I started out working on a more non-standard blog post. I was going to script out a fake dialogue between Janelle and me and a daycare center person where they answer all of our questions in the worst possible way. I might still try and crank that out, but I’m not doing so hot with crafting up snappy dialog lately.

So, instead, I’ll relate a brief tidbit I found amusing and then amble into a short couple of paragraphs that actually have something to do with the post title. Isn’t this the most exciting post ever?

Today at our Bradley class, we closed things, as usual, with a relaxation exercise. These all involve the mother receiving a massage from the father and have some variants applied. Today’s was that we were intended to provide mental relaxation along with the physical. So, as we are massaging, we’re supposed to relate to her a soothing scene and try to get her to focus on that and relax her body.

So, as I lean over Janelle and massage her shoulders I whisper to her: “You’re on a beach, and the sun is shining and warm and the wind is gentle, but just enough to cool your skin. The sand beneath your feet is soft and hot on the top, but as your feet sink in, the sand begins to get colder and more refreshing. You look around and there are monkeys everywhere. Hundreds of monkeys. And they’ve all got on suits of armor and they’re having a grand swordfight. Too violent? Okay. There are monkeys everywhere. And they’re all riding on ponies. And eating popcorn. Monkeys as far as the eye can see. Soooo relaxing.”

This is what Janelle has to deal with.

Now, to topic…

Janelle is pretty officially in the nesting stage. She specifically wanted to be the one to assemble the baby’s crib because she wants to begin putting her stamp on the nursery. I think that I have also entered into the male form of nesting: territoriality.

We are by nature social creatures, so I don’t mean that I’m scaring off the neighbors and trying to eat their children to ensure my dominance in the pack. I am, however, finding myself quick to defend our little homestead. I’m noticing this most in the arena of creepy-crawlies. It sounds silly, but it seems to be a measurable change. I’m pretty quick to act in snuffing out pests whereas previously it was something I would tackle grudgingly, always kind of hoping Janelle would feel like doing it herself rather than asking me to handle the dirty work. Now, though, bugs are intruders. They are both a blemish on the investment that is this home and a danger to my impending offspring. So I set phasers to kill.

I even killed a black widow the other day. Granted, it was done with a can of RAID and then a shovel to finish the job—it’s not as if we engaged in single combat with switchblade knives—but I hate me some spiders (HATE) and it wasn’t even something I blinked about. I knew in a very rational way that while a black widow wouldn’t be a problem for me even if I were to be bitten (I’m too large and not so foolish as to forego treatment on a bite), it would likely be a very big problem for an expectant mother like Janelle.

I won’t be placing pikes in the front yard onto which I can impale my conquests as a warning to other interlopers, but I was pleased to note that my immediate reaction to protect my home and my family, from even a very small danger, was there. Janelle can build the crib… I’ll start setting up the turrets.

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