Hi everyone. My name is John Cave Osborne and I’m married to the lovely and charming Caroline. And I’d like to welcome you to the Wives’ Tale portion of her much ballyhooed pregnancy. Though she would probably refer to it as the Something’s Gotta Give portion. Because, well, something’s gotta give with this kid.
I mean for days now we’ve been living under “any minute” status. Yet for days now? Nothing. Zip. Nada. And it’s starting to feel as if we’re Waiting for Godot over here. Caroline? She’s had about enough of it. As such, she’s been consulting various wives’ tales in hopes of enticing the little fella out of her womb, dropping said wives’ tales (out of nowhere) in casual conversation as if they were as ordinary as items on our grocery list.
Stimulate Your What?
“My nipples, you dumbass,” she replied curtly while making her way to the laundry room.
“Are you saying it’s common knowledge that nipple stimulation will induce labor for women who are near the end of their pregnancy?”
“No. I’m not saying that at all.”
“Then why did you call me a dumbass?”
“Because I felt like it, honey. Oh. And because you’re kind of a dumbass.”
“So are you gonna try it?” I asked.
“Are you kidding me? No way,” she concluded as she closed the dryer door, then briskly walked by. “Dumbass.”
Earlier today, Caroline informed me that castor oil has been known to induce labor if you’re at or near 40 weeks.
“Does that mean I can watch NASCAR tomorrow?”
“Why would it mean that you can watch NASCAR tomorrow?”
“I dunno. Because it makes me think of NASCAR, I suppose.”
“Why does it make you think of NASCAR?”
“The name, I guess. Not the castrol part, but the oil part.”
“Cas-tor oil, honey. Cas-tor oil. You don’t even know what it is, do you?” she asked.
“Yes I do,” I lied. Badly.
“Okay, then, what is it?”
“Some type of lubricant used to… stimulate your nipples?” I deadpanned, relieved, at least, to get in the last word. Just as I expected, silence follwed my triumphant conversation ender.
Until Caroline thought of one more thing to say, that is.
“And that reminds you of NASCAR?”
Note to self: she’s good. Real good.
Maybe Grand Finale Will Hop on the Bang-Bang Train
So sex with a woman who’s nearly 40 weeks pregnant will induce labor? Really?
While I can neither confirm nor deny anything as it pertains to this particular wives’ tale, I can tell you this. There has, in fact, been some discussion of the Bang-Bang train leaving the station (where he’s remained dormant for several listless weeks now) so he can chug on along towards the, um, tunnel. I can also tell you this. If we did, indeed, decide to let the
little engine that could, big-ass locomotive blow a little smoke out his chimney, it was strictly a joyride. Because nothing happened.
Assuming we let him out of the station in the first place, that is.
Spicy Foods and Pineapple
“And she said it was just a normal night, but they got La Paz and—”
“Chez Guevara,” I interrupted.
“What?” Caroline asked.
“Chez Guevara. La Paz isn’t the name any longer. It’s Chez Guevara.”
“I know that. Everyone knows that. But everyone still calls it La Paz.”
“Yet the establishment now goes by Chez Guevara.”
“What’s your point?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Except, I suppose, that I wonder why everyone still insists on calling it La Paz.”
“Well you know what I’m wondering?” asked Caroline.
“When this baby’s gonna get here, so will you please let me continue?”
“Anyway, it was just a normal night and she ate a real spicy dish at La Paz and BOOM, she had her baby.”
“NO, not right there.”
“Good, because that’d be like a health code violation or something. You know, like that Indian place where the food-inspector guy found mouse droppings in the kitchen.”
“Wow, honey. As super-interested as I am about this mouse-shit tangent you’re about to take, is it okay with you if we return to the topic of having this baby?”
“But of course.”
“Anyway,” continued Caroline, “I think we should eat something spicy tonight. And pineapple. Pineapple’s supposed to work, too. So let’s eat something spicy and be sure to have pineapple, too.”
It just so happens that in our freezer we still have a rack of ribs which I smoked two weeks ago. And they’re pretty spicy. I can only assume that we’ll be having pineapple for dessert.
Wish us luck. I’m not sure how much more of this we can take…