When the expectant niece asks a question…

Standard

She asks in the digital Facebook, “Any last-minute advice?”

My comment, assuming there is not a gender restriction, although I can admit that it sounded like she aimed for those mom’s that have gone through it before, “Don’t get pregnant in the first place? Passing a bowling ball through your eye socket would be less painful.”

Her friends called me the awkward uncle.

Well. No. Just wise. I have delivered 17 babies, most on mountain roads with drive times still greater than half-hour.  I have observed the pain women-folk go through – and I have seen the men-folk panic, and even faint. (I  found out later that one of these passed-out pops played as captain of the football team and was “used to pain.”)

I can speak Awkward, and a few other languages. Gibberish, Klingon, Confusion. Political gives me trouble. I still don’t understand that doublespeak tripe, especially if they say something akin “What is good for me is over your head, so we will take it from you.”

Heh, I still think they should just open a brothel (for men and women) in the capital building so they can get enough of screwing people to get down to real business.

But I digress. Sorry.

Anyway, by the time anyone delivers a baby, they get to a point where they crush the husband/boyfriend/significant other’s fingers (Or mine when I was green-ish, it only happened once – I learned quick) and utter a 3 word demand.

“I want DRUGS!”

(Laugh allowed at this point and the mom’s out there can nod heads with a knowing smile)

But no matter what you say. Any part of the family of phrases “I won’t want to do this anymore.” Has been said since before recorded history, because the baby is coming and you are on a non-stop ride.

Unless c-section intervention, but that is another ball-game.

So ladies, no offense, but those that have one child and don’t learn? Then go ahead and have another? Then another?

You all remind me of George of the Jungle.

“Watch out for that Tree… oOoH.”

Then you get on that vine again and swing for it.

“Watch out for that Tree… That’s gotta hurt.”

Then…

“Watch … never mind.” I’ll just go sit in the backyard with my bow, laptop to write and seltzer water in the shade.

keep telling myself: “Ain’t my circus. I’m just the Awkward Uncle.”

Now off to do compose some fiction.  I have a bunch of voices pop up last night in my sleep, a few were frightening.

I hope to get you a chapter in something.

I’ll have it posted in five hours.

Dash

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Sail into the harbor of my soul; tell me your heart

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