Diapers.

So the other day while sleeping on my mother's prized couch, I received a phone call. Being that it was before noon, I obviously didn't answer it, the fact that I even recognized enough of the world to ignore it is FANTASTICALLY AMAZING, so it's more like I received a voicemail.

And in this voicemail, I hear the voice of my friend/surrogate aunt/exboyfriend's mother telling me that her son, my ex, is having a baby.

Now there are a few things I'd like to state. The Ex and I parted amicably, and I honestly like his wife. I'm happy that she is pregnant. They've been trying for a bit, and he has wanted a baby for as long as I can remember. (that was actually a point of contention between us. I want a child, but not for some time.) The Ex and I started dating around the same time that his little brother was born, and I have seen first hand what a good father figure he can be, not to mention the very attractive babies that will burst from his loins.

But after my first breath of response, I worry about him. I probably shouldn't. I'm sure it is none of my business. Yet The Ex and The Wife have been having a few problems, as is to be expected in a new marriage between two young people. I worry that The Ex sees this as a fix to those problems, and that hearts will be broken in the mean time.

I don't know. I highly doubt that I will be included in this child's life. I doubt that I'll get to see and hold and coo and be called Auntie. So all I can do is vent my congratulations and reservations on a low-traffic web blog.