2 Centimeters

This past Tuesday, Dave and I went to the doctor. This week actually was the first in a string of last visits to our OB-GYN. Throughout this entire pregnancy, we’ve gone in to see her once a month. Then last month they told us she needed to see us once every two weeks. And in this final month, she has requested to see us once a week. This concentration of visits to her office signals that we are almost there. This baby is coming. Soon.

Anywho, this past Tuesday we went in for our first last visit. I thought she would probably check me to see if I was dilated in any way, but I had no expectations that anything was actually happening. I mean, I was just over 36 weeks—not even full term by today’s 37 week standards. I hoped something was happening, but expected nothing.

And then she told me I was dilated 2 centimeters.

This is my baby and me at 2 centimeters

2 Centimeters! Dude!

Now, I’ve never been pregnant before, but I literally have read the book and seen the movie (and taken the class, and talked to the many mommies), and from what I understand, the ultimate dilation goal is 10 centimeters. So 2 centimeters, well that’s 20% of the way! I realized I was actually on the road to labor. My body had been prepping me for the trip, and I didn’t even know it.

Dude!

The doctor told me that this didn’t mean I’d deliver early. In fact, she couldn’t even venture a guess at when I would deliver. She said these things, but I didn’t hear her. All I heard was – 2 centimeters! 20% of the way!

Dave and I drifted out of the office in a happy daze. Well, I was in a happy daze, I think he may have just been in a daze...

Dave writes: Actually, what I was thinking about was how an early baby was going to mess with my very carefully crafted schedule. Who was going to sub my gigs? What was I going to do about my scheduled recording sessions? We needed to pack the hospital bag. I haven’t put the spare on the baby bus yet. Doesn’t this baby know WE HAVE A PLAN ALREADY?? Then I gradually realized that this meant those plans might fade into so much iCal dust and were going to see little our little girl very soon. And that was cool too.

We were actually going to have a baby. Dude! A baby!

I immediately went on super high labor alert. Every baby wiggle meant she was assuming the birth position. Every minor ache or pain was a sign of early labor. Sure the doctor had said she couldn’t predict when the baby would come, but I could. And the baby was coming right now.

It’s now Saturday morning, and I’m sitting in bed, surrounded by the millions of pillows that are required to help me sleep at night, and I’m still very pregnant. I’ve not gone into labor. I’ve not even had any fake-out labor pains (the books say they’d feel like real ones only they wouldn’t be a regular intervals). My water hasn’t broken. Right now, I’m just waiting.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve turned a Zen corner, and I am at home with the idea that the baby will come whenever she’s ready. That I’ve realized that my job is to treasure these last couple of days or weeks of pregnancy, rather than sit with baited breath waiting for my child to arrive. That I am cool, man.

I realize all these things, and sometimes even believe them. The rest of the time, I’m wondering if this gas pain is maybe not a gas pain, but maybe a labor pain. Because, dude, that would be so awesome, and I am so ready for labor and so ready to meet my baby girl! Let’s do this thing!!!!!

Maybe I’m not cool in the traditional sense. But I’ve decided that accepting the uncool is the actually the new cool. And hey, it’s just how I roll when I’m 2 centimeters dilated.

Buying the Baby Bus -- An Epic Tale Part 5. The Final Chapter

And now, the final chapter!

Dave and Elizabeth, ecstatic at the prospect of buying their dream vehicle

Step 5: Every Dog Has His Day

Back to the web. And back to the bank. This time we wanted to get approved for an already converted vehicle before we did anything else. We had already looked at a couple vehicles that looked pretty good down in New Braunfels, TX so we used those as examples of what we wanted. I marched in there armed to my financial teeth with all sorts of tax returns and legal documents. We even had lour baby's ultrasound with us in case they wanted to check her out too.
“Approved!" said the banker.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.” said the banker.
“Are you really, really sure.” I asked.
“Sir?” said the banker
“Never mind.” I said

Now we were really ready.

Flashback to two months earlier. We had headed down to New Braunfels, about 45 miles south of Austin, to check out some class B RV’s. We test-drove a couple but only one was looking good. We hadn’t made an offer but the asking price seemed within our range and the vehicle was nice and clean with only 30,000 miles on it. So now, back to the present, we decided to give the van another look. Since we had looked at it we had found it was fairly priced compared to similar vans we had seen on the internet (with the exception of that great van in Vegas. That one was perfect) and it was right in our back yard. No flights, no interstate legalities, no scams. We were steeled for the deal. We decided how much we wanted to spend and, by God, we weren’t going to go over that. We were in the catbird’s seat. We had the funding. There were other vehicles we could get for the same amount. No one was going to push us around.

