Waiting…

I got word last week that should everything go well, my sister-in-law would be induced today.  Why, I’m not sure.  She’s not due until January 4th, which worked well for me.

Matthew and I have birthdays in January, their anniversary is in January, the nephew’s birthday would be in January.  And my brother, his wife, and Sam are August babies.  (My wedding anniversary was also in August, not that it matters anymore) But my point is, we kept things simple.  Where as most families have to remember all these dates on the calendar, my mother didn’t.  As long as she kept the months of August and January in the forefront of her mind, she was okay.

Ok, so it was easy for me, the woman who struggles to get gifts and cards out.  It was super simple for me to remember that the day before my birthday was my brother’s anniversary and 9 days after my birthday is Matthew’s birthday.  When August rolled around, my brother celebrates on the 4th, his wife is right after that, and then comes Samara.  When I was married, it was 5 days after Samara’s birthday that my wedding aniversary was celebrated.

November is kinda cool too, because my grandma and my mother are a week apart.  Mom’s cards and gifts are always late and Mamaw’s are always early.

Easy peasy.

Except now, little Johnny is going to be in December.  While I’m thrilled that they are going to get a tax break this year, I’m a little bummed that Johnny won’t be a January baby.  Purely selfish, I know.

It’s how I roll.

However, like I said, my SIL was scheduled to be induced today.  (Again, early, not fair.  I never got an induction appointment until mine were almost ready to hit puberty.)  However, like my children, the thought of an induction scared him out because at 11:45pm her water broke, on it’s own.  Matthew came two days before his scheduled departure date (which was nine days late total) and Samara was born 4 days before her ejection date (which was 7 days late).

I guess just like in real life cooking, I have no reliable timer so they bake a little longer.  Makes sense.  I guess.  Maybe now that I’ve become Betty Crocker, if I do ever decide to have another child, they will come out at least on time.

Another child?  Oh dear…

Let’s get back to the one that I’m patiently waiting on.

So Little Johnny (and I swear this kid is going to be the epitome of all the little Johnny jokes out there) is still waiting.  At 6:30 this morning my brother called my mother to give her an update.  She’d been given and epidural (smart woman) and pitocin to help speed things along.  As of 2 hours ago, still no baby, and poor Liz has been in labor for 12 hours.  I can’t relate to that.  Mine were fairly quick and painless.  Ok, so they weren’t painless, and quick is relative, but compared to other stories that I’ve heard, mine were easy.  My God knows what I can endure and massive, long, pain is not one of them.

Mom and Dad are on thier way and should be there in about two hours.  God bless my mother.  When I said something about making it there to see the baby be born, she simply replied with “I don’t want to intrude on their time.”

I don’t know how it is for boys, but I know that all I wanted was my mother when I was in labor.  Nothing against my husband, he did the best he could, but I wanted my mother.  Period.  And I didn’t have her there for either of them.

But there’s the other part of me that says you’re the grandmother.  You’re allowed to butt in.  Lord knows I plan on it when my children are grown and having babies.  That’s what I’m looking forward to and why I’ve not yet killed my children.

Oh come on, you know I’m not alone in my thinking on that.

So, here I sit, working, listening to my children play Rock Band and waiting for my mother to give me the call that John Clayton Moore is here.

And then?  I’ll call my brother and welcome him to the ranks of parenthood.

I’m anxious to see if my brother and I will now have a common ground to stand on.  Babies are wonderful for mending relationships. 

Until next time…