Sunday, January 11, 2009

Oh No.

So Husband is up at the altar all dressed in his rental...standing on the side for his friend, who is about to enter into matrimony.
And I'm Wife, "getting to know" new people. Getting to know these attached friends and their friends and some of the people he wished he'd never see again...and I'm also getting to know the new significant ohhs. So, I'm dealing. I'm on it. Even if I have two mini humans poised to thwart my every classy move.
The girl deals. The Church setting chills her..she's fine. The boy. Well, he's little.
I'm pew-side. Smiling. I'm approachable...and friendly, see?? Right? Regardless of what my nearest and dearest say of my demeanor...
All of the sudden, boy gets down on floor.
Quiet moment of Ceremony.
Vast open Church.
Boy starts grunting.
I lock eyes on my husband....praying. Praying he doesn't hear. Because if he does, we're done.
If he sees a glimpse of snickerness, we're done. If he sees me blink in awareness of what boy is currently unleashing in his Pampers, we're done. If. He. For. One. Second. Catches on to what is happening, and he for ONE Second finds it AT ALL funny....WE, are done.
If he starts, we are done.
We ruin months of planning.
Years of fairy-tale dreams.
If he starts, we welcome talk.
If he starts, it's over. It's become his ceremony.
Of what, I don't know.
I look down...I'm choking.
The boy is still delivering. Still grunting and it's echoing in yodel-like form.
Dogs are howling a return..
Natives are yelling "Over HERE!" for no reason....but just for the need to respond to the loudness of this communication.
The boy is pooping. And it's work. It's birth.
And if husband hears it..hears grunting, AT ALL...he'll know the source, he'll look up...he'll look at me..and then we'll be done. He'll lose his shit sounds like crying...but he's laughing, I'll say...I promise...he's laughing.....
And then I'll crack. I will.
And then.....

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