I Am Not Alarmed...

Dear readers (men and women alike),

Time for a little advice...

Advice...I am not sure if I ever have any good advice to give, but I'll give it a shot anyways. Maybe I will get lucky!

*PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THE EVENTS TO FOLLOW ARE TRUE AND HAVE BEEN VERIFIED BY MULTIPLE WITNESSES. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.*

When Meagan got pregnant, I started reading a book to prepare me with helping her throughout her time carrying the boys around. It is truly a life changing experience to go through together. Meagan and I have grown closer and closer everyday as we have shared the news of upcoming arrivals, prepared the nursery, visited the doctors office, looked at ultrasound pictures of the boys, and talked about how our lives are forever going to be changed for the better due to their arrivals. It is a busy, stressful time that is also filled with excitement and happiness. However, there are a lot of things to prepare for. With that in mind, I dove into a book that every expectant father should read.
"Beware of the flurry of emotionally driven, sometimes hostile hormone attacks that invade and control, by impulse, the joy, sorrow, reverence, hate, grief and love of an expectant woman. Because of these powerful and complex occurrences, a need has arisen - a need for sympathy, a need for adaptable communication, a need stamped in the hearts of all pregnant women that screams, 'understand me! Please!'"
With a warning like that, I couldn't help but read it. And, it has made a world of difference. It gives serious tips in a light hearted and humorous manner. He goes on to say "By educating the pregnant male, I will dismantle the communication barriers that have been constructed by what I call the 'hormone hobbits.' Those busy little emotional trolls pop up at will with only one agenda: to confuse."
Lucky for me, Meagan has not had too many "hormone hobbits" for us to deal with. Well, except when she broke the car mirror by hitting the trashcan as she backed out of the garage. She called my sobbing uncontrollably. I thought she killed someone. All she could get out, between the manic, pulsating, ear wrenching, painful sobs was "When...*high pitched sob*...I...*nasal sob*....was...*ear drum shattering sob*...backing...*slightly controlled sob*...out...*louder sob*...I...*even louder sob*...hit....*uncontrollable sob*.......*sobbing, sobbing, and more sobbing*.
I have heard dying animals on the African Plains that are being torn apart by lions (nice visual) make less noise. From what I have heard, Vietnam War Veterans (bless them) have nightmares about my wife's sobs. People voluntarily locked themselves in the solitary confinement section of maximum security prisons to avoid hearing her cries. I am not exaggerating, as I am not known to exaggerate.
So, there I am...on the phone...in suspense. Wondering, just wondering, if my children were going to be born in a women's prison. Because, from what it sounded like, my wife must have just went on a rampage. She must have lost it and went off the deep end...again (the first event was sticken from the record). She must have mowed down a group of children as they were walking to the school bus. In no way am I purposely poking fun at serious and horrible accidents. I am just trying to put in perspective the fear that overcame my body as I experienced the sobs shattering my ear drums. I was not sure if a demonic possession had occurred or if it was some sick, twisted prank call. I half expected a little clown to roll up on a tricycle behind me while a matching, terrifying puppet appeared on my computer screen and uttered the words, "Wanna play a game?". And, to be honest, at that point, I probably would have chosen the game. I would have gladly left my iPhone at my desk and followed the clown into whatever dark, damp, twisted room he instructed me to go into.
But, I love my wife. Too much maybe...just kidding! I could never love her enough. So, as I pondered if and how often they would let me visit her while she was in the "joint", the "pen", the "big house", the "slammer", the "clink" or whatever you want to call it, a tear, just one...because I am tough, filled my eye. Yes, just one eye! Real men cry, but they only use one eye for that purpose. The other eye is strictly used to look out for an ambush by ninjas, assassins, and pirates. Like I always say...that combo of killing machines will never get the upper hand on me. Like Chuck Norris, I sleep with one eye open.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by what sounded like an African Bull Elephant giving birth. The painful sob was once again my beautiful, loving wife. I may lose my hearing, but, at least, I can still look at her. She started...AGAIN... *African Bull Elephant in labor sob*...I...*hyperventalating sob*...was...*not sure how to describe it sob*...backing..."
