Just like last Saturday, Lisa made her weekly outdoor excursion to the doctor's office for another check-up. After her pupils adjusted to the bright sunlight, we made our merry way to Cedars over Beverly Glen.
I must say witnessing Lisa undress for these doctor appointments is a noisy experience. First of all, as she braces her body against anything that will support her (i.e. steel beam), every move is accompanied by a guttural sound. And around her belly is this support belt she wears everywhere she goes. There are velcro straps all around this contraption that she tears and rips off with a vicious grrrrreeeeeeep! So this undressing becomes this percussive aural event: uuuuhhh greeeeep eeeeeee greeeep oooooofffff greeeeep.
The doctor told us the kids are over five pounds, and Lisa is dilated at three centimeters. Our doctor also felt up inside Lisa's privates and told us the girl's head is so low that she was actually able to touch the top of her head. It would've been poor form if I told the doctor my penis could've told her the same thing.
Ever since our hospital stay, the doctors keep telling us the babies could come any day. Well, four weeks has past and still no babies. Lisa's last contraction was almost a week ago. We were a little concerned that the contractions went away, but the nurse said that this sometimes happens to people who take terbutaline (the pill Lisa took to control her contractions), and it's actually good news for Lisa. Where does this leave us? Just waiting as usual.
For the rest of the day, I did some errands and a handful of household chores while Lisa sat her sweet, lazy ass on the couch. I did witness seeing Lisa getting up from the floor after lunch. It was quite the ordeal. She had her legs underneath the coffee table. Then she grimaced as she swiped her legs out from the table. I asked if she needed help, but she refused. Lisa tried to pull herself up, but was unsuccessful. Another grunt and grimace.
"I need to get on my knees," Lisa whined.
Putting her feet under her butt, she finally got on her knees. With one hand on the coffee table and the other on the sofa, Lisa took a deep breath and hoisted her baby boulder up from the floor. Collapsing on the sofa, she released one final groan. I went to pat her on her head, and she was sadly sweating from all of this. For the next few minutes, Lisa took a tissue and kept wiping her face. Who would've thought just standing up would be the new five minute work-out?
After dinner, I went for a jog and stopped off at Borders on the way home. Walking through the children's book section, I heard a man singing to his little baby. But not a whisper. A full blown vocal performance of "Old McDonald." Worse yet, it was an Asian man with an accent. More worse, he didn't know the words to the song. It went like this:
Ol Mahk Dahnald had a fahm
E I E I Ooooo
An on dat fahm he had a chicken
E I E I Ooooo
Wi a chik chik heah
A chik chik dere
Chik chik chik chik chik chik
Chik chik chik chik
Chik chik chik chik chik
Chik chik
Chik
Yes that's right. He just started saying "chik" over and over again. It was so annoying I wondered if he did this with other songs.
Dere's Dis girl dat's been on mah mind
All da time
Sussudio oh oh!
Sussudio sussudio sussudio sussudio
Sussudio sussudio
Sussudio sussudio sussudio
or
Roxanne
You don't have to put da red right on
Roxanne Roxanne Roxanne
Roxanne Roxanne Roxanne Roxanne
Roxanne
Roxanne Roxanne
And people wonder why more Asians don't move into the Valley...
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