Big Daddy swears that this is the best restaurant in the history of the world.
I disagree.
For those of you "unfortunate" enough (according to Wiki, it's mainly people in Texas and California who are blessed enough to have one of these fine dining establishments) to have never tasted this haute cuisine, imagine school chili dogs they charge you three bucks a piece for, and ya got it.
Big Daddy was excited, dare I say, thrilled, when the hospital where we were going to have The Kid induced was down the street from one of these babies. Not impressed that the hospital had an excellent birthing rooms. Not that the they had one of the best neonatal records in the state. Nope, what he cared about was that he could buy chili cheese dogs while I was in the hospital, birthing and recovering.
Heck. Yeah.
Since The Kid was going to be induced, we went in the night before for some special, magical gel which would aid in her coming more quickly. No food or water after 5 pm! Then we drove the hour back home with said gel applied, to wait and see if it worked.
It didn't.
The next day (no food or water!) we went back to the hospital to get this show on the road,so to speak. As I am lying there, hooked up to IVs, big belly jutting like Mt. Everest into the air, no food or water for almost 18 hours, my dear, sweet husband looks out the window and exclaims, "Oh look!!!! It's a Wienerschnitzel!!!! I'm STARVING!!!! Is it all right if I go eat for awhile? It's not like you're going anywhere."
I answered, "Of course, it's fine."
Public Service announcement #9784: When a woman says it's fine, it NEVER is.
My husband, however, had never heard that public service announcement so off he went blithely skipping away to his culinary nirvana, leaving in his wake a pissed off wife in labor.
Now if I had the capability to put a poll into the blog right about here, I would, but I can guess what most of you would vote without a high tech fancy poll: Big Daddy messed up.
While he was gone chowing down on a couple of chili cheese dogs, french fries, and a medium Dr. Pepper, his starving, loving wife's water broke and her contractions grew stronger, as did her ire.
My sweet, oblivious hubby brought back his empty Dr. Pepper cup in order to rattle the ice and chew on it.
There are a couple of things that drive me nuts in this life..... people smacking, the sound of an empty water bottle being rolled between someone's hands, and the sound of someone rattling a cup and then chewing ice always gets to me....... ESPECIALLY when I'm in labor and have been begging the Baby Nurse Nazi for a stinkin' ice chip. Not even an ice cube did I want. An ice chip.....'cause that extra 1/8 tsp of water is gonna mess all kinds of things up.
Baby Nurse, drunk with prenatal power, wouldn't give it to me though. It was bad for me. It had been almost 24 hours at this point with no food and no water.
THAT was bad for me.
I was mouth breathing like a Lamaze machine, and I couldn't get a piece of ice to wet my whistle. Are you kidding me?
At that moment, here came my hubby, all satisfied and smelling of grease and Dr. Pepper. Those of you who know me in real life, know that Dr. Pepper is my Kryptonite. I like to call it Sweet Nectar of the Gods. There was Big Daddy rattling the cup and chomping down ice. It raked across my nerves like a toddlers' earache convention on an airplane.
"Anything happen while I was gone?" RATTLE, RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP.
"My water broke," I said sweetly.
RATTLE.RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP. "It did? Good! I was worried about that part," he confessed.
I licked my lips and calculated the distance from the hospital bed to the chair and if I could make it before Baby Nurse Nazi made it back.
"Give me a piece of your ice. I'm dying here," I begged.
"I don't think I can. What did the nurse say?" RATTLE. RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP.
"That I'm in labor and get to kill anyone who comes in my room drinking Dr. Pepper and eating ice."
RATTLE. RATTLE. "What?" CHOMP. CHOMP.
"WILL YOU THROW THAT DAMN CUP AWAY BEFORE I MURDER SOMEONE? SPECIFICALLY YOU?"
"What?!?" he asked all innocent and shocked, cup halfway to his lips. He had heard stories of women turning into crazy people in the delivery room, and his eyes told me he thought I'd crossed the line.
"Please, throw away the cup. Baby Nurse Nazi won't give me any ice, and the sound of you chewing ice is driving me nuts!"
"Well, excuse me," he said, hurt.
Great, now his feelings were hurt, and I didn't have the time or the energy to deal with that. He threw the cup away.
Two hours, and a half of cup of ice chips later (FINALLY!), we had The Kiddo, staring up at us with her precious, round cue-ball face.
