Thirty five years ago, on December 21, way back in 1974, I had a toasted egg-salad sandwich for breakfast. Now, truth be told, I knew better than to eat eggs...any kind of eggs. Back then they didn't like me very much and tended to give me heartburn and an upset tummy. But what was a girl to do? Hubby John had to work that day and I made egg-salad sandwiches for his lunchbox. There was some left over. I had to eat it didn't I? I couldn't waste it! And besides, why have peanut butter on toast when you have perfectly good egg-salad just waiting to be used up? Once HJ was gone, I had my tea and a toasted egg-salad sandwich and then I did the dishes and the vacuuming. Then I went back to bed for a short nap. My dear mom by marriage was picking me up to go out for a bit of shopping that afternoon (I didn't drive then) and my mom and dad were coming in for dinner and a few hands of cards that evening. I really needed some extra energy that day. When I got up from my nap I had another egg-salad sandwich for lunch and then I got dressed to go shopping. Mom S. and I had a good afternoon together. We went from the department store to the grocery store and then home. She had me back home by three. I had time to do a load of laundry, have a shower and another quick nap and I had enough time to get supper ready to pop into the oven before Hubby John got home. I remember how very tired I felt that day. My mom and dad showed up around six. We had pizza for supper (another not-so-smart thing for me to eat) and then we all settled in to play a few hands of cards and have an enjoyable evening. By eight o'clock I wasn't feeling so great. Those yummy egg-salad sandwiches combined with the sauce on the pizza started to do a real number on me. My tummy was not a happy camper. After an hour or two or three of complaining about not feeling well, trying to get comfortable with my sore back and chewing down a half a bottle of Tums, my mom said, "Hmmmm.....maybe we should time these gas pains. I think your in labour." What???? Ya sure, I was pregnant and yes, I was really, really overdue, but I had just been to the doctor the day before and he had done an internal and declared that I was not ready to go yet. As of yesterday the baby was not in the right position to start getting ready to be born. The baby hadn't dropped and I had not started dilating. Dr. M. was making arrangements for me to go into the hospital on the day after Christmas so they could put me on a drip and hopefully start labour. So how could I be starting labour now? No way! Well, I should have trusted my mom. After all she did have 11 children, so that made her somewhat of an expert on labour. As my pains started to get more intense, dad's green colour also deepened, so mom took him home to put him to bed. Sympathy labour....apparently he had it with most of mom's delivery's. After 20 hours or so, on Sunday, December 22rd, 1974, around 4:30 in the afternoon, my dad started to feel better when he was informed that he was a first time grandfather to a beautiful, bouncing baby boy. (Did he ever bounce...all the time...and he has never stopped) Grandpa D., first-time mommy and the new baby were all fine and first-time daddy John had a grin on his face that stayed there for a long, long time.
John Vincent, you were the best Christmas present ever!
Happy 35Th birthday, my baby boy.