You know what I vowed to never write? A vasectomy post. No offense to those of you who’ve done it, but they’re all the same. Oooh. Can you believe it? I’m getting a vasectomy. That’s when they mess with your boys, man. Just think how bad that’s gonna hurt! Followed, of course, by an assortment of jokes about frozen peas. Nope. Not gonna write that post. Instead, I’m just gonna mind my own business over here and wait patiently for my vasectomy which is scheduled for December 1.
But Grand Finale was born in July. Why wait so long, you might wonder?
Well, Caroline was hoping to have a V-BAC, but we both knew there was a great chance she’d require a C-section. And if the hood was already gonna be up, might as well have the mechanic do a little multi-tasking a la some good ol’ fashioned tube tying, no? So waiting made sense. But on the day of Grand Finale’s birth, Caroline came through with flying colors no C-section was needed. Which meant that a vasectomy would be needed.
But a vasectomy carries with it a four-week recovery time and I couldn’t get one scheduled until mid September. And on October 19, I had a 62-mile backpacking trip on the books. No way could I stop working out for the four weeks leading up to it. And Caroline didn’t want the procedure to affect Thanksgiving. So when you add it all up, you get December 1.
Which, again, is a long time to wait. Plus it’s not like we were rocking some outrageous rabbit habit during the pregnancy. So suffice it to say that it’s been an extremely long time with no…no… you know. And I’m sorry, y’all, but even a camel needs a sip of water every now and again.
I know what you’re thinking: there are plenty of preventative measures that could help one with such a quandary. And indeed, there are. But it should also be pointed out that we have five kids, including triplet four-year-olds and an infant. Life is incredibly difficult right now we’re about to lose our minds. And while we’re thrilled that Grand Finale is on board (he’s such a delight, y’all), one thing’s for certain.
If we have any more children, they should put us in jail.
It’s for that reason that I refuse to employ any preventative measure aside from a permanent preventative measure. Because, let’s face it, I’ve already proven myself to be a man of astonishing virility, and with my luck, I’d knock Caroline up with quads which would suddenly make Kate Gosselin look like an empty nester.
SO, long story short, this camel doesn’t dare sip from the waters of amore out of morbid fear of the ripples he might accidentally create.
And that’s basically where I am right now. Waiting not-so-patiently for time to pass so that we can get back to business as usual, if you will. Which wouldn’t be that big of a problem were I not a writerly type. Because when a writerly type gets something stuck in his mind, like this entire thirsty-camel situation, it’s hard to carry on without obsessing over it. Or at least without putting some type of spin on it. Which, regrettably (if not deplorably), is exactly what I’ve done.
So, you see, this really isn’t a vasectomy post. It’s a post about the top 10 things that are strictly forbidden in our house until I get my vasectomy. Which means under no circumstances will the following be permitted:
1. The Upper Deck
2. Sigourney-ing the Weaver
3. Over Easy
4. The Man in the Canoe
5. Painting the Fence (also known as the Tom Sawyer)
6. The Egg Toss
7. Seattle Slew
8. The Halftime Hustle
9. Room with a View
and (my personal favorite)
10. Fiddler’s Cove
Wow. No Fiddler’s Cove. So harsh, y’all. Certainly leaves me in an awkward, um, position, no? And this thirsty camel analogy isn’t exactly helping, either. At least a thirsty camel still has a hump or two, for crying out loud.
Oh well. Such is the fate of the overly virile, I suppose.
*This post was sponsered by our couch, upon which I’ll likely be sleeping for the foreseeable future thanks to this tongue-in-cheek effort.
Image courtesy of Meneer Zjeroen via Creative Commons