"I keep looking for the lesson in all this slow, painful living. "
Joan H., OS
Today, it was Taco Bueno, and uh...ice cream. Cold Stone was closed. So, across town to Maggie Moo's. I sit there watching her eat the blue stuff. She seems pretty happy for a prego- reached her due date and still no baby-chick. Will the baby be here later today, or next week? It is hard to tell. It is round like a basketball. No change. Basketball drops. Dialated to 2. Still. Doctor says, when we come next week- come two days early...if the baby doesn't come before then.
I am happy the doctor's appointment is over. Between staying up late helping her with homework, getting up early for her appointment, picking up the book for school, taking her by the bank, ordering her contact lenses, and picking up the fast food-I feel like Cinderella getting ready for the ball. "And after you are finished with all of your regular chores..."
Finally, I have a chance to drink my coffee. It's almost noon. I am wearing a pair of slacks I haven't seen in two years. My favorite clothes are...no doubt...at the bottom of a large basket of laundry waiting for the good house-keeping fairy... along with some dishes stacked by the sink. Company might be coming this weekend, but I am too tired to be mortified.
My nails are nice, even, and short like the fingernails of a serial nail biter but I don't bite. Mine were lost- casualties of yard work over the weekend- one by one- until I had to even them all out.
Did I mention I need to shave? That I have a toothbrush in my glove box? That my car has been equally neglected. Besides the baby daddy, and a grandmother, my ex husband will be visiting soon. He is surely rested up after enjoying much paid military leave. I called once recently, at my wits end, and he was in California making day trips across the border to Tijuana...trading shiny fifty cent pieces for trinkets from a street vendor.
Finally, time for a quick lunch and some surf time. What's new? CNN. MSN. Hotmail. OS. I sit in a large black leather chair in the office. My eyelids are heavy. She calls to me from the living room, "I think I am having contractions!" Then, I hear hysterical laughter. Serious, the non-stop kind. Is she losing it? I go to check on her and it is a full-five minutes before she regains her composure enough to tell me what is so funny.
She has been apprehensive about going into labor. She read a lot about other people's experiences, and of course she believes everything she gets off the internet. So, anyway, she read that some women have bowel movements on the delivery table. While I tried to assure her a couple of time that she shouldn't be concerned about that, she now realizes that if she goes into labor today...after eating blue Maggie Moo ice cream...her stool will be the color green.