I’m at the doctor’s. One of the nurses is obviously very pregnant.
Me: “So, when are you due?”
Nurse: *Stares daggers at me* “I’m not pregnant.”
Me: “Nice try, but I heard you talking to the other nurse about being pregnant.”
Nurse: *Smiling* “Dang.”
My niece takes a class in high school where you’re given a robotic baby that cries and records when you feed it, change it, turn it off, or whatever. For the most part, the baby is really easy. On the last night, however…
It’s around two in the morning. My mom and I are both night owls, so we go to the kitchen for a snack. My niece is still awake, and it’s a school night… and the robot baby has been crying for hours.
Niece: “This isn’t like a real baby! Real babies go to sleep!”
My mom and I start laughing.
Me: “You’ve never heard of colic?!”
Mom: “Your father didn’t stop crying or sleep through the night for two years! And I had to take your brother twice a week so your mom could get some sleep since he was making her sick with exhaustion!”
Four years later, my niece got married and had a baby. The baby is a year old and still hasn’t slept through the night. I guess real babies don’t stop crying, either!
He doesn’t cry all day and is super adorable. He just doesn’t sleep through the night.
My fiance and I are discussing our upcoming wedding at a family event for my side of the family. One of my elderly relatives is VERY opinionated and thinks that her way is the only way. My husband has just told her that we have booked an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica for our honeymoon. My boss goes to this specific resort every year and he recommended it highly, so we booked it.
Elderly Relative: “Why don’t you go to the Poconos? One of my neighbors went to the Poconos on their honeymoon and they loved it! You don’t have to fly there.”
It is worth noting that my family lives in central Delaware, a roughly three-hour drive from the Poconos. My husband is stationed at the nearby Air Force base. I am a truck driver for a food service company and the honeymoon resorts in the Poconos are on my route, so I drive there several times a week.
Me: “Why would we want to go to the Poconos? The weather is going to be the same as it is in Dover and I drive there several times a week for work. We are getting married in October and we want a real getaway.”
Elderly Relative: “But the resorts in the Poconos have the most delicious food! My friend says that they got to see a lingerie show there and they got to feed deer!”
Me: “First of all, the quality of the food that I deliver to the honeymoon resort restaurants is very low, the kitchens smell bad, and the places are extremely dated; they get very poor reviews online. In fact, one reviewer referred to one of the resorts as ‘welfare Sandals.’ Second of all, a lingerie show is not our idea of fun. We want to get on an airplane and escape our day-to-day lives.”
Elderly Relative: “What does Jamaica have that the Poconos doesn’t have?”
Me: “Umm, beaches, gourmet food, amazing spas, and world-class service?”
Elderly Relative: “But the Poconos are cheaper and they are closer!”
I look up the Poconos resorts on my travel app.
Me: “No, the Poconos are not cheaper! According to [Travel Site], they are actually more expensive than the deal we got on the trip to Jamaica. We are flying out of Baltimore Washington International and it is only a two-hour drive from here so I am actually driving less. The flight is only three hours.”
Elderly Relative: “You are going to have a really bad time in Jamaica and wish that you went to the Poconos!”
We had an AMAZING time in Jamaica! We spent every morning eating the best breakfast buffet that we have ever had, on a terrace overlooking the Caribbean. We got a massage at the resort spa, which was very nice. The restaurants were second to none and the grounds were absolutely gorgeous. Our room overlooked the Caribbean and was amazing. It actually rained VERY heavily in the Poconos during the week of our honeymoon. So much for the bad time that we were expected to have in Jamaica!
My wife was in labor for about twenty hours before deciding to do a cesarean section. I am 6’8″ tall and about 300 pounds. During our visits through the pregnancy, I regularly joked around with the doctor. Even in the Lamaze classes, I would joke around, typically embarrassing my beautiful wife.
My oldest son was born via C-Section at 11:50 PM on March 31st. I was there, I watched, and I was exhausted. It was gruesome and awesome at the same time.
I was extremely emotional — had a son! I was crying tears of joy.
