27 November 2008

Like Turkeys, Like Babies

We had Thanksgiving plans...we've had them for awhile. My husband was going to travel to Maryland to have dinner with his family, and I, who cannot go more than about 30 minutes without having to dash off to find a bathroom due to being rather huge at the moment, was going to stay here in Newport News with my parents for the traditional dinner. This had all been hammered out weeks beforehand, and was well under control.


I went out to lunch with my mom yesterday, and when we got back, there was a phone message waiting from my aunt. It seems my grandparents down in Florida (my mom's parents) BOTH took a tumble yesterday (Grandma went first, Grandpa tried to help her, and then he heard something crack). SO, my grandfather is in the ER, which is bad because he was Grandma's primary care giver (and she cannot see, can barely hear, and cannot walk). Two little old ladies who live next door are taking care of my Grandma for the night until my parents could get down to Florida, which they are in the midst of doing right now, since I think they were leaving around 7 AM.

I was there for all the drama yesterday as my mom tried to figure out what they were going to do, and once the decision was made to drive to FL, I took my parents' dog home with me since he would need a place to stay. I let Aaron know that all this was happening, and was fully prepared to do Thanksgiving on my own (well, me and two dogs), because sometimes bad luck just happens (it didn't mean the hormones wouldn't have made me cry about it, because they make me cry about a lot, but I would have dealt).

BUT, Aaron firmly declared that he certainly would NOT leave me home, alone, on a major holiday, which also happens to be our anniversary, while I am vastly pregnant. He called his mom right away, and before I could even tell him that I would be fine if he went up anyway, he was staying.

The interesting part of all of this is that my parents had an entire Thanksgiving meal ready to go. The turkey was thawed, and they had all the fixin's. So, along with a dog, I went home with a 15 pound turkey, potatoes, and broccoli. My eyes got a little big as my father loaded the turkey into a "keep cool" bag, and I told him, "But, but, I don't know HOW to make a turkey." His reply, "Yeah, but you know how to Google."

So Google I did, and I THINK I know what I'm doing now, and Aaron seems to think that I'll be just fine making this gigantic bird and not killing us all with salmonella poisoining. Of course, I don't really understand why I am making the turkey, since he has cooked whole turkeys in the past and I am a turkey-virgin (granted, he cooked his outside in a pit ala colonial style, but STILL, that's more than I have done).

I suppose that since I think I am ready to be a mom, I should be ready to embrace all the trappings of adulthood. I figured out how to buy my first car this year; I suppose I can figure out how to cook a turkey. The only thing that is bugging me about the bird is the timing. I think I have all the basics of preparation down, but all the websites are a little vague on the amount of time needed for the bird, and say that it just depends on the oven temperature, elevation, the retrograde of Mercury, etc..

Ironically, this is the only thing that bugs me about giving birth, too. I've taken the classes, so I understand basically what will be happening. Aaron and I have discussed plans with my parents, so we know who is coming to the hospital, who is watching the dog, etc.. I've talked with people and read internet sites, so I know what to put in the hospital bags and they have already been packed. The nursery, though not fully decorated, is functional and could safely house a baby starting any minute. The only thing that I haven't nailed down, that I just can't plan, is the WHEN for the baby. Being a slight (ahem) control freak, it really gets my goat that I don't have a specific day and time to have this child. I have been talking to the fetus, and trying to convince him/her of a specific day/time that we want to go, which my husband (and everyone else, though they are too polite to say) thinks is ludicrous, but what else am I supposed to do? Sit around and let nature take its course? What does nature know about my schedule?


Anyway, I am attempting to convince myself that giving birth will happen when it happens, and that I cannot control every facet of the pregnancy (nor probably of raising a child, either, but let's not get ahead of ourselves and blow my mind entirely). It's just kind of frustrating knowing that I am 35 weeks along, so the baby will probably come 3-7 weeks from now. That seems like a rather large margin of error, but c'est la vie, and all that.

(At least with a turkey, you can pop a thermometer in there to tell when it's done.)

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