Saturday was a big day for me, guys.
First, Rebecca Black released a "sequel" to her much maligned "hit" single, "Friday," aptly titled "Saturday." This raised a lot of questions to me about art, pop culture, and most importantly— our future as a country.
But probably more important than all that, this happened:
My sister (my best friend from ages 4-12) went into labor, and now I'm related to this baby. And I can't stop thinking about it.
Him. "Nathaniel James Laib." He's my nephew and I'm his uncle. This is the first baby I've ever been related to. I'm already taking the uncle thing pretty seriously.
Are any of you related to babies? Does the act of being related to a baby make any of you cry spontaneously and irrationally too? Because that's what's been happened to me. And I haven't even officially met this little guy yet.
How can anyone keep themselves from weeping uncontrollably when they're in the presence of babies? Dads and Moms and Aunts and Uncles and Cousins who are old enough to be considered Aunts and Uncles— how are you not crippled by guilt and worry and sadness and happiness and joy and love after peeping a single picture of one baby?
Luckily, Baby Laib was born white, male, middle class and presumably straight (I haven't asked yet), so he has a leg up on a lot of other babies for at least a little while. But regardless of his institutional advantages, the world is still a terrifying, awful, no-good place and I'm worried.
Forgetting about all of the unlikely scenarios that I don't have enough Klonopin to think about right now, he might still get bullied for— I don't know— not wanting to go on roller coasters or not being good at sports! He might get hurt playing sports because he's not good at them. He might get sick on a roller coaster or the Giant Drop and then bullied because of that too! My imaginary nephew can't win!
I'm nervous that he won't see me enough to remember me. I'm dreading having to explain why I look different than he does. Having to navigate that awkward "this is my boyfriend" conversation. Or more likely having to explain why Uncle Joel always looks so alone. And why my eyes get wet every time I'm around him.
I'm afraid he'll be conservative, like his mom and dad. I'm excited to be his sole outlet when he's not.
What if he's a shit? Kids are growing up to be shits these days, did you know that?
I'm full of fears and doubts and hopes for my first nephew. A laundry list of terrors and things to teach him filling up my brain every day. Maybe it's the novelty of the whole thing and maybe it will wear off. We'll see. I'll be meeting him in just two weeks now and I couldn't be more excited.
This I know:
I know that when I hold him for the first time I will not drop him and probably continue to cry for as long as I'm his uncle.