'Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family...

by tosca on Wednesday, June 30, 2010

...in another city.'
~ George Burns

And sometimes, as much as I love my family, being in another city would be better for my continued health & safety. Families are strange little things, aren't they? I have been able to watch my youngest sister (the baby, if you will) navigate her way through her very first pregnancy and it has been a very interesting time. To say the least - the things that pop out of her mouth *shakes head* It's Wednesday and I missed my regular 'my family & other animals post' where I share a funny, sad, silly story about my oddball family, so you're getting it tonight, instead. It'll be two conversations that I relate - one about the impending baby's name, and the other right now while Miss Knocked Up is having contractions (at great risk to my own life, I might add).

A few months ago, Miss Knocked Up and I were having a conversation about the baby's name. Mr. 6's mummy gets to choose the first name and I get to choose the middle name. Our chat went a little something like this:

Tosca: What about the baby's name? Am I still allowed to choose the middle name?
Miss Knocked Up: Yep. How's that going?
Tosca: It isn't. I'm still thinking.
Miss Knocked Up: Think faster. You're not allowed to call him Aloysius.
Tosca: WHAT? Why not?!
Miss Knocked Up: Because I said. And you can't call him Dorcas, either.
Tosca: It's a PERFECTLY good name! And HEY this is MY choice, remember??
Miss Knocked Up: Yeah, those kinda names? That's why you're only ever allowed to choose the middle names.
Tosca: CRUD. Dorcas is a girl's name, anyway.
Miss Knocked Up: You're still not allowed that one.
Tosca: At this rate that kid's gonna have NO middle name.
Miss Knocked Up: Works for me.

As I type this post, Miss Knocked Up is packing back and forth and Mr. 6's mummy has managed to convince her to rearrange cushions to get comfortable. Perhaps an impossible feat considering that an 8 pound watermelon is pushing and squeezing and wriggling around in order to make his debut appearance. Comfort is not an option. She is making a list. Maybe, like Santa, she's noting who's naughty and nice...? Helluva time to construct a possible 'to do' list but hey, live in the present, right?

I had this weirdest flashback to when my mother was in labour Christmas Eve of 1983. My youngest brother, Hemi (no, we didn't name him Jesus, tempting as it was), was a Christmas day baby. Seriously, what a stink present, I'd have asked Santa for a refund. I remember waking up in the wee hours of the morning and my mother was roaming around in her nightie finishing wrapping presents. She used to disguise our presents in weird shapes to make it even more of a surprise - that year I got my very first digital watch and it was wrapped inside a toilet roll with shiny, stripey paper. She was quite determined that we have as normal a Christmas day as possible (even though dad always kinda sucked at knowing how to deal with us when mum wasn't around LOL) and she was setting the table, humming to herself and, if I'm right, probably having contractions. Eek. My mother is a stickler when it comes to table arrangements and napkin folding and nothing was going to get in the way of that LOL Believe it or not, I am now a napkin-folder extraordinaire - a feat that will serve me well should I ever lose my job ;) So, I'm looking at Miss Knocked Up and seeing my mother, 26 years ago. You know, I don't remember that I ever let my mother know that I was awake and watching her. I have been, however, dumb enough to let Miss Knocked Up know I was curious about her labour pains. I know! Stupid move! She's ready to rip heads off with her teeth *snorts*

Tosca: How did your check up go today?
Amiria: *grumpily* It's still going!
Tosca: What do you mean it's still going?! *slightly panicky voice*
Tosca: Oh *small voice* Good point.
Amiria: UNH I'm really, really sore. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow...

It's at about this point that I pike out and fervently thank god that I had a couple of beers tonight and can't drive her anywhere and that it'll be Mr. 6's mummy instead *heave sigh of relief*


Miss Potty Mouth (aka Miss Knocked Up) has just headed off to the local maternity hospital having one and a half minute long contractions at four minutes apart. Whatever that means! All I know is it looked frickin' painful and necessitated lots of swearing, a grumpy face and lots of pacing. I had to take a book off her before she went out the door - she was so sure she'd be able to read a romance novel during the labour. WTF? And by the way, I did choose a middle name - Lakota, as in the American Indian tribe and yes, as in the Wounded Knee massacre.

by catatonia on July 1, 2010 at 12:38 AM. #

Fingers crossed!
I'm grateful the labours I've watched were very quiet & sedate - much to the disgust of my sister's friend, who was neither during her labours!

by Annie on July 1, 2010 at 8:13 AM. #

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