My morning started off pretty well. I got an email from my mom. She’d read my blog and the handy statistic about how women are 14% more likely to give birth on a Tuesday than any other day of the week. It just so happens, she informed me, that she, my sister and I were all born on a Tuesday.
Well, I took that as a sign from the heavens that today was going to be the day.
I’d scheduled a play date with another mom and I considered calling her and cancelling. The reason? Because there was a 14% chance I could go into labor, and because I, my mom and sister were all born on Tuesdays. But I thought that sounded ridiculous. So I didn’t call. And she came over. And the kids played. And I didn’t go into labor.
The professor had important business to tend to at the University. So he left mid-morning. With our car-van. ‘Make sure you leave your email on,’ I reminded him. Because we haven’t yet come to terms with the 21st century and do not have that all-important lifeline accessory known as a cell phone. So our labor contingency communication plans include the phone numbers of his departmental secretaries, cell phone numbers of the guys that he plays soccer with once a week. And gmail.
When he’s at the University, he’s supposed to leave his gmail ‘on’ so that I can send him a message if I need him to come home.
We really are ridiculous.
As the boys ate their lunch, I checked gmail-email. A message from my better half popped up on the screen. ‘How’s it going,’ he said, ‘I’m still in a meeting.’
‘Oh, fine,’ I replied, ‘I had the baby a couple of hours ago….he seems okay, if a little funny looking.’ ‘Unibrow?’ my clever half responded. ‘Yes,’ I wrote back, ‘and black fuzz covering his entire body.’ Reminiscent of a conversation we’d had with friends on Friday night.
After I put the Hen down for his afternoon nap, I reclined on the bed for a rest of my own. Eventually I had a couple of contractions. Sure enough, I thought, this was going to be THE DAY. I grabbed my laptop. I thought about emailing my mom ‘you were RIGHT’ but decided against it. Instead, I sent Jason an email.
Jason, who was not online at all. I sent him a lame message, about how I’m sure it meant nothing but I’d had a couple of pains, so he should at least be prepared for a quick exit. I didn’t hear from him until he walked through the door around 3.30pm or so. Completely oblivious to my minor SOS. Clearly on red alert these days.
By 4.30pm all of the Johnsons were lying on the carpet in the living room. I’d never seen four people so overcome with sheer boredom; so paralyzed by the absence of a life-changing event. Where was the entertainment, the fifth wheel, the main attraction?
And so we went to Zeller’s. Because we couldn’t think of anything else to do. Or, put another way, none of the XY chromosomes was interested in any of the other activities I’d suggested.
So, to recap, here’s my list of failed labor induction tactics thus far (don’t try these at home…they do not work.)
Drinking Raspberry Leaf Tea
Eating salmon curry
Buying two new laundry baskets at IKEA
Doing all the laundry
Watching ‘The Reader’
Cleaning all the toilets in the house
Cleaning the lid to the trash can
Mopping all the floors
Eating a bowl of frosted mini-wheats
Drinking a cup of coffee
Eating a raspberry pop-tart
Drinking a glass of water on the deck while watching the kids play
Setting up a coffee date for Wednesday
Playing Bejeweled Blitz on Jason’s Facebook account
Eating ice cream and Milk Duds
Stepping on an industrial-strength staple with my bare foot
Here are the remaining things I will try in order for this baby to be born:
Reading the latest issue of Oprah magazine
Making scones for my Wednesday coffee date
Cleaning the microwave
Changing the sheets on all the beds
And, barring visible results, chaining myself to the doctor’s reception desk until they schedule a bonafide induction date that meets with my approval.