MUCH TO DO

Dear Spike:

Your mother can sleep through an entire DVD of MASH episodes — she doesn’t even stir when that abrading and melancholy, 70s-era pop wind ensemble theme sets in between shows.

But she can’t repose if I’m slapping away at the keyboard on my computer, so for the moment I’ve moved into the spare bedroom — a space that will be your room once you arrive.

There’s much to do between now and then. We have to do something about these stark white walls (your Aunt Kelly has ordered some special organic paint — butter yellow with a yet unknown shade of green for the trim.) We have to move this bed and these drawers and the vanity desk your mom uses when she’s putting on makeup in the morning.

And then we’ve got to buy you stuff. Lots of stuff. We’ve got to fill this dresser with baby clothes and diapers and burping blankets. I guess we’ll need a changing table. A crib, of course. A diaper bucket. And a rocking chair.

I think the drapes we have in here can stay, though I haven't cleared that with your aunt yet, so I guess we’ll see.

When we moved into this house, two years ago, we chose the bedroom in which your mom, at this very moment, is snoring in time with Suicide is Painless, because it was the largest room in the house — and because it had a chandelier, which is really quite unnecessary in a bedroom but fun nonetheless.

Over time, however, we have come to understand that this room — your room — is, by far, the most comfortable space in our home.

It stays coolest in the summer and warmest in the winter. Since it’s on the west side of the house — its only window faces the backyard — it remains dark in the morning and lights up with a beautiful warm glow as the sun sets in the evening.

The cats enjoy it. They love to lie in the sun in the late afternoon. The azalea tree, outside the window, gets lots of birds (your mother insists that she can recognize one, in particular — she calls him “Lenny.”)

It’s also right by the bathroom, which will be good for when you’re learning to do your thing by yourself at night — and I’m sorry to tell you this, kid, but your mom and I both had a little trouble with the whole bed wetting thing, so you may be in for some rough nights.

Your room is also right next to our room which is good for you but might not be so great for us down the road — I’ll explain that all later on.

I love being in here, Spike. I haven't quite focused my mind's eye on how it will turn out, but I can definitely see the rocking chair, here in the corner next to the window . I can see us sitting there together, late at night, swaying gently back and forth, maybe singing a little song.

“Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” I think. I love that one.

I’m quite a bit less comfortable imagining what this room will look like a few more years down the road.

Your mom asked me the other day: “What if Spike wants to paint the room black? Will we allow it?”

Here’s what we decided: If it is for artistic purposes — say, you decide black walls are a better background for oversized Josef Sudek prints — then yes, you may paint the room black. If it is because you believe that black is the color of a vampire's passion and it matches the mascara you apply each morning with a paint brush, then no, you may not paint the room black. Is there some room for artistic interpretation here? Sure. But let’s jump off that bridge when we come to it. OK?

Funny how we play these games. Over the past few weeks, we’ve gone over scores of scenarios.

What if Spike brings home a date when Spike is 13?
Spike’s date will be welcomed into our home and will be watched. Very, very, very closely watched.

What if Spike wants to get something pierced?
Spike is allowed no piercing unless Spike's Dad has A) gotten that part of his body pierced before and B) still has said piercing.

What if Spike is gay?
So what if Spike is gay.

What if Spike hates MASH?
Adoption is always an option.

What if Spike hates soccer?
Torture is another option, and can be legal in certain circumstances under the Geneva Conventions, according to the Bush Administration.

What if, by the time Spike is a teenager, time travel is possible and Spike wants to go back to fight in the French Revolution?
Three words: Viva la NO

Ever since I learned you were coming, these things have been keeping me up at night. I don't think it's worry — more like a desire to feel prepared for your arrival by having gone over every single possible scenario. Twice.

OK, maybe that is worry.

But I honestly do believe we are going to be good parents to you. I just also happen to understand we’re not in the least bit ready for you at this moment in time.

I suppose we can start with this room, though I’m not sure I want to just yet.

Sure, the walls will be butter yellow soon. But soon thereafter they might be black.

And I know I’m not ready for that.

Love,
dad