At that point, I remembered Tip #4: Think Before You Respond to a Pregnant Outburst. "Men, when she begins to cry over what seems to be a very insignificant thing, STOP AND THINK!" As good as this advice is...you have to remember that I still do not know what she did. She could have spilled the milk. She could have forgotten her lunch. She could have thought her hair looked silly. She could have remembered a time in 6th grade when she cheated on a math test. She could have run over a litter of puppies. She could have set fire to the entire Amazon rain forest. I didn't know! So, in this case, the problem was that I had time to "STOP AND THINK". But, I had no idea what in the heck I was supposed to be thinking about.
With that, I remembered Tip #5: Second That Emotion. "She may begin to be unstable in areas in which she used to be pretty solid, forgetful where she was usually on top of things, frustrated where she used to be quite calm, sad for no reason and she may even start to cry right out of the blue. Don't be alarmed!" Yeah right! At that point, I am thinking...if the zombie apocalypse started right now, I wouldn't be alarmed. If suddenly spiders the size of horses started meandering down the streets, I wouldn't be alarmed. That's right...very large spiders meander...look it up. If 2Pac, Biggie, Eazy E, Johnny Cash, Elvis, John Lennon, Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston appeared in front of me and began belting out a new collaboration that was dedicated to me and titled "Don't be alarmed!"...I wouldn't be alarmed. But, when sounds that could easily be mistaken as the cries of millions of innocent, cute and cuddly baby seals as they are slaughtered emanated from my cellular device, I was ALARMED! So, tip #5, shame on you! You had failed me just like the one that came before.
Then, it hit me. Literally, the book fell off the shelf at my desk at hit me right in the face. The sound waves from my phone were so strong that they knocked the book down. It was like an epiphany. As the book attacked my large, slightly crooked, possibly still broken noise, the #11 was all that I could see. Just like in the cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head. Again, literally...someone must have leaned on a light switch. But, with the lights on...someone was home. I thumbed clumsily through the pages until I found it. Angels sang from the heavens above..."Hallelujah, hallelujah". I was saved! The sobbing was still coming down hard, but Mount Vesuvius hadn't erupted yet. But, I would have been a fool if I couldn't see how close it was. It was angry. It was unstable. It was going to BLOW. Every second was precious. Hide yer kids, hide yer wife.
But, like Superman stopping a runaway train, like Batman stopping a bus full of children from driving off a cliff, like Napoleon Dynamite catching a delicious bass, or like Superwoman forgetting to shave her legs...there it was. Simple and plain. Tip #11: Beware the Aggrevation of Exaggeration. "She may have a tendency to exaggerate everything, especially if she is frustrated about anything! You must become a master of coolheadedness." Even though she could have possibly done something horrible, I let my coolheadedness take over. I calmly used a soothing voice (think Barry White) and said, "I love you baby. Please try to relax. Every little thing will be alright (think Bob Marley)." With that, she started to calm down. The moans of the African Bull Elephant in labor mixed with the cries of baby seals, combined with screams of demonic possession that were followed by weezing sobs of a hyperventalating giant began to slowly fade away. And, with that, the mood instantly changed. She said, in a clear and coherent almost chipper voice, "I broke the side mirror on the car while backing out of the garage".
My first thought was..."You have to be *$#!%#@ kidding me! Seriously, all this over a mirror. I thought you killed someone." But, my response was, "Oh, no problem babe. It is no big deal. We will just get it fixed. I love you so much cookie face". The words left my mouth sincere and soft. They were loving and calm. But, in my head, I thought again to myself..."It was no big deal, but you decided to turn it into one. You pyschotic, beautiful, crazy, loving, unstable, incredibly awesome wife of mine. I love you even though you just sent me on a rollercoaster with missing wheels and no lap bar, but what the heck, the loop-d-loop and crockscrews wil be fun. After all, I am not alarmed! To this day, I still jolt up in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat, shaking, and unable to speak or move. The only thing that helps is sucking my thumb while laying in the fetal position until the ear shattering screams disapate. They will never leave me. I will never be the same.
But...I AM NOT ALARMED!
This post will not be shared with my children until at such time I deem fit. These views are strictly the views of Justin Barrow and do not represent the views of Meagan Barrow or the Barrow Household. Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.
PS: A motion picture of the events of this day is currently being filmed at our home in Henderson, NV. These true events may be unsuitable for children under the age of 13. Extreme night terrors will follow the viewing of the picture. It is truly the most horrorific movie of all time. Please watch with caution upon its release.

Justin Barrow
PS+s: I may or may not have over dramatized the events above.