I am supposed to be in labor, either in pulsating agony with the human experience or in numb participation with modern medicine, I hadn't quite decided yet. I am supposed to be holding this new baby in my arms by lunchtime. Owen and Helen are supposed to be at Grandma's house, eating cookies and listening to stories. Jason is supposed to be flipping through channels in the hospital room giving me an occasional back massage.
Two minutes before we walked out the door to our scheduled change in life, the phone rang. A labor and delivery nurse--they needed to bump me back because of another situation that had arisen. They'll call back around 9 at the earliest.
Oh well. At least now I can...
...cut up and freeze the okra I picked in the garden last night.
...finish another baby blanket for a gift.
...wash one more round of dishes.
...vacuum one last time, again.
...fold the clothes in the dryer and put them away, again.
...sneak a contraband bowl of Fruity Pebbles because doggone it, I'm hungry.