A Tip of the Hat to Nibbles for Reminding Me....I used to fantasize about starting a ranch in, say, Montana, and moving in with a coven of witches and raising prize children. And it wasn't about the mindless sex! No way! I'm a heck of a father, always available on the golf course to talk to my kids on the ol' cell phone. They're very good about working with the fact that I have to put down the phone every so often to make a shot.
But here's my main point: Conception Parties*, with Conception Presents* for the male in the Mommie/Baby equation. You know, Mom + Dad = Baby.
Our society has evolved to a point where the contribution of the male is treated de minimis. I would like to contribute to a reversal of the situation. Which brings me back to The Conception Party*.
As with so many human rites, it's the symbolism that's important. So here's how it works:
When a couple want to have a baby, they take steps to see to it that an egg is quickened. One way or another. (So see? This is all inclusive; gay couples can hold these parties, too.) Once an egg or two is quickened, and the quickening confirmed, the party is planned. The date is picked, the caterer called, the invitations sent out. The theme? A baby has been conceived: All hail the conceptor! This is HIS moment! After this party all the attention will shift to the conceptee, but for this one night, it's all about the man, the penis and the sperm. We got a Major Theme and mini-themes up the wazoo!
The Conception Party* starts at the appointed hour. For the first few hours it's just a regular party, with eating, drinking and dancing. Nothing is said about the reason for the party. Then a couple of hours into the party, the ritual begins. The man is cued to start the show. He starts hitting on his woman, telling her how much she turns him on, how fecund he imagines her to be. She plays her part, declaiming her willingness to receive his seed. Audience participation, of a vocal nature, is encouraged.
Finally the man announces, in whatever style he finds comfortable, that he can no longer resist his urges. He gathers up his woman and carries her into a bedroom. Much hilarity among the guests. They sing ritual songs about breeding, about positions, about the thrust and parry of making a baby.
In the bedroom the couple sits and calmly plays a couple of hands of gin rummy. She occasionally screams as if scaling the heights or orgiastic delight. Then carefully making a disarray of her clothing, she exits the bedroom first. She staggers out, begins to swoon and is caught by the girls who were her bridesmaids. They carry her to a large, comfortable chair where she spends the rest of the evening as if she were an aged dowager queen.
After she is seated, the lights are brought down and the men all shine flashlights (notice the symbolism?) at the bedroom door. Drum roll.... The Man exits the bedroom. Bedlam ensues! The women throw themselves at his feet, grasping at his ankles, but he eludes them. The men all start to sing "You are the Champion.." Then he sits and receives his presents, basking in the adulation that is due an egg quickener.
More drinking, more eating, lots of laughter as he opens his presents, lots of sexually charged conversations. Couples go home and do what they do best.
Then (roughly) for the next nine months the man is a virtual non-entity. But with memories of The Conception Party*, it's more easily endured.
*The Conception Party is trademarked and is the property of Bert Bananas Enterprises, S.A., Inc., LLC. All Right are Reserved. No one may have a Conception Party without the express written permission of Bert Bananas and Major League Baseball. Your Place or Mine?
Or, calling Child Protective Services home for a while 
