It’s been really hot lately.

I live on the fourth floor and my window unit A/C only accomplishes so much. So there have been quite a few nights over the past month or so during which I’ve found myself unable to sleep. During these intervals of insomnia, my mind has been occupied with a variety of different subjects, not the least of which is the rapidly approaching birthday of my son.

I don’t know that you can call these episodes nightmares, since as I mentioned I am wide awake, but they are terrifying nonetheless. I’m under a lot of pressure.

My life will never be the same. In about two months, there will suddenly be another person living in my house. My life will never be solely mine again. So many things are about to change, so many questions plague me…

Check them out after the jump.

• Will the happiness he brings outweigh all the sacrifices his existence will force me to make?
• Is golf the best excuse to get out of the house and hang with friends for an entire day, or is there something else I can use?
• How many beers deep is too many beers deep when preparing to pick up a baby?
• Will breast-feeding make him a simpering mama’s boy?
• Will bottle feeding deprive him of necessary nutrients and leave him sickly and weak?
• All your life is Time Magazine. I read it too. What does it mean?
• We’re still allowed to spank our kids, aren’t we?
• Do they sell gates that block spiral staircases?
• Can working too hard give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack?
• Do I need to declaw my cat?
• I don’t have to start watching Mad About You, do I?
• Day care doesn’t really cost as much as they say it does, does it?
• Does the fact that I am completely clueless when it comes to childcare really even matter?
• I can have sex with my nanny, right?
• I’ve got bills to pay and children who need clothes.
• I know there’s fish out there but where God only knows.

These are the things that keep me up at night. And the only thing I usually have in my stomach is some tacos and a six pack. I can’t imagine what my wife is dealing with.

And no, there is no real point to the Billy Joel stuff. To make it up to you, here’s a picture of Phil Collins’ daughter!