Hey, you know what I forgot to mention to you? Nordic Boy and I, we have a baby.
Yeah, me too. I totally did not sign up for this.
Ok, so it’s not a human baby, fruit of our loins, birthed from inside one of us like in that movie, Alien.
(Do you like how I said “birthed from inside one of us“? Like, if there was any birthing happening, there would be a chance in hell that I would be able to say “not it!” and get out of it? This is only one of the many ways that I live in my own private Idaho where things are set up exactly how I want them).
Our baby, I am surprised to discover, is our house. And Nordic Boy is one dedicated effer of a parent.
I should have seen the signs.
Sign #1: A while ago, we were having a morbid conversation, as couples do. You know the ones. The ones where you say things like “if I die, make sure you find someone else to love.” Not to get all seriousface with you, but one of the things I think about with Nordic Boy is that he, more than any person I have ever met, ever, is totally and completely unaffected by lonliness. He never, and I mean NEVER, gets lonely. He really likes his own company, and can spend days upon days not really interacting with anyone and feel completely occupied and stimulated. I tease him about this constantly, with a very mature and sophisticated humor that goes something like “you looooove yourself. ooh, you are so in loooooove with you. smoochy smoochy from you to youuuuu.” Yeah. Anyway. So we were having this conversation, and I said that I wondered if I was gone, would he really go out and do things, like with other people. Or would he become one of those Dick Proenekke style hermits who goes out in the woods and spends their time making spoons out of tree branches with nothing but a whittling knife. I know he loves our friends so I don’t really think he would do that, but a part of me worries. So I say:
Me: If I’m gone, make sure you keep up your friendships. Because you may not feel lonesome now, but you might later, as you get older.
Him: Don’t worry about me. I have the house to work on.
People, he really said that. Like the house is a PERSON. A friend to hang with. A CHILD to care for.
When we go away on vacations, this conversation will happen.
Me: I miss (insert friend or family name here).
Him: Yeah, I know what you mean. I miss the house.
If you are around Nordic Boy, he is often deep in thought. He always looks like he is thinking about something. Thinking hard. I call it sultry furrowed brow face. But ask him, AT ANY TIME, what he is thinking about. And I mean at ANY TIME. Guaranteed that it will be building-related. “I am thinking about busting out the shower and re-designing how the plumbing is routed back there.” Or “I am thinking about how many BTUs we’ll save if we use this insulator. Give me the calculator” or “I am thinking about geothermal heating.” Seriously.
Lately, Nordic Boy has been (as you know) re-doing the roof. I think all of our friends think that we have separated because he has not been seen by them for a month. He won’t leave the roof. It is full-time babysitting. You know those moms that have babies and you never see them again? Yeah.
The final straw. Last night? Nordic Boy got OUT OF BED, three times, to CHECK THE FRIGGIN’ ROOF. We were sleeping with the window open, and he kept convincing himself that he was hearing the plastic covering blowing off the roof. So today? He is sleep-deprived. Because the baby kept us up.