And when we got to the dealership there was another couple looking at the van!! And they went into the office to make an offer!! No!!!!! We paced around nervously for a while and waited for the other couple to leave. We heard the salesman say “You think it over and let me know” and then he shook their hands. The door was open.

When the salesman came back we started to talk turkey.

“Did you want to test drive it?” he asked
“No. Already did that,” we said firmly
“Did you want to see this other one?” he asked.
“No.” We said even more firmly. “We want this one for this much (we really should have written the figure down on a piece of paper and slid it over to him. Maybe next time).

He disappeared into his office. The figure we had offered was substancially less than they were asking. A little extreme but we’re talking the catbird seat. He came back with his offer. $1,500 more than we asked. My heart was beating. A small smile curled my lips.

“We’ll have to talk it over,” Elizabeth said.
NOT!

We took it and were overjoyed with the deal.

Apparently the salesman’s father was not so overjoyed. We had apparently arrived at the dealer when the responsible parties were not present because the deal we made was far lower than any that had ever been offered for that van. Finally! A break. So we sent down the used car inspectors. We did our walk around and signed the papers. We now have a big ol’ baby bus sitting in front of our house.

I just have to trim the branches just to get the darned thing into the driveway.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Buying the Baby Bus -- An Epic Tale Part 3 and 4

And now back to Dave the Amazing WonderDad, as he spins an entrancing yarn about the purchase of our largest vehicle to date. Today, money matters and the SCAM!

Dave and Elizabeth rock out at the baby shower!

Step 3: The line of credit

Always listen to your father. That is what my father told me and that is what I’m going to tell my daughter. And my father told me to get a line of credit. He swears by them and the interest is tax deductible. What could be wrong with that?

We have some equity in our house so I didn’t think it would a problem. So armed with the feeling that we had good credit (no freecreditreport.com for us) we called up the bank lending line.

“You’re looking good,” said the voice on the other line, “No need to include your wife’s income on the application.”

“We’re in, baby” I said with a wink and a knowing grin when I hung up. “The guy was talking football and San Diego. We’re pals.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Sanger,” said the next guy I talked to. Was this dude the first guys boss? I wasn’t quite sure, and may never know. “It looks pretty good but we will need your wife’s income too. We will need to start a whole new application.”

Grrrr. That first guy wasn’t my pal after all.

So we did the application over.

“You’re looking good,” said the woman’s voice on the other end. What was her relation to the first to men I spoke to. Who knows?!? Such is modern banking.

“Yessss,” I said.

“You have been approved” said the next voice, male or female, I wasn’t sure.

The old man was right again.

Now we had a source of money that would allow us to purchase the vehicle we wanted from any source. Dealer or private seller and we wouldn’t have to worry about financing. This was very important because we had picked out our dream vehicle…

Step 4: What could possibly go wrong?

Those were the words we actually said. Or should I say I said. From researching the internet for used class B motor homes built on Dodge Sprinter bodies I found the holy grail -- a 2006 Pleasure Way Plateau with all the trimmings. I’m talking rear view camera, people! Cherry wood interior for the Mrs. Did I mention only 22,000 miles? And here’s the kicker: This ride was $12,000 less and 2 years newer than the vehicles we had seen in Texas. Sure it was in Vegas but that wasn’t going to be a problem.

The seller had emailed me back with the promise that I would love this vehicle. All I had to do was transfer the money to an Ebay escrow account and the seller would ship the van down at his expense. I would then have 5 days to decide whether I wanted to keep the vehicle and if I didn’t want it he would ship it back! What could possibly go wrong?

Sure the guy kept saying he was selling it for charity (we figured the guy need a tax dodge or something), and his name was Jhon (not John), and he never seemed to answer my questions. This was too good to be true.

As fate would have it I was going to be in Las Vegas in a couple weeks! I happily emailed him and proposed that we meet in Vegas, I could give the van a look-over and save him the shipping in case it was no good. Not only this, I’d be armed with a line of credit that would allow me to buy this baby outright.

“You will be very pleased with this vehicle,” he replied. “If you would like to start this transaction please give me your shipping information and I will tell you how to transfer the money.”