Funny how my least favorite restaurant in the world and my daughter are all mixed up in my memory of that day. Big Daddy rolls his eyes when I remember that day. His memory doesn't gel with mine.
I'm just thankful they weren't having a sale on large drinks.
Big Daddy was excited, dare I say, thrilled, when the hospital where we were going to have The Kid induced was down the street from one of these babies. Not impressed that the hospital had an excellent birthing rooms. Not that the they had one of the best neonatal records in the state. Nope, what he cared about was that he could buy chili cheese dogs while I was in the hospital, birthing and recovering.
Heck. Yeah.
Since The Kid was going to be induced, we went in the night before for some special, magical gel which would aid in her coming more quickly. No food or water after 5 pm! Then we drove the hour back home with said gel applied, to wait and see if it worked.
It didn't.
The next day (no food or water!) we went back to the hospital to get this show on the road,so to speak. As I am lying there, hooked up to IVs, big belly jutting like Mt. Everest into the air, no food or water for almost 18 hours, my dear, sweet husband looks out the window and exclaims, "Oh look!!!! It's a Wienerschnitzel!!!! I'm STARVING!!!! Is it all right if I go eat for awhile? It's not like you're going anywhere."
I answered, "Of course, it's fine."
Public Service announcement #9784: When a woman says it's fine, it NEVER is.
My husband, however, had never heard that public service announcement so off he went blithely skipping away to his culinary nirvana, leaving in his wake a pissed off wife in labor.
Now if I had the capability to put a poll into the blog right about here, I would, but I can guess what most of you would vote without a high tech fancy poll: Big Daddy messed up.
While he was gone chowing down on a couple of chili cheese dogs, french fries, and a medium Dr. Pepper, his starving, loving wife's water broke and her contractions grew stronger, as did her ire.
My sweet, oblivious hubby brought back his empty Dr. Pepper cup in order to rattle the ice and chew on it.
There are a couple of things that drive me nuts in this life..... people smacking, the sound of an empty water bottle being rolled between someone's hands, and the sound of someone rattling a cup and then chewing ice always gets to me....... ESPECIALLY when I'm in labor and have been begging the Baby Nurse Nazi for a stinkin' ice chip. Not even an ice cube did I want. An ice chip.....'cause that extra 1/8 tsp of water is gonna mess all kinds of things up.
Baby Nurse, drunk with prenatal power, wouldn't give it to me though. It was bad for me. It had been almost 24 hours at this point with no food and no water.
THAT was bad for me.
I was mouth breathing like a Lamaze machine, and I couldn't get a piece of ice to wet my whistle. Are you kidding me?
At that moment, here came my hubby, all satisfied and smelling of grease and Dr. Pepper. Those of you who know me in real life, know that Dr. Pepper is my Kryptonite. I like to call it Sweet Nectar of the Gods. There was Big Daddy rattling the cup and chomping down ice. It raked across my nerves like a toddlers' earache convention on an airplane.
"Anything happen while I was gone?" RATTLE, RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP.
"My water broke," I said sweetly.
RATTLE.RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP. "It did? Good! I was worried about that part," he confessed.
I licked my lips and calculated the distance from the hospital bed to the chair and if I could make it before Baby Nurse Nazi made it back.
"Give me a piece of your ice. I'm dying here," I begged.
"I don't think I can. What did the nurse say?" RATTLE. RATTLE. CHOMP. CHOMP.
"That I'm in labor and get to kill anyone who comes in my room drinking Dr. Pepper and eating ice."
RATTLE. RATTLE. "What?" CHOMP. CHOMP.
"WILL YOU THROW THAT DAMN CUP AWAY BEFORE I MURDER SOMEONE? SPECIFICALLY YOU?"
"What?!?" he asked all innocent and shocked, cup halfway to his lips. He had heard stories of women turning into crazy people in the delivery room, and his eyes told me he thought I'd crossed the line.
"Please, throw away the cup. Baby Nurse Nazi won't give me any ice, and the sound of you chewing ice is driving me nuts!"
"Well, excuse me," he said, hurt.
Great, now his feelings were hurt, and I didn't have the time or the energy to deal with that. He threw the cup away.
Two hours, and a half of cup of ice chips later (FINALLY!), we had The Kiddo, staring up at us with her precious, round cue-ball face.
Funny how my least favorite restaurant in the world and my daughter are all mixed up in my memory of that day. Big Daddy rolls his eyes when I remember that day. His memory doesn't gel with mine.
I'm just thankful they weren't having a sale on large drinks.
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