If you’ve seen me in the past couple weeks, you’ve probably noticed that my pectorals are swollen. You likely also noted my skin’s rosy glow and my more frequent trips to the ol’ watering hole. And whether you’ve crossed my path or not, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve missed my last two weekly column cycles.

What unites these disparate snippets of information? Well, if you couldn’t guess, I’m expecting! A child!

No, I haven’t yet convinced a womb-equipped human to bear the fruit of my loins. My imaginary girlfriend barely tolerates my presence, and I’m sure that the moment I broach the topic of making mini-mes she’d bolt for the door as fast as she did when I mentioned the idea of co-writing a Broadway adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s “Notes From the Underground.” And no, we’ve not yet reached the advanced age when men can — a la the Governator in “Junior” — inject themselves with “Expectane” in order to be part of an incisive and poignant 109 minute exploration of how men would feel if they were the ones who got pregnant.

The explanation of my morning sickness and nausea is the impending arrival of my nephew(s) or niece(s). In a matter of months, I will be the proud uncle to one or more small living creatures bearing, on average, a quarter of my genetic material, and I’m psyched!

Maybe he/she/zie will have my charming smile, my deep brown eyes or my uncanny ability to recite verbatim the script of “The Big Lebowski.” Maybe it will be that squash partner(s) I’ve been seeking for so long.

But wait, what if s/h/zie enters the world, not with a subset of my few positive characteristics, but instead with a lion’s share of my innumerable flaws? I got 99 problems but a kid ain’t one! Maybe, through no fault of my own, this child or group thereof will have my intractable love handles, chronically sharp pitch and continual inability to ever be considered smarter than a fifth grader. What will I do then?

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’m ready to take this step in my life. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was taking safaris in Namibia without a care in the world except not getting caught importing ivory for 87 keys of my piano (middle C is made of blood diamonds). Today, I’m pondering my mortality and self-limitations as I sit on the brink of welcoming the next batch of Sridharans to this world.

In fact, with all due respect to the parties involved, I’m a little miffed that no one consulted me in this decision-making process. Am I not an equal participant in the sacred union of my brother and his wife? Doesn’t what they choose to do with their bodies affect me as much if not more than it does both of them? In a couple months when that head crests, won’t I be there in spirit but thousands of miles away in the flesh because I have another engagement that I’m just not sure I can get out of because I planned it a long time ago and I don’t want to be one of those people who flakes just because?

I guess that when I take a serious look at my life these days, it troubles me to think that a new generation is already on my heels. I’m in law school, but I don’t know why. My finances are in the red, and I can’t imagine them ever going black — though if they do, I doubt they’ll ever go back. I’m more than a quarter century old, and the longest relationship I’ve ever had was with my mom, who stopped speaking to me 13 years ago after she gave up any hope of me turning out any better.

Basically, I’m a scared and naive kid, and the world right now seems like a blooming, buzzing confusion. Maybe my nephew(s)/niece(s) and I can do a little growing up together.

Tips on being an uncle? Email Vishnu at vishnus "at" stanford.edu.