“So, there’s 13 women in this class. The over/under on bathroom trips is 6. What are you taking?” And so starts our first “Getting Ready for Baby” class.

My husband loves to take bets. He loves to evaluate situations, especially those than can be boring and mundane at times, and try to find ways to turn them into something fun. Judging by the looks of the participants in last night’s “Getting Ready for Baby Class”, I was glad that I have a husband like him.

Like many first time parents, we’re eager to learn all we can about bringing home Davey. The class started with a brief introduction and then a side bar to let us all know where we could locate the restrooms as the class was two hours long, right after dinner, and most every mother (with the exception of me) was drinking a bottle of water.

Within minutes of the class starting, my husband takes our fake baby, who seems to be going through a severe state of rigor mortis, and tries to make him stand. He comes very close to this feat and exclaims that perhaps it will be this easy with Davey. I roll my eyes and smile, happy to just have someone with me who’s not the frantic hot mess like all the other fathers.

Our baby falls, since he’s not firmly planted on the table and really able to stand plus he’s fake, and my husband catches him. Then he repositions the baby into a sitting position and smiles at me as if to say “look at how awesome our kid is.” I roll my eyes again and think to myself, hopefully my husband doesn’t really think it’s this easy.

During the introduction of the course, my husband then proceeds to take our fake baby and with instructions from the sheet in our folder, he demonstrates a football hold for me. I nervously look around wondering if anyone is watching us, but everyone else seems to be engrossed in the teacher, something I suppose we should have been focusing on. A part of me wanted to tell my husband to quit being a clown, but then I saw the frightened and often constipated looks of the other fathers and decided I had the better end of the deal.

As the class progressed, and my husband learned how to change diapers (something he did like a pro, the true engineer that he is), we found ourselves in the question and answer period. First off, I have to say that I’m not much of a debater in class. I don’t ask questions. I don’t try to brown nose and pretend to know more than the instructor. I sit there. I take notes. I digest, and I learn. Unfortunately, a part of me became slightly nervous at the fact that we seemed to be the only couple not asking questions. I have to admit, that I frantically read through my notes and the brochure folder chocked full of useful information, just to find something, anything that I could possibly ask or discuss in class. I came up empty. And here’s where my concern comes into play….will my husband and I be able to handle this or are we too laid back in our approach? I thought and still feel that we are taking this seriously, but based upon the interaction and questions of so many others in class, I have to wonder how good at this we’ll actually be.

For the most part, I’m feeling pretty confident (not as confident as the one father who wanted to discuss the in depth scientific effects have a ceiling fan in the nursery has on the affect of the child’s emotional stability….please don’t ask), but our lack of questions raises some level of worry. I suppose we’ll learn it as we go along and as I’ve been told by so many, you can’t read a book to raise a child.

And oh, by the way, in my husband’s bet I chose the over and there were 4 mothers who went to the bathroom and 1 father. I argued that the 1 father should count as it was obvious he was the “Mary” in that relationship.

Above is a picture of my husband as he learns to change a diaper.