I'm About to be a FATHER!!!

Move over coolest person in the world.  In late February you will play second fiddle to the next generation Expat Jon.  Ouff!  There's a bad muthashutyomouth brewing in Swedie's stomach and I can't wait to unleash him/her on the world.  Being that we're now in the second trimester and I'm allowed to share with you, here's how the journey has gone so far:

So I'm chilling at work and I get a phone call from Swedie.  I'm a little busy, but decide to take the call.
    What's up?
    Jon.  I've been feeling funny lately and my friend said to take a pregnancy test and I took it.  And, it says I'm pregnant.

Now, my reflex/instinct is to panic.  Go into defense mode and see exactly what this chick's motive is.  Ask is she sure.  Get a calendar...

Wait a minute.  This is your wife!  The two of you pillow-talk about growing your family together all the time before you fall asleep mid-conversation and she nudges you so you can sleep on your stomach to stop all that damn snoring.  This is the plan!  You're freaking happy!!!  You'll never forget today.    She probably needs to hear your happiness.  She's likely scared.  Wow, you're thinking like an adult now.  Say something.

So I did.  I told her that I was happy.  I awkwardly said, "Congratulations." WTF?  My mind was racing.  A bit of happiness.  A bit of disbelief.  A bit of fear.  All at the same time.  A shocked me hung up the phone.  My boss must have seen the shock on my face.  She asked was I alright and I said, "I think I'm going to be a father."  She was so happy it made me just smile.  My world was officially changed.  Baby names weren't going to just be thrown around anymore.  Shit just got real.  I was sent home to be with my now-expecting wife.  Wow.

On my way to the subway, I felt I had to call my best friend here.  I just needed to talk to someone.  To my boy.  Get his perspective on the whole thing.  He was too busy to talk.  I got his voicemail.  It wouldn't be right to just leave a message.  Damn.  I hope he calls me back.  Just then I got a message from Swedie.  "Don't tell anyone."  Sheeeeit.  I'm gonna tell my boy.  That's my dude.  Even though he didn't pick up the phone, but that's my dude and I'm sure he was busy.  And who is she anyway to tell me what to do?  It's OUR baby!  I can tell who I want.  Plus her best friend was there when she peed on the stick to find out.  Why can't I tell my best friend?  I needed to set her straight on the rules and regulations of this situation before it got out of hand.  You know.  Put her in check!  So I wrote back, "Ok." Then I called my boy again.  But he didn't answer.  I know he's busy at work but this is an emergency.  So I called my next bestie.  My dude!  He works at night.  No excuse.  He should answer.  Plus I had to cancel lunch with him.  He answered.  I told him.  He was excited!  Showered me with "congrats'" and "that's cools" and verbal high fives.  Okay.  That was cool.

I texted my first friend, "Got a baby on deck."  He called me a few minutes later asking me what that meant.  I told him it means what you think it means.  I'm going to be a father!  You're going to be a play-play uncle!  Man, he was excited.  I swear this was what I needed.  I'm used to people being worried or not so happy.  Or even asking, "Were you trying?"  But so far everyone was immediately excited for us.  As they should be.  Everyone in both of our circles of family and friends was happy.  This is freaking exciting!

Sinking In

It took a while for it to sink in.  Maybe until the baby gets here, it won't fully sink in.  Swedie's in tip top shape so she is just now starting to show.  Either that, or we're having a midget.  But then again... what if we have a midget?  What if the child is really annoying?  What if the child is somehow a Jersey douchebag?  Man, I have to be ready for all of this.  I always (as in the beginning of this entry) assume that my kid is going to be a cool football star/head cheerleader like in the movies.  But I have to be ready for the possibility that none of that happens.  I can't have the kid thinking I'm disappointed.  Shit, I wasn't a football star or a cheerleader!

We've already come to terms with the fact that the child growing in her stomach is going to be psychologically destroyed by us.  I think that's the first step.  Now we just have to focus on making it as minor damage as possible.  I want our child to be smart, charming, nice, cool and all that jazz.  Of course, I'll think my baby's beautiful on the inside, but it would be nice if my child was cute.  I promise to keep it real, though.  If I have an ugly baby, I'm not going to be putting all of my social media friends in an awkward position by posting a bunch of pictures up of my ugly baby.  Then people would have to use code phrases.

"Well isn't that precious?" or "What a nice outfit!" or "She's got so much hair!"

Hopefully that won't be the case.  Either way, I'll do my best to make this child - that I'm responsible for - as smart and prepared for this cold, cruel world as possible.  And here in Stockholm that's more than an 18 year task.

The Reality of It All

I was set up!  Swedie had an elaborate plan that worked.  I'm not mad about it at all.  She knew better than me what was best for us.  I think that's a wife thing.  She had kept us on the list here (ouff! I will get into that shit in a future entry.) for an apartment the entire time we lived in the US.  She conveniently stopped taking her birth control just before we moved here.  But as I said, she knew what was best.  She knew that my concern about paying for college would be met by free university in Stockholm.  She knew that the virtually non-existent crime rate is ideal for rearing children.  She knew as I did that for the most part, the primary/secondary education system SUCKS in the US (so sad but so true).  The year paid maternity/paternity leave and monthly government pay to the child only add logs to the fire.  This is the PERFECT place for raising children!  So she wins likely the most important argument in our marriage and now my "Man Room" is being converted into a freaking nursery for a person that can't even enjoy it for the first 6-10 months of his/her life.  And I can't be more happy about this reality.  I'm going to be a father!  Until next time...


  1. Congrats both of you, and I'm sure with a mom that looks like our Sass, the kid can't be anything than adorable and Believe me. I've seen som ugly kids where I had to pretend it was a cute one.... So happy for you!

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