surprise No.1' and 'Suprise No. 2'.  Apparently that's what three out of four had voted on, so that was our method.  Finally, as me, Becca and both sets of parents sat in a booth waiting on our food to come, I decided it was time.  The next few minutes were a blur so this is to the best of my recollection:

"Ok, it's time to open the presents." - Becca

"Yea, let's open 'em up!" - Mrs. Linda (Becca's mom)

It's at this point that I almost chum up the chili nachos I have so far finished off.  The tissue paper starts to ruffle and Becca and I just look at each other and start to laugh.  My mom gets to the onesie first.

"Oh, JESUS!"  

My mom isn't one to just go throwing that one around, yet alone at that volume in a crowded restaurant.  So I nearly pulled a Saved by the Bell by almost spraying the table with my most recent sip of water.

I don't really remember what Linda's reaction was, but I know Mr. David just kept repeating "Are you kidding?"

Becca chuckled and said, "No.  Keep going there's more."

Again, my mom found the wee little outfit first and burst forth with, "Holy Shit!"  

At this point people were starting to stare.  I kept begging my mom to keep quiet, but the battle was lost.  David was up and pacing.  At first he was rubbing his forehead, then his chest, then back to his forehead.  I thought we'd killed the poor guy.  He just kept mumbling to himself.  I think there were variations of 'Are you kidding?', 'No way' and 'I can't believe this' going on at this point.

Both moms were doing that weird laughing/ crying thing that only females seem to be able to do and Becca and I were just laughing.  My dad took it like a champ and just laughed through the whole thing before asking me, "Are there any more surprises?"

Thankfully, no, there were not.  I think that was plenty for one day.  David and Becca disappeared outside to go call her brother, Michael, while I was left with the moms and my dad to discuss all the whos, whats, whens, wheres and how in the hells.  The moms showed off the sonogram pictures to the waitress who served us and began planning the 2009 tailgating procedures with the new members.

After eventually getting a free piece of cheesecake because my sandwich never came, I returned to work and once again had to keep a secret.  It killed me to pretend like it was a normal lunch, but I do what I'm told.  After all, it is three against one.