“But I would like to see the vehicle,” I replied. “Can I meet you on the 1st?”

“If you wish to start this transaction I will reserve the boat for you.”

Excuse me?!?! The boat?!??!

It was about this time that Elizabeth emailed me with details of an internet scam that sounded very much like this. Scammed like a couple of rubes. How embarrassing.

Now about this time the phone rings. It’s the bank on the line.

“We’re sorry Mr. Sanger. We cannot give you a line of credit.”

“Wha?”

“Yes you have been approved but there is a law in Texas that doesn’t allow someone who has already borrowed on their home to do it again. You can refinance but you cannot have a line of credit.”

So let’s recap: We went from having the perfect vehicle and having the financing for it to not having any vehicle and having no financing at all, all in the space of a few short hours. What could go wrong indeed.

Elizabeth’s two cents: Sometime the universe figures it out for you. I’m pretty certain that if the bank had handed us the money right away, hassle free, we would have sent it directly to Jhon. We would have sent it to Jhon to purchase a vehicle that only ever existed as an internet scam dream. Thank you universe!

We interupt your regularly scheduled programing...

I thought I might give Dave a breather, and cut in with a quick non sequitur. Just a shout-out to the best city in the world -- the city that Dave and I love and will raise our child in -- Austin, Texas. I have her loved from the first time I drove down her sometimes strangely pronounced streets. I love her for being a artist attractor. I love her for allowing people to do their thing, without judgement. I love her, even though she seems to have grown a whole new culture, based around expensive condos and a big city mentality. I love her for her undeniable Texas-ness, for her cowboy boots and breakfast tacos and her hint of a drawl. I love her for the Austin Banjo Band, who just had a show at the Farmers Market this morning:




I'm sure there are a ton of Banjo Bands out in the world. Or maybe not. All I know is, some sunny Saturday morning in the not so distant future, my little girl will have the chance to rock out to 10 to 15 banjos and one bitchin tuba. It makes me so excited to be a mom to be, and so happy to live in Austin, that I just had to let the interweb know all about it.

Buying the Baby Bus -- An Epic Tale Part 2

And now we return you to your regularly scheduled drama. Today on Miles and Miles of Diapers, Dave the Amazing WonderDad continues his harrowing tale of what we went through in securing a baby bus:

Dave and his best friend John Wayne

Step 2: Forecloses are good times for deals We were in San Francisco and we get this email about a dude who has 3 Sprinter vans for sale. His business is going into bankruptcy and these vans are going to be repossessed. Well we already knew we wanted to outfit a Sprinter and we knew a company in Austin that could do it for us. I emailed and called and the guy (Let’s call him Bob) and he, emailed back and said that yes, indeed, he wanted to get rid of the vans and he had to do so within 20 days. They were gently used and had some custom work done on them already. Electrical wiring, carpet. We figured this would be perfect. We could get the vehicle at a bargain basement price, fix it up in Austin and be all set. All we had to do was get financing from our bank, fly up to Ft. Collins, buy the van and drive it home. Simple.

Well it is never that simple, is it? Banks have their rules and one of those rules is that the Dodge Sprinter is a commercial vehicle.

“We are not buying this for a business,” we explained. “We are going to use this van to drive to work, wherever that may be.”
“Denied,” said the bank. “This is a commercial vehicle.”
“This is so lame,” we replied (to ourselves).

Whereupon we went to the business division of the same bank and once again explained our situation.

“We want to take the van and convert it,” we explained.
“I totally get it,” said the very nice guy from the bank “and this shouldn’t be a problem. Give us the info on the van and we’ll get back to you.”

Great. Now time has been ticking and “Bob” said he needed to sell within a week. That didn’t leave us much time. We had already purchased some pricey plane tickets up to Ft. Collins and we were planning on getting up there and doing the deal in an hour after we landed. This would involve money transfers and some interstate mumbo-jumbo. Oh yeah. We needed to pay for an appraisal. So we’re coming down to the wire and we get the approval back….for about half of what “Bob” wanted for the van. I gave him the bad news but left the door open for negotiation. He quickly shut that door. Three weeks of emails, phone calls and bank visits and the deal was over. On to Step 3.

More tomorrow...

