Well, there was full attendance on Super Bowl Night at the Bradley class. In fact, no one even rushed out when the class concluded at seven. Not sure if that speaks to the lame state of us Bradley people, or the boredom of this year’s Super Bowl.
We spent the night talking about our expectations about birth, learning about common medical practices at hospitals, and trading tips for choking down two eggs each day. Our suggestion? Swedish pancakes, of course!
My major revelation for the week: by sharing most meals with my 116-grams-of-protein-per-day wife, I’m probably eating about that much protein, too. Or more, considering the relative sizes of our stomachs and my propensity to eat larger portions. I’m still trying to figure out exactly why this came as such a surprise to me, but it might explain my expanding waistline.
More important than all of that was, of course, maintaining our cover. On the ride over, I encouraged the wife to return to a time in her life when she didn’t possess her current expertise in childbirth and complete familiarity with medical terminology. “When you say something, just talk about it like you would have in high school,” I offered, helpfully. Which meant a night filled with her saying things like “Eeewww, breastfeeding is sooo gross! I mean, gag me!”, “I’m so sure!”, and making references to the “awesomeness” of Duran Duran and the “cuteness” of Larry Mullen, Jr.