After he was extracted from his nine-month sentence inside of my wife, he was swaddled appropriately by the nurses in the operating room. We were both then whisked away: him to the nursery to get de-munged, and me to see my large family — brothers, parents,
Godparents, etc. — all of whom were at the hospital waiting in anticipation of the big event.
So, there I was, telling my family that we had a beautiful boy, and that everyone was okay. I was blubbering as tears were still streaming.
All of a sudden, in an over-the-top manner, a nurse came running around the corner and said, “Mr. [My Name], Mr. [My Name]! They need you back in the operating room! The second one just came out!”
Huh, what? What? WHAT?! Oh, my God! I started running down the hall to go back to the operating room. I’ve never been considered graceful, and it really wasn’t pretty to see me lumbering down the hall.
I heard the nurse call out again, “MR. [MY NAME]!”
My response was dramatic and immediate as I spun to look at her. “WHAT?” I exclaimed.
With a very calm demeanor and a twinkle in her eye, she said, very matter-of-factly, “April Fools.”
I could have been knocked over with a feather. I stammered and stammered. Meanwhile, my family, who witnessed the event, were in stitches enjoying the whole scene as it played out in front of them.
In the operating room, my wife was laughing (while being stitched back together). All of this was the doctor’s idea, II suppose a little of my own medicine after enduring me throughout the pregnancy.
It’s a story that I tell often, not only for the humor in it, but also because it was one of the greatest days of my life: the day I met a great person, my wonderful son.
(For my grandma’s 80th birthday, her kids all host a big party for her. My youngest uncle has just had a new house built, so that’s where it’s hosted. I’m the oldest grandkid; I am 17, while my uncle’s son is two years old. After spending the morning running around preparing and cleaning up the house, my two-year-old cousin — now very bored — begs me to play trains with him. It will keep him quiet and occupied in the back room until the party begins, so I agree. The next thing I know, I’m suddenly aware that there are four other kids in the back room with us, and there’s music and talking in the rest of the house. I’m about to go join the party when two little girls take over my cousin’s train set.)
Cousin: “No! No, no, no, no, no!” *begins to cry*
Me: “Hey, buddy, it’s all right. Look; they’ve got the red train and the blue train, and you can have the green train! That’s your favourite one!”
Cousin: “No!”
Me: “Okay, which train did you want?”
Cousin: “My trains.”
Me: “Yes, they’re your trains. The girls are just borrowing them for a little while. It’s important to share so that you can all play together.”
Cousin: “NOOO!” *throws himself on the ground, about to go full meltdown*
Me: “Right. I’m going to pick you up, and we’ll go find Mummy, okay?”
Cousin: “Nooo… ‘kay.”
(I wander out into the party, my cousin goes to cuddle with his mum until he feels better, and I go on my way to eat cake and talk to people I know.)
Lady: *grabbing my shoulder* “YOU!”
Me: “Uh, hello? I’m sorry, I don’t think I recognise you–”
Lady: “What are you doing outside the playroom?”
Me: “Sorry?”
Lady: “You’re going to be sorry. I went to check on my dears and found you missing.”
Me: “I don’t understand.”
Lady: “How dare you?! You’re getting paid good money to watch those kids, and you fob it off to steal party food?”
Me: “Paid?”
Lady: “When I checked, there was no one watching the kids. My girls were even about to get into a fight with each other. You’re going to get back there and do your job, and when I find [Aunt], I’ll see that she never hires you again.”
Me: “Can you let go of me now?”
Lady: “You need to learn some responsibility and–”
Dad: “[My Name], there you are. Come here; it’s time for the speeches. Oh, hello, Mrs. [Lady].”
Lady: *suddenly sickeningly pleasant* “Oh, hello, [Dad]. I haven’t seen you in years! How have you been? How’s [Mum] doing?”
Dad: “She’s fine. [My Name], this is [Lady]. She’s a part of Grandma’s congregation. I used to babysit her when I was your age.”
Lady: “You should have said you were related to [Grandma]. I thought you were the hired help.”
(I turn to look at the projector, showing photographs of Grandma through her life, right next to us. The current image is one of Grandma in her wedding dress; I have listened to twelve people today already marvel over how it looks just like me, before I’ve even introduced myself)
Me: “Sure. If you say so.”
