STRESS REHEARSAL

When Michelle said her contraction was done I looked at the stopwatch and saw that it had lasted about a minute long. When she said a new one had started, that put the contractions at about four minutes apart. According to our prenatal classes, the timing was consistent with going into labour. Looked like we were having a baby.

But I won’t stretch this out in some attempt to build suspense ‘cause the title of this post kind of gives it away: this turned out to be just a dry run. Still, it was quite a thrill.

The most thrilling part? We were both so incredibly cool. As she lay there, telling me about the next contraction, we both looked at each other with some mix of amusement, excitement, and some disbelief, but there was no panic. If this was happening, we were ready.

Make no mistake, we weren’t ready. We still had essential items yet to be bought, an empty office waiting to be converted into a nursery. Plus, this was over a month too early to deliver. Technically the hospital was going to have to stall the labour, and who knew what that would be like?

Then there were the commitments that I would have to cancel, the schedule to be rearranged, plans to be scrapped.

Yet at the back of my mind was a voice perfectly free of doubt, assuring me: “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” And I believed it. We’ll get to the hospital. If we have a baby, we’ll get all the stuff we need later. Plans will take a back seat to this. And so I just sat on the bed beside her, holding the stopwatch in one hand and reading Wizard magazine in the other. We’d deal.

Within a couple of hours the cramping pains subsided. A friend told Michelle over the phone that it was a classic case of Braxton-Hicks contractions. I guess those are the doctors that false labour is named after. (How about that for a claim to fame? Makes me wonder what medical pioneer claimed the fake orgasm). So everything was back to normal.

The funny thing is that EVERYTHING went back to normal. Meaning that, the next day, I woke up worried about the essential items yet to be bought, the empty office waiting to be converted into a nursery, and even fretted over my set list at Bourbon Street that night. All the little neuroses were back.

And yet, I know that beneath those neuroses, there’s a guy who has everything under control. That guy has used this episode as a wake-up call to both of us, and we have made some progress getting things ready. I cancelled my coming weekend in Ajax. I’m officially on stand-by alert. Even my Just for Laughs audition tonight has an air of just killing time while waiting for the main event. This guy’s got the priorities figured out.

So I’ll let these little neuroses nudge me along. It’s okay to be nervous, there’s still a lot of uncertainty. But it’s nice to know that when push comes to shove comes to, you know, PUSH, I’ve got back-up I never really appreciated. That little bit of self that knows we’ll deal.

I just realized, this may have been the moment of zen I was waiting for in my January 25th entry. Wow. Here I thought I was just typing nonsense these past months. There’s an actual continuity thread going on here.

Too cool.

TIME’S PRE-BOARDING CALL

I’ve been listening to music today, which I don’t usually do. But it’s been in conjunction with daydreaming, which I do a lot.

I have been staring into space imagining the music video I want to put on Youtube for my baby’s first birthday. This would be the baby that is not yet born, whom we refer to as "Who". I’ve had one of my current favorite songs in my head, and have been imagining the video footage I will be compiling over the next twelve months. Who’s first year: first meetings with grandparents, first experiences with snow, naps, tantrums, wide-eyed mugging for the camera, and marking territory with the dog. It will be a sweet, moving little archive of our baby’s life, and I find myself anxious to jump ahead a year and put it together.

Stranger still, as I’ve been sitting here rocking to my favorite iTunes (not rock n’ roll rocking, but more of an autistic back-and-forth that my family is all too acquainted with), I’ve been struck by songs that are going to make great soundtracks for Who’s second birthday movie, and third and fourth…

And it takes a while to stop myself and think, “Slow down! Let’s see if we get through the delivery first!”

It’s a funny little conflict between brain hemispheres: the one side full of hope and eagerness to know what this new life has in store, while the other is afraid of jinxing anything by daring to plan beyond the next diaper run. All the while, both sides of the brain remain mindful of life’s most unsettling truth: time flies.

I find myself thinking about what my parents might have been thinking the first time they measured my height, drawing a horizontal line along the bedroom wall. Did they imagine the future notches that would be dominating that corner of the room? Or the first time Dad was photographed reading “Twas the Night Before Christmas” to my eldest sister, did anyone dare to dream that decades later the tradition would have continued uninterrupted, with my sister’s baby, the first grandchild, in the picture this past year? Looking back, you can’t help feeling grateful that we’ve all made it so far, while at the same time being a bit freaked wondering where the time went.

It feels like too much to ask that I can experience such a streak of good fortune, yet here I am today, not just imagining my offspring’s long, happy life but being so bold as to arrange its musical score.

I want so much to know we’ll make it, but the sooner I know, the sooner it will be over. I can't believe this pregnancy is almost over. The baby’s not even born and it’s already growing up too fast. We’re barely taxiing on the runway and time is already flying.

Not only does time fly but it’s such a trippy continuum that as I write this sentence in 2007, my future self may be nostalgically perusing this entry in, say, 2017, possessing so much knowledge that I can only speculate about now. Of course, to my future self reading this, it is now. He’s reading this right now.

I hope he’s smiling.

And when he’s done reading this sentence, I hope he watches some home movies.

COCKJAWS, WHAT HAPPENED???

If Spencer, Uey, Cad or Maclean are reading this, I went through both floors of that cougar bar like, 3 times last night and couldn't find you guys!!! I'm really sorry I couldn't track you all down, 'cause I was very psyched to stumble down memory-lane. Please try to get a hold of me through david@davidpryde.com, 'cause I don't know how to reach any of you.

The above four gentlemen are fellow alumni from Trueman House, where I lived at Mount A University (on the illustrious floors of Top Center and First West). They showed up at the late show in Kingston last night, veritable blasts from the past, and it was very cool to hang out with them before the show. Brought back good memories. After the show they went to the bar across the street where I said I'd meet them in a few minutes. As they left I jokingly called out, "See you in another ten years, suckers!" I am sad that this turned out to be prophetic, as my few minutes became fifteen minutes, saying good-bye to folks in the club, and by the time I crossed the street I was unable to find anyone in the bar. We hadn't swapped cell phone numbers or nothin'. I felt like quite the April Fool.

Maybe I kept them waiting too long (I WASN'T DITCHING YOU, GUYS), or something else happened to them (Uey seemed particularly primed for mischief), but I was sad. A fun little conflence of events brought us together (three out of the four of them were just in town to hang out) and suddenly my evening was over before it got started.

Still, it was fun while it lasted, and they delivered easily the funnest heckling I've ever experienced (I wish all rowdies would wait 'til the last 30 seconds of the show).

In a way it was a typical Trueman night out for me, as it ended with me separated from the herd and generally bamboozled. The only differences being when I woke up I knew where I was and nothing was soiled.

Sincere thanks for coming out to the show, guys, and I'm sorry the reunion ended abruptly (for me). I truly hope it's less than ten years 'til we meet again.

mmmBOOSH,

d-hole