Ralph, Fred, Billy, and Me
Cloudy, 77/60, Change to Rain. Mamma goats are getting bigger as kidding season begins. I fertilized Tuesday in anticipation of the 80% chance of rain yesterday. Needless to say, no rain. This whole drought thing just gets more and more frustrating. It impacted this years crops, now it looks like it might have a big impact on next years.
Oh kidding season has started here and with that are the usual comments my wife makes about men in general, me in specifics. The other day, one of the nannies was giving birth and Billy was about 100 yards away not paying attention, and it brought up thoughts about the birth of my two children….. and how Billy and I handled it about the same way.
My buddies were all going through the “child birth” experience about the time Kathy and I were. They were talking about how “we had the baby together” and how precious the video was etc… My wife grabbed me by the face and gave me two rules. 1. NO VIDEO!! And 2. “We” don’t give birth. “She” gives birth. “He” stands by and watches. Well I told her “He” doesn’t want his first memory of the baby to be a kid covered with cottage cheese, so “he” will be in the waiting room. Plus, I only remember watching two baby birth episodes on TV. They were on the Honeymooners, and the Flintstones. In both those episodes Ralph and Fred paced outside the delivery room while their wife gave birth and they seemed no worse for wear.
This worked out well for the first boy. I sat about 100 yards away in the waiting room eating a snickers (not unlike Billy), while my wife was moaning and screaming our way through the first baby boy. Everything seemed fine, but the rules were going to change for the second one. I was going to be in there.
Well the fateful day arrived. We had compromised that I would be in for the labor, but when it came time for rolling her into the delivery room, you could color me gone. She agreed and everything was proceeding well, until they hooked up the contraction monitor.
I’m sure they just use this machine to laugh at the dumb husbands. I know I was one. The lines on the strip would get bigger every time my wife was going through a contraction and I’d say something brilliant like “here comes another one”, or “hang on honey, this looks like a big one”. Finally my wife had had enough and told me that the good Lord had set up a way for her to naturally monitor her contractions and the last thing she needed now was a “play by play” guy in the labor room.
The contractions were getting closer, and the gurney was rolled in, I kissed my wife goodbye and was getting up to leave, when I noticed three delivery nurses all in a row. My wife (the ER nurse) had talked her L&D co workers into kidnapping me and taking me into the delivery room. I realized this because the nurses were talking to me calmly while I was inching towards the door, when all at once my wife yelled “get him”, or “Don’t let the %*&&#$!! leave”, or something like that.
Well the first two were pretty easy to get around with a simple head fake. But a nurse who had to be named Beulah was on the other side of them and she looked experienced at this sort of thing. I put on a spin move the Green Bay Packers would have been proud of though when Beulah grabbed for my shirt. I had been smart enough (or unfashionable enough) to wear 100% polyester that day and as I slipped through the last nurses fingers I heard my wife yell “Brad !! Get back heeerreeeaaayyyeeeeeeee!!!” (thank goodness, another contraction).
Well, back in the pasture, momma goat needs no help as she’s having twins. My wife says “I think we need to bring Billy over here to see what’s happening. Billy looks up from the grass, I’m sure he’s sizing up my wife…… his Beulah……thinking about which fake to use……
Oh kidding season has started here and with that are the usual comments my wife makes about men in general, me in specifics. The other day, one of the nannies was giving birth and Billy was about 100 yards away not paying attention, and it brought up thoughts about the birth of my two children….. and how Billy and I handled it about the same way.
My buddies were all going through the “child birth” experience about the time Kathy and I were. They were talking about how “we had the baby together” and how precious the video was etc… My wife grabbed me by the face and gave me two rules. 1. NO VIDEO!! And 2. “We” don’t give birth. “She” gives birth. “He” stands by and watches. Well I told her “He” doesn’t want his first memory of the baby to be a kid covered with cottage cheese, so “he” will be in the waiting room. Plus, I only remember watching two baby birth episodes on TV. They were on the Honeymooners, and the Flintstones. In both those episodes Ralph and Fred paced outside the delivery room while their wife gave birth and they seemed no worse for wear.
This worked out well for the first boy. I sat about 100 yards away in the waiting room eating a snickers (not unlike Billy), while my wife was moaning and screaming our way through the first baby boy. Everything seemed fine, but the rules were going to change for the second one. I was going to be in there.
Well the fateful day arrived. We had compromised that I would be in for the labor, but when it came time for rolling her into the delivery room, you could color me gone. She agreed and everything was proceeding well, until they hooked up the contraction monitor.
I’m sure they just use this machine to laugh at the dumb husbands. I know I was one. The lines on the strip would get bigger every time my wife was going through a contraction and I’d say something brilliant like “here comes another one”, or “hang on honey, this looks like a big one”. Finally my wife had had enough and told me that the good Lord had set up a way for her to naturally monitor her contractions and the last thing she needed now was a “play by play” guy in the labor room.
The contractions were getting closer, and the gurney was rolled in, I kissed my wife goodbye and was getting up to leave, when I noticed three delivery nurses all in a row. My wife (the ER nurse) had talked her L&D co workers into kidnapping me and taking me into the delivery room. I realized this because the nurses were talking to me calmly while I was inching towards the door, when all at once my wife yelled “get him”, or “Don’t let the %*&&#$!! leave”, or something like that.
Well the first two were pretty easy to get around with a simple head fake. But a nurse who had to be named Beulah was on the other side of them and she looked experienced at this sort of thing. I put on a spin move the Green Bay Packers would have been proud of though when Beulah grabbed for my shirt. I had been smart enough (or unfashionable enough) to wear 100% polyester that day and as I slipped through the last nurses fingers I heard my wife yell “Brad !! Get back heeerreeeaaayyyeeeeeeee!!!” (thank goodness, another contraction).
Well, back in the pasture, momma goat needs no help as she’s having twins. My wife says “I think we need to bring Billy over here to see what’s happening. Billy looks up from the grass, I’m sure he’s sizing up my wife…… his Beulah……thinking about which fake to use……
posted by Brad Bachelor at 4:29 AM
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