September 6, 2006

Babywatch Continues

My life is now totally being controlled by a small human not yet out of the womb. (Actually, if Aunt Lulu follows the examples set by her sisters, the baby will be a big-ass kid, not a petite little thing, and will wear size 1 diapers for two weeks and then go directly into size 3’s, but I try not to remind her of that since she’s so uncomfortable just getting off the couch to grab another brownie).

Bill flew home and I had decided to stay up here a couple of days longer. At first I’d booked a flight home for this morning, but then I realized that if I did fly home and Lulu called to say that she was in labor, I’d drive right back to the airport and get on the next plane to New York so I could be with her. I called Bill and told him this.

“Well, if you feel that strongly about it, you should just stay up there,” he said sensibly. “It doesn’t make a hill of beans’ worth of sense to fly home just to turn around and take an expensive flight back.”

“But I feel caught in a fierce tug-of-war between my nuclear family and my family of origin,” I said melodramatically.

People who’ve been to lots of counseling and therapy casually throw those terms around, forgetting that others don’t know that your ‘nuclear family’ is the family you create after you get married. Lots of people try to make sure their nuclear family ends up nothing like their dysfunctional ‘family of origin.’

“What the hell? Is that a fancy way of saying you’re trying to worry about Aunt Lulu and me and the boys? You can stop that, because we’re doing fine,” Bill said. “It’ll just be harder on you to make plans for the boys and get them to me, but work isn’t crazy this week so if that’s what you want to do, go for it.”

“But what do you think I ought to do?” I pressed. I was thinking about the three boys I haven’t seen in several days already, and the fact that no one would be there to fix decent dinners. My sons were probably missing buttoning my clothes and blowdrying my hair.

“Honey, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime event and you’re already up there. It seems clear to me. You should stay. Aunt Lulu needs you more than we do right now.”

Those were exactly the words I needed to hear. So I’m staying.

Lulu’s taking suggestions on anything she can do to induce labor. She’s eaten mounds of lamb vindaloo, pineapple, eggplant, hot tamales, and fiber filled smoothies. Our current thinking is that perhaps eating spicy food encourages the baby to stay put. Lulu’s husband is from New Orleans and puts Tabasco on everything he eats even before he tastes it. My boys are convinced he puts it on ice cream and cereal but I think he’s joking when he says that. Anyway, his baby may be enjoying the ethnic foods, and Lulu is contemplating switching to a bland diet to lure the baby out.

When we walk down the street, Lulu addresses her belly and says, “Mama will put some breastmilk in a bottle and add some Tabasco if you come on out!” in her sweetest, most southern twang.

We’ve been walking in the Park each morning, and last night Lulu trudged up and down the stairs of the Met while her husband was running. I bet that was worth seeing. She got a pedicure and asked for extra foot rubbing, but that didn’t seem to produce any results.

If you’ve got helpful exercises, let us know, but I’ll go ahead and tell you that she does not intend to rub her nipples for six hours a day, even if doing so will guarantee a delivery in twenty-four hours. There’s a point at which fun experimentation crosses the line into madness, and that’s where she draws the line.

So Babywatch 2006 continues. We’re running last minute errands and getting excited.

Keep the prayers coming for a safe delivery!

ps - If any readers in Manhattan know someone who can saw off this cast, PLEASE contact me! My doctor in Alabama has cleared me for cast removal, and I have my splint up here. I really need to get this smelly thing off before I start hacking on it manically with a steak knife. Plus it’s easier to cuddle a baby without fiberglass in the way. anneglamoreATgmailDOTcom Thanks!