Friday Morning Wood

Posted by Wood | Friday, December 01, 2006 |

There was some speculation in the last comment thread about whether Dutch's dialogue between the Dude and Maude was some sort of allegorical parody of the state of our marriage as well as The Big Lebowski. Well, you caught us. This much is true: we are the parents of a 22-month old, and thus by virtue of her age alone, one of the most common conversational traps Dutch and I fall into these days is Baby Number 2: Now or later? Over the last couple of weeks, they haven't been conversations as much as full-blown high school-style debates, with Dutch-as-the-dude on one side, blowing smoke and citing statistics and flicking his long hair out of his eyes, and my lady-parts on the other side of the debate, a muffled voice shouting their own statistics from their normally-silent lips through layers of satin and denim. I can't control the things that my uterus and her pals, my ovaries etc., say. On occasion they can be irresponsible, obnoxious bitches, and they are doing their best to beat my pothead husband into submission. But I will say it doesn't go quite like Dutch wrote it between the Dude and Maude Lebowski. It's more like this:

Dutch: We've just started to sleep well around this house, and I'm not ready to get kicked all night long again when you start sleeping like crap and waking up all night long all pregnant and uncomfortable and shit.

Wood's lady bits [waving the fallopian tubes around for emphasis]: How dare you complain about your sleep!! If we can handle nurturing an entirely separate lifeform in here, you can handle a few leg kicks in the nuts, dickhead.

Wood: I just don't want to wear maternity clothes again. Does that make me shallow?

Dutch: I'm afraid I physically won't be able to take as many pictures of the next baby as I have of Juniper. It will be impossible while wrangling a jealous older sibling. It won't be fair, and I'd be dooming any second child to years of therapy when she or he e-mails his or her therapist the URL of this blog's archives. And then the therapist will convince Baby #2 to hate me.

Wood's lady bits: Oh, we get it. This is all about you two. We're sitting here perfectly ready to swell and stretch and bleed and tear, and push the rest of Wood's viscera up into her lungs, and you're worried about stupid clothes and stupid pictures. Some people have a lot of growing up to do.

Dutch: I agree, lady bits. We need more time!

Wood: No, I mean, really. I guess there are more cute maternity clothes out there now than there were when I was pregnant with Juniper, but I have to wear business attire to work. I'm just not ready for that Liz Lange collection at Target again.

Wood's lady bits: Bitch!

Wood: Sluts!

Wood's lady bits: We can't help that!

Dutch: Ladies, ladies, let's not go overboard here.

Wood's lady bits: Shut up, you! Why don't you go write some stupid blog post that nobody will get, you coward! Run away, nancy boy, like you always do at this time of the month.

Dutch: [to Wood] Cripes, Wood, can't you just go on the pill until we decide the time is right?

Wood's lady bits: No, no! The time is right! Right now! Noooooow! Noooow. . .

So far, the lady bits are losing the debate. But given that we go through this conversation several times a week, that could change anytime. It's just a matter of time before they break Dutch down on the right day.