Buying the Baby Bus -- An Epic Tale Part 1

So, here at Miles and Miles of Diapers, we don't just hit you with the Mommy Perspective. We've also got some serious Daddy Input. After all, we are living in the 21st century, where equal parenting extends all the way into cyberspace. So without further ado, I present to you...Dave, the amazing WonderDad. He's going to tell you the saga of the trials and tribulations we went through in trying to find the baby bus that was right for us (From now on, Dave's posts will be blue!)

Dave the amazing WonderDad

It is true that men cannot bear children. I know. I’ve tried. But there is something we are genetically programmed to do, and that is research and purchase large vehicles. I’m not saying women can’t do this. It is just that they do not have the gene that allows them to look through pages and pages of used car ads without a flicker of complaint. This is a man’s game. Or so I thought.

Step 1 : Exactly what you want. So there are these Sprinter vans made by Dodge. They also carry the Mercedes and Freightliner brands but they are the same vehicles. And you can make them into RV’s. Class B RV’s. And there is a company in Austin that will convert Sprinters and do it exactly how you want it done. And they are really nice folks too and I’m thinking this is a match made in heaven. We sat down with a guy at the company and he took us through the whole process. You pick out the van you want, the general layout and then just pick out the options. Bathroom? Sure. Extra chair? Why not? Generator? You only live once! It wasn’t long before we had designed our dream vehicle. It was sweet and decked out too. And really expensive. I’m not talking kind of. I’m talking really. But they would finance it. Over 15 years. Geez. This is starting to look bad and we just started the process.

Wait a minute. Lightbulb. We’re looking for sponsors. These folks need to advertise right? We could trade out the vehicle, maybe. We wrap the bus in an ad for the local Sprinter conversion company, and they give us a Sprinter for free! Well maybe not free, but for cheap. I doesn’t hurt to ask. We ask and…no deal. They would be happy to sell us the van but sponsorship was not in the cards. On to step 2.

More tomorrow...

Baby Bus Breakdown

Ah, the baby bus. Our new home away from home.

Now, it’s not really a bus, per se. A bus is big and roomy and expensive, and gets really bad gas mileage. A bus is like a small apartment on wheels, complete with a kitchen, a bathroom, hang-out rooms and sleeping areas. You can walk around on a bus and stretch your arms out wide or lie down somewhere fully and blissfully extended.

Behold! The Bus.

Sometimes, in a bus, you may miss out on the scenery you’re driving through. Not a bad thing if you’re driving down Any-highway America, or Central Stripmall-landia. But it can be a bummer when you realize you just missed the purple mountain’s majesty because the blinds were closed and you were busy watching “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.”

If you can’t stand the people in one part of the bus you can go to another part to get away. And if you can’t stand anyone on the bus anymore you hide out in your bunk which, although small, provides you with an alone place –- something I have found to be vital for road survival.

Now the vehicle we bought isn’t exactly a van either. A van is smaller and more maneuverable than a bus. It gets way better gas mileage. But you can’t really get up and walk around in a van. You can lie down, but only the shorter of the species can stretch out their bodies. And you can’t really cook or go to the bathroom in a van without jerry rigging some kind of ingenious device.

Behold! A Van.

With the right group of people, touring in a van can be better than the best experience of your life. The closer setup lends itself to constant bonding. You’re either having intimate discussions, cracking jokes, listening to music together or just digging on the world that you can all see through the window. One time, on an eight hour drive from Lafayette, LA to Marble Falls, TX, my most excellent guitar-playing friend David read all of Bob Dylan’s “Chronicles Volume 1” aloud to the rest of us while we rolled down the road, every once in a while slipping into his best Dylan impersonation, just for effect. It was an eight hour drive, and he read to us for almost the full eight hours. By the time we got to the gig, he barely had a voice and we all had insight into the mind of the master. It was awesome.

Needless to say, with the wrong group of people a van tour can be, um, trying. You can’t run, you can’t hide, and the miles can stretch on and on. I’ll just say that it was in vans that I learned the limits of my coolness.

Now, what we’ve bought is an amalgam of a bus and a van; a hybrid if you will. We’ve basically got body of a Dodge/Mercedes/Sprinter van (three different names, one vehicle), and the interior of an RV. The ceiling is tall enough for most people to stand fully in (except our boss, Ray Benson, who is the worlds tallest boss). Right behind the driver’s seat is a little mini couch. There’s a mini kitchen area and a bathroom area that has a toilet/shower combination so food and the after effects of food and drink are taken care of. And there are benches in the back that pull down into a queen-size bed. The way our Sprinter is set up is the couches in the back are separated from the driver and passenger seats by the kitchen and bathroom area which means, you guessed it, the ability to put some space between passengers.

