February 28, 2003
It's time for an update on the special events I mentioned in Monday's entry:It looks like the baby arrival is going to win. At least, we sure hope so (by all that is holy, and by half the things that are not, I might add), because Sandra has been in something sharply resembling labor since Tuesday night.It's called "latent labor" and it usually lasts from two to six hours. It's not unheard of for it to last two WEEKS, however. At any rate, the sharp resemblence is based in part on the fact that it induces the same sort of sleep deprivation that active labor does, and it hurts enough to remind you that active labor is going to hurt more than you remembered it hurting last time.
Yes, we're opting for the epidural. Yes, we've been in for exams (twice) since this started, and my second son seems fine with everything.
If any of you well-wishers out there want to email me kind thoughts for Sandra, I'll pass them along. They might show up after the baby does (hoping again by the holy, the unholy, and whatever is handy) but I've found that kind thoughts tend to keep well. They never go stale.
The other thing to note is that I left an event off of the list: my very own birthday. Now let's be clear on one thing -- my REAL birthday is on February 29th (so there is pretty much no chance that my boy and I will be sharing a birthday, as he'd have to arrive in 366 days). But for the purposes of people sending me birthday cards, cake, wishes of prosperity, or actual prosperity, today will do. Or tomorrow.
Most folks don't get to increment their cake-a-riffic little age-counters on an anti-birthday, but us leap-kids do. This year I turn thirty-five (no jokes about counting birthdays, please. Gilbert and Sullivan already did that one to death in Pirates of Penzance, and you're not likely to be funnier than they were. The United States Government informed me years ago that I was eligible for the draft, so apparently they've figured out a way to count years without February 29th rolling around regularly), which means I'm now old enough to be elected President of the United States. Now before you rush out and prepare to write me onto your favorite stupid-Floridian-butterfly-style ballot, bear in mind that I have decided to concede the office of President to someone else. You see, it has come to my attention that every last man who has been elected to sit in the Oval Office has not gone on to take over the world. It's obviously not a good career move, if you're planning on being upwardly mobile.
(Presidents also don't get to speak in parentheses much. If it weren't for parentheses, I don't think I'd ever be able to finish one of these entrys.)