Sigggghhhhhh!

So I went to the Dr. last Tuesday, and he did the membrane sweep. Everyone was very optimistic that labor would ensure within 48 hours. I had some cramping, there were other "good signs" which I will spare the male reader of this blog. I called in to work, and we were READY!!!

I walked, I did housework, and then I laid down for a little while. And everything stopped. So I was left to beg, plead and cajole the man to do his husbandly duty. He got a green look, and declined. I told him I would get him liquored up and take advantage....he just laughed.

So there was no baby. So much for my plan to take early maternity leave! I had to finish out my work week.

Today, we went to court and we are now officially the "Allens". The judge asked us why we wanted to change out names, and when we gave our reason.."his father" "prison" and "20 years", he then asked why. So we told him why. He looked a little surprised, and then he granted our name change. He did ask why we didn't consider changing our last name to Engwall, which Eugene had to answer. "We wanted to be somewhat traditional and have her take an aspect of my name." The real answer was as Eugene puts it "I wanted to make an attempt to retain possession of my manhood."

Tomorrow we go back to the doctor for another membrane sweep. I am hoping this is the one that gets him out. I have all sorts of mental images of the baby in there, with a 5 O'Clock shadow, a pack of smokes, alcohol, guns, and ammo. He's holed up (pun intended) in there like a Branch Davidian. For while I tried playing loud music a la Manuel Noriega, but it didn't work.

For the first time I did have a very vivid dream about the baby. He was about 10 months old and I was trying to get him to say "mama" but he kept calling me "Dardita" which only annoyed me in the dream and amused him.

I am at the point where I would like this baby out. I have tried to lure him out..."It's warm, I'll have a warm blanket for you." "Baths are fun!" "All your cousins are waiting" "You are only getting about 8 weeks to be the center of attention, so you should come out and enjoy it before the new baby overthrows you." "Your dad promises that we will not let you get it whacked at." "He thinks every extra centimeter counts." "And the last one I had up my sleeve..."Boys like boobies. I will let you have em".

He does not seem to care about any of the above. He may have my diabolical streak and tendency toawards evil genius, but he clearly has his father's stubborness and/or procrastination gene.

We are so in over our head!