Behold! The Baby Bus!

Sounds like a bus right. Yes it does…except it’s way smaller, and the gas mileage is an incredible 18-22mpg!

So there you have it, a bit a bout the baby bus. Not to big, not to small – for our little family unit, it’s just right.

BUSting Loose

So we did it. We made the dream a reality. We executed a part of the plan. We put our money where our mouths are. We stepped up. We took the proverbial plunge.

We bought the baby bus.

To celebrate this grand event, we thought you might like a little photo tour of or most exciting morning.

We got up and ate a little breakfast, even though our tummies were filled with anticipatory butterflies


We drove from Austin to New Braunfels. It was our last drive as non-baby bus owners!


We got to Stahmann RV. Check out this sweet aerial shot of the dealership.



We signed the papers, official making us baby bus owners. Then we gave Chrisite from Stahmann a hug and big thank you so much



We got the grand tour from of our new home away from home from Ruben. There's a lot to this whole baby bus thing.



And we drove home, masters of our own bus.


Dude, we are so doing this. Now all we need is a baby, and we're ready to rock the open road!

Doctor Feelweird

Today, I made an appointment to meet with a pediatrician. Apparently, you need to set up the whole baby doctor thing before you give birth. Like, well before, you give birth. Like, when you’re five or six months pregnant. That way you have plenty of time to research, get to know the doc. Add it to the list of things we didn’t know before we got pregnant, and didn’t really understand until just recently. Dave and I aren’t great instruction readers.

So here I am, seven and a half months big, scheduling an appointment that will take place one month before our baby’s due date. We can’t meet any earlier because of the impending Thanksgiving holiday coupled with the fact that Dave is on the road for the first half of next week, and we have gigs during the second half. So I hope we like the doc. And I really hope our baby isn’t super early in coming.

Dave and me on the cusp of parenthood

But what is really strange was realizing that I’m trying to find a doctor who will pretty much deal exclusively with our little bean. I mean, throughout this entire pregnancy, I’ve been making appointments for us, and by us I mean the whole family unit. The OB/GYN, the doula, the birthing class, they’re all there to help me, my husband and our baby get ready for the biggest transition of our lives. (Just a shout out to the husband, he has made every scheduled doctor/doula/class appointment thus far. He deserves mad props). But the pediatrician will be there to attend only to our baby. Our baby will have her own doctor! She will be separate from me, her own little self of a being, so much so that she needs her own medical practitioner. This really puts it all in perspective.

To quote David St. Hubbins: “There’s too much fucking perspective now”

Best Band Ever

Not really, but almost. Dave and I want this baby. We’re super excited to meet her littleness and embark on the big life adventure with her. But we’re also a little, um, what’s the word?...terrified. Because if there’s one thing that everyone who’s ever had a child will tell you – one piece of advice that you will never get conflicting opinions about – it’s that having a baby changes everything. And it changes it all in ways you can’t even imagine.

You know what’s so frustrating about hearing this again, and again, and again…and again? It’s that there’s not really anything you can do about it. How can you prepare for the unpreparable? It’s not like they’re saying, “Dude, you have no idea how much things are going to change. But if you read this book and watch these videos and do some yoga and meditate twice a day, then you should have a pretty good handle on the situation. Nope, it’s just “Everything changes.” Over and over.

At least people have stopped telling me that my life is going to change much more than Dave’s. The first couple months of pregnancy were infuriating for me. You see, my husband and I play in the same band. It’s called Asleep at the Wheel. I’m one of the singers, and I play rhythm guitar. Dave is the drummer. We travel together on the same bus, we play the same gigs, we make the same money, essentially we have the same job…and yet when people found out we were going to have a baby they would always ask me if I was going to continue working after the baby came. Would I give up music? Would I be getting of the road? And sometimes, they didn’t ask. They just told me how it was. “Looks like you’re going to have to slow down huh?” “I guess you’ll be doing something else.”

Asleep at the Wheel onstage at the Austin City Limits festival 2007. I'm in the dress. Dave is behind the drumset

I’m am absolutely sure that during this seven and a half months of pregnancy not one person has ever asked Dave if he would still be drumming and traveling post baby. Not a one.

