Special Days

This is a very Special day in Hobbs, New Mexico. Old Newsie and Lady B. are celebrating their wedding anniversary. They are a funny couple who were lucky enough to find each other when they thought they were past the being in love stage. Lady B., who is always carefully coiffed and made up, lives in a neat tidy world with her incredible collection of Barbie dolls and her long time friends in town. Old Newsie has never worried about what he's wearing and spends most days trying to find his desk (under a ton of important pieces of paper). They somehow manage to complement each other very well. Happy Anniversary and many more.

"And now for something completely different". The second installment of my first ever TriBlog. A time when Dad had a trio of other women, Grandma Shasta, Scrabblebuff, and me, ruling his life.

Happy Fathers Day x 8

When last we met in Nostalgiaville, your intrepid heroine-that's me- had sacrificed her (hoped for) girlish figure and downed an extra-large Strawberry milkshake after a harrowing journey over perilous potholes, all in hopes of producing a 3rd generation birthday heir. Not for the first, or last time, one of my brainstorms didn't work.

But there was still hope, for Father's Day fell on June 15th in 1969! I could score lots of Brownie points if I made, Jim a Daddy, Old Newsie and Dad2, Grandpas and my Grandad a Great Grandfather on Father's Day all with one big push! This was what I had really been hoping would happen and had prepared for.

Earlier in the week, the soon to be Jamie/Vanessa and I had talked this plan over and we went to the card shop on Park Street. There, we read every single Father's Day card in the store and proceeded to make selections covering any contingency. Mrs. Tetraualt wore a big smile when she was ringing up our purchases. I had eight cards in my bag.
From Daddy's Little Girl.

To My Dad From His Little Champ


Happy Father's Day Grandfather from your Little Princess

To Grandfather on Father's Day From His First Grandson

To Grampa on Fathers Day From His Granddaughter

To Grampa on Father's Day, Here I am, Carrying on Your Name.

Happy Fathers Day Great Grand Dad

Happy Father's day Great Grand Dad from your Little One.

I was so pleased with myself for this foresight. I was imagining the baffled look on all those guys as I presented them with the proper cards from my hospital bed.
Once the birthdays had passed, I was finally allowed to go to bed.

I awoke about 5 in the morning, with the first hint that Jamie/Vanessa was doing his/her part to pull this off. I remember how excited I was by a tiny tinge of pink. I sat on the edge of our bed bouncing up and down slightly until Jim woke up.

"What's going on?"

" I'm showing!"

"Oh My God! Does it hurt? Are you okay? Is the baby okay? What should I do? What do you want? Shall I call the doctor? Do you need anything?"

"Yes, I need you to quiet down before you wake up the whole house!"

Too late!

Thump! thump! thump! on the bedroom door...

"Marcie , Jim are you in there?"

"Of course we are, Dad."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep. I'm sorry we woke you up."

"Honey," to Jim, who is frantically pacing the floor, "come back to bed, nothing is happening yet. I'm going to go back to sleep."

And I did - for about twenty minutes.

Thump! thump! thump!

"Marcie, do want me to call the doctor?"

"No, Daddy. I just want to sleep for a while."

And I did - for about twenty minutes.

"Honey, I think we should go downstairs so I can keep an eye on you."

"You can't keep an eye on me in the same bed?"

"Well yeah, but the phone is downstairs."

To make a long story short, which was impossible 40 years ago, they made me lay on the couch from 6 o'clock in the morning on. Dad and Jim took turns staring at me and willing things to start happening. Around 7:30 Mom came down stairs and gave me a sympathetic hug. I got up and walked into the kitchen with her to get something to eat. That's when the 1st twinge hit. It wasn't much just somehow different than any of the practice contractions I'd experienced over the past few days. "Please don't tell them!" I pleaded, backing up and right into Jim.

"Don't tell us what?"

"She just had her first contraction but it's nothing to get concerned about, remember last Friday."

On Friday I'd had an afternoon of Braxton Hicks or false contractions. They had gone away when I took a shower and everyone got mad at me. Jim jumped for the wall phone, Mom grabbed it first and said, "uh..uh...uh, wait a little while."

He acquiesced but naturally went right back to report to Dad what was going on. I had to fight with them to have any breakfast because "everyone knows" you aren't supposed to eat before you give birth!

Same argument for lunch. After lunch Jim finally decided to call Mom2 who wanted to come right down to rush me to the hospital. My mother managed to dissuade her of that and even invited her to come down and attend Baby Watch. Thankfully, Mom2 had her usual houseful of Sunday guests who would certainly all rush to the hospital together when Jimmy called them to say "It's time". Naturally, that's something he would stop and take time to do because she made him promise. At our house, my sister and brother had friends over, I remember asking Mom if they were charging people to come watch the spectacle.

In the middle of the afternoon, I got up to visit the powder room upstairs. Dad and Jim had been taking turns napping in the recliners so they would have plenty of energy when it was needed. (Any time I dozed off one of them would shake me awake, yelling "What's wrong?") Dad had decreed that Jim was to accompany me to the bathroom anytime I needed to use it all day. But Jim was asleep just then and Dad was persuaded to draw the line at some things.

Once I managed to haul my over-sized body up the stairs and down the hallway to the bathroom, I realized I was alone for the first moment all day. Of course, I was going to take a shower! So I climbed into the old fashioned tub and started the water, completely forgetting that the pipes would squeal and clank and betray my nefarious scheme.

Thump! thump! thump!

"What are you doing in there?"

"Just cooling off, Dad."

"No! Don't take a shower!"

"Daddy, I'm hot and sweaty and very uncomfortable."

Poor Mom was convinced to sit on the toilet until I was finished. We were laughing so hard at my two favorite men, she finally had to get Jim to haul me out of the tub because I sat down to let the water just run on my back.

The evening didn't go much better. I had finally allowed Jim to call the doctor when my contractions reached 8 minutes apart. He said that since I was less than five minutes from the hospital I should wait until the five minute point or until I became truly uncomfortable. In the meantime, he was going to take a nap.

Jim's parents required an hourly update and I let him handle it. I had enough to do with my own side of the family. Thank God for my mother, She managed to keep both of the guys from loving me to death. She rubbed my feet and back and kept me laughing when the pains came. Then around 11 o'clock the contractions stopped. They just plain quit. I apologized to everyone for missing yet another special occasion and, with Mom behind me, I went up to bed. I think she was exhausted too. We both went to bed while Jim and Dad started watching a movie.

In my child's baby book there are 4 unused cards and a dozen sheets of paper from a scratch pad neatly ruled, columned, and labeled, by Dad of course,

Time ...duration... interval... strength .

This last is hysterical; notations such as "good one, nothing much, strong" ratings made by my observers - not me. In neat penmanship- (Dad's) and chicken scratches (Jim's) there is a moment by moment history of June 15th, 1969 from 7:30 AM to 11PM. A Fathers Day when I forgot to give my Dad the card I bought him from me!

Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of this very long weekend.
Yarntangler