I am two people right now. No, not in the "quick get the crazy pills" sense, but in the "philosophers might have some fun with this" sense. This miracle of life can get pretty mind-boggling at times. To think that this child can't survive without me is pretty daunting. My body is sustaining myself and Junior. And meanwhile, Daddy is only having to deal with some second-hand impacts. Lucky duck. He contributed some nucleic acids, maybe some vital proteins, and that's it. Everything else has been all Baby and me. That leaves me wondering exactly how men came to be and still are the "dominant" sex. I don't mean to sound bitter or sexist. It's just one of those things you think about during a bad bout of morning sickness. Right along with the thoughts of "we've been doing this for HOW many thousands of years and evolution hasn't found a better way to create new life" and "can't we just lay eggs like lizards".
But back to the two people, one body thing. I can definitely say that two heads are most certainly not better than one. Simple case in point: food. I miss steak. Juicy, spicy, covered in A-1 steak. Baby clearly is not interested in this delicacy. I'll think about the taste of steak and start to salivate. Then I think about swallowing a bite of steak, and my stomach gives the negative anticipatory rumble. This dichotomy has me bothered enough that I haven't even tried to repeat this thought exercise with something like salmon. I should really start building menus that I can stash somewhere and just start having all of these Lost Meals as soon as Junior's out and about. That's assuming that the little runt won't decide to take issue with any of the Lost Meal byproducts showing up in breast milk. At least then I'll be able to pass the kid over to Mark for him to deal with whatever unfortunate results occur.
Similarly, having Baby's input on my life right now makes getting work done interesting. I'll be all excited about getting some writing done, and Baby will promptly decide it's Nap Time. It's to the point where a successful weekend is one in which I've conned this child into letting me clean the bathrooms or balance my checkbook. At least I can get a lot of reading and TV-watching and music-listening done. Baby seems to enjoy the Simpsons and Whose Line and CSI, but can't be bothered to let me stay awake through the Star Wars trilogy and finds Law&Order unimpressive. Baby loves Carol Berg's fantasies and Nevada Barr's mysteries, but isn't very interested in Lemony Snicket or the morning paper. Tori Amos is a fave, especially the really melodic piano bits, and the string-quartet awesomeness of Bond is appealing, but nearly all radio stations are a no-go--at least while I'm driving. In short, it seems Baby really likes me to laugh and think and dream. While I certainly loved these activities before, I get extra joy and reward from them now. It's interesting.
OK, so I guess two heads can be better than one. Rather, this second person growing inside me is finding some ways to give back as it takes sustenance from me. Maybe Baby will feel so generous as to let me enjoy a big steak this summer.