Now, I get it. Babies are tiny and fragile and typically someone stays at home with them, at least at first. And of course mom is going to stay home because she’s got the milk and the whole maternal imperative thing happening. And Dad goes out and makes the money. I get it. But why would that last more than a couple of months? I mean, I’m all for maternity leave, but after that, I totally planned on going back to work.

And hello! Do we not live in the 21st century? How could it not have crossed one single solitary person’s mind that after the first couple of months of maternity leave, that maybe Dave would want to get off the road and rock the house husband position, while I made the money for the family, touring and playing music? I thought we lived in super liberal Austin! I thought the people were more evolved, man!

Not that I ever wanted to hit the road and leave Dave and the baby at home. I mean, I want to watch my baby grow into a toddler, into a kid, into a teenager. I want to be with her. And so does Dave. We want to be together, raising our child, you know, together. The way we figured we would do it? Take the baby on the road with us.

But people don’t take babies on the road…right?

Actually, before we got pregnant, Dave and I had always said we would take the baby with us on tour. Screw the common thoughts and practices. We were going to procure our own vehicle, throw the baby in a sling and drive ourselves around the country playing the Western Swing music.

Our dream van...sigh

And then I got pregnant. And everything changed really quickly. And no one really seemed to think this baby bus idea was a good one. And diesel got to like, $5 a gallon. It was too expensive. It would never work. We’d spend all our money staying on the road. And all of a sudden our dream seemed foolish.

I tore my hair and gnashed my teeth those first couple of months. I was not only going to have a baby, but I was going to have to give up my job. I was going to have to give up making a living as a musician, and playing with a band I really dig. I was going to have to get off the road, but my husband wasn’t (because, dude, we need some money right), so I was going to not only be careerless, but husbandless. I’d be raising a baby alone half the time.

Back when I thought all hope was lost

That was not what I signed up for when we started this whole endeavor.

At about 4 and a half months pregnant, at the height of the skyrocketing gasoline price ordeal (remember that? It seems so long ago, now that unleaded is down to $1.69 at the cheapy station down the street) Dave and I saw something on Good Morning America, or some such national morning show, about getting companies to subsidize your gasoline bill. They were talking about a site called http://www.freegashelp.com/ where you could get money in exchange for putting advertising on your car.

Dave and I both had a simultaneous “Eureka!” moment.

The biggest problem with the baby bus idea was the cost right? Well what if we hooked up with someone, some company, and did some advertising for them? What if we wrapped our vehicle in a big ad, and that would help us get and stay on the road? We could do it right? We could at least try.

I think I learned then one of the great lessons of life. That working towards something, whether or not you’re successful, makes everything better. I mean, we haven’t found a sponsor company yet, but we’re talking to people. Even better than that is that we are so doing this baby bus thing, sponsors or no. Having a workable idea, even a sketchy and un-thought through idea based on a cheesy morning tv show, rocketed us into action. We researched vehicles, mapped out touring strategies, started looking for sponsors…we made plans man. Now we’re on the cusp of actually buying said vehicle. I have date when I plan on going back on the road. This is going to go down, and it’s going to be doable.

One great asset we have is my family. They’ve agreed to come out on the first big trip we’ll be doing in February. Asleep at the Wheel is releasing a new record with Willie Nelson called Willie and the Wheel, and we’ll be doing an East Coast tour. My Dad will help drive, and my mom will help take care of the baby. This is key since we really can’t afford any driving/nanny help yet. My parents are committed to the idea that with family support and help, neither Dave nor I should have to stop doing what we love because of a baby. My mom worked the entire time I was growing up, and the both believe in the importance of work you are passionate about. In short, my parents are awesome. With their help, we’re making this baby bus thing happen.

Now people just tell us that we’re crazy.

That’s fine with me. No one has asked about me getting of the road permanently in months. They just ask me what my post baby plans are. I tell them about the baby bus. Some are supportive in the way that cool, righteous friends are supportive. The see the fun possibilities in the plan. Others nod their heads while obviously thinking to themselves “It’ll never work.” I’m down with either response.


Up to this point, our post baby plan has been all theory, no practice. I think things are always easier that way. But, I just made an appointment with a pediatrician. We’re really going to have a baby. The practice part of this experiment will be starting soon. And it’s so much bigger than going on the road or not going on the road. It’s having a child. Being primarily responsible for her health and well being. Helping her make that strange transition from solitary womb bound little bean to a member of the human race. Dude, this is like, for fucking real,