The diapers are lined up neatly in the gray and white striped caddy. The burp cloths, blankets, and cute little baby onesies have all been washed and folded, stacked in an orderly pile next to the changing pad. The bassinet is set up next to my side of the bed and is covered in aluminum foil, which is meant to deter Breakfast and Buffalo (our cats).
For the past several months, we’ve been slowly collecting the essentials in preparation for Big Snack’s debut on planet earth. Instead of doing homework, I’ve spent nights going down internet rabbit holes, researching the best types of diaper wipes, baby bathtubs, and car seats. I look and feel as if I’ve swallowed a watermelon. It is time and we are ready.
Oh, how I’ve dreamt of that first day home from the hospital, when we walk into our apartment with Big Snack in arms and our lives are forever changed.
The literal shitstorm and bundle of joy headed our way terrifies (and thrills) me beyond measure. I’ve been compulsively ordering the above mentioned baby supplies in order to feel some semblance of control over what’s about to happen to my life (not to mention my body). I’ll confess: I ordered the diapers and baby wipes three months before Big Snack’s due date. Now, all that’s left to do is wait. But with the waiting comes the fun part: stocking the fridge.
We found out I was pregnant only a few short weeks after our wedding day, which abruptly put a halt to our raucous and bubbly newlywed celebrations. Moving on to other serious life events so quickly was sobering, literally and figuratively. All of a sudden we had to plan the birth of our child along with finishing grad school and moving back to New England, all of which were set to happen in the same month. Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about that first deep guilt-free pull from a cold IPA for a very long time.
After 9 months of abstinence, which happened to coincide with my first foray into beer writing, I have lot I want to accomplish when I return to the land of the sauce. In my time with Hop Culture, I wrote about gose, gueuze, and gruit without indulging in a single drop of the three varieties. I spent many nights drooling over my keyboard, longing for a lager or an IPA on my tongue to inspire my words on the page. To write about beer while sober, not to mention navigating the world as such, has been a subtle form of torture. Surely if can make it through nine months of this, motherhood is going to be a breeze. Right?
In addition to at least two weeks worth of freezer burritos, there will be a boozy IPA (possibly a Bell’s Two Hearted Ale, or if I’m lucky, a Night Shift Morph) and a lighter pale ale for easy drinking, maybe a Tuckerman’s Pale Ale (if I’m really lucky) or even just a simple sixer of Dale’s. My goal is to start basic and work my way back in and up to the more complex stuff, like the goses and the gueuzes. I’m a planner, what can I say? With the basics covered (the basics being diapers, burritos, and beer) the rest should be a breeze. Bring it on Big Snack, we can’t wait to meet you.
