You have to know that nothing remotely resembling ‘normal’ ever happens in our household.
“And what are these?” I pointed to the collapsed little mound of pants and shoes on the floor beside Mom’s bed.
Mom paused in her folding of a tiny, green sleeper and looked over at me. She grinned. “Oh, those are Pete’s pants and shoes.”
“O-Kay. But why are they lying here on the floor?”
“This is part of his ‘efficiency baby birthing’ plan.”
I stared at her. “Seriously?”
She laughed. “Well, you know he’s ex-army.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Mom. Who knows better than the people who live in this house?”
She shrugged. “Well…”
“So what’s with the pantsandshoes?”
“He has them arranged like that so he can hop out of bed and right into his pants and shoes. He simply steps into the shoes and pulls up the pants. Voila! Clothed and shod.”
I shook my head.
“He has things strung out in order from here to the door. Pants and shoes. Shirt.” She pointed. “Then jacket, wallet and car keys.”
Mom tucked the little sleeper into the overnight bag on her bed. “I’m under instructions to put this bag in its proper place as soon as I’ve got it packed.”
Dad came into the room, rubbing his hands together. “There. No more rough skin!” He rubbed his knuckles against Mom’s cheek.
She smiled at him and, not for the first time, I was grateful this kind, wonderful man had come into our family.
He was such a marvellous addition.
“That’s so important!” Mom said. You don’t want to touch a baby with rough skin!”
“Right?” Dad sat beside Mom on the bed and reached for her hand.
I admit it freely. They are a cute couple.
Mom frowned and rubbed a hand over her huge belly.
Dad pulled on the hand he held. “Is it time?”
She smiled at him.”Nope. Just a twinge.”
“Oh.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “No regrets?”
“None.”
“Ugh. You two love birds. I’m going to start supper.” I headed for the door.
“I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished packing!” Mom called after me.
Things carried on normally for the rest of the evening.
That is an unusual occurrence in our household. And cause for some alarm.
Because it is inevitably followed by…
I sat straight up in bed. Was that voices? A moan? I listened carefully. Yes to both! I jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hallway, grabbing the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and skidding around to the bottom stair.
In seconds, I was up the stairs and standing in the doorway of Mom and Dad’s room.
The lights were on and Mom was sitting up in their bed.
Dad had managed to get his pants and shoes on but then seemed to have run down. This decorated soldier was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing his forehead and staring into space.
Mom looked up at me. “Nothing to worry about, Honey. Just indigestion.”
I stared at her. “Really? And just how often is this indigestion happening?”
“About every three minutes.”
I went to the doorway and hollered. “Sally! Mort! Baby!”
I heard an answering shout from the bowels of the house. I turned back. “Dad!”
He jumped and looked at me.
“The baby’s coming!”
He blinked.
“We’ve got to do something! Probably getting Mom to the hospital is first on that list.”
“Right.” He grabbed his shirt and put it on. Then ran toward the door picking up his jacket, wallet, and car keys. Finally, he grabbed Mom’s suitcase and charged through the door.
“Dad!”
He reappeared.
“You forgot Mom!”
“Oh, right!” He slung the bag from its strap and headed back toward the bed.
Just then I heard a loud crash from outside. Followed by the continuing ‘beeeeep‘ of a motorcycle horn. I ran to the window and looked out.
The car was out of the garage, lights on and engine running. Mort and Sally, both barefoot and in their PJ’s were in front of it, trying to pry something out from beneath.
I opened the window.”What’s happening?!”
Sally looked up at me. “Mort parked his motorbike on the driveway and ran over it when he backed the car out.” She turned back to her straining husband. “It’s stuck!”
I looked at Mom and Dad. “Mort just backed the car over his motorbike!”
Dad ran to the window and I took his place beside Mom, carefully helping her to her feet.
“Oh, Honey!” She paused, putting a hand to her belly. “I think this baby’s coming fast!”
“Well get a crowbar!” Dad yelled.
“What?” Mom said.
“What?” I said.
He looked at us. “What?”
“Never mind!” We could hear Sally’s shout. “We’ll just take Mort’s car!”
By this point, if an elephant had shown up, Dad would have gladly flagged it down. “Fine!” he shouted back.
Dad and I managed to get Mom down to the main floor.
The noise of the trapped motorcycle was louder here.
Oh, joy.
Dad opened the door and with Mom between us, we moved to the front porch.
By this point, every house in the neighbourhood was lit up. And neighbours were beginning to gather.
Why can’t our family do anything quietly?
Bill Baggins, from next door, was, with the help of a couple of his boys, now trying to free the motorcycle.
Mort and Sally had moved to Mort’s venerable old car, parked at the curb and had it running and the rear doors open for us.
We had nearly reached them when the motorcycle’s pain-filled shrieking finally stopped.
Bliss!
In the relative silence that followed, we managed to manoeuvre Mom into the back seat.
Dad followed and I ran around and got into the far side.
Then, Mort jammed his foot down on the gas and with the squeal of tires and swirl of exhaust, we were off.
Sally slid back the sunroof and stood up. “We’re off!” she shrieked. “See you after the baby comes!”
There was a cheer from the neighbours. Not sure if it was for Sally’s words or our final exit from the neighbourhood, but whatever.
The trip to the hospital was relatively short and thankfully uneventful, considering the speeds Mort coaxed from his ancient auto and the fact that Sally insisted on announcing the imminent birth of her brother or sister at the top of her lungs whenever we approached an intersection.
Sigh.
Mom and Dad were whisked away and the rest of us took our seats in the waiting room to…erm…wait.
Peter arrived just seconds after we had gotten settled. Needless to say, I was tearfully grateful to see him.
We didn’t have long to wait.
An hour after we had charged through the doors of the Emergency ward and waved our parents off, Dad floated back to tell us to come and meet our new sister--born 15 minutes after they had arrived.
We followed him to a small, private room where Mom was sitting in bed, tenderly holding a little cloth-wrapped bundle. The smile on her face rivaled the sunshine.
We crowded around, jostling each other for a better view.
Just as I leaned nearer, the baby opened her eyes and, I swear, looked right at me.
I caught my breath.
She was perfect.
A perfect double of Sally.
A Sally in miniature.
Good golly.
Today’s post is a writing challenge. Participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post—all words to be used at least once. All the posts are unique as each writer has received their own set of words. And here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.
My words: regrets ~ sunshine ~ double ~ miniature were sent to me, via Karen, from my good friend, Rena! Thank you!
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