Five Five No Field Five

Is there nothing better than answering your phone and receiving jaw-dropping news? If your household is like mine, and excitement comes in the form of new Tide Pod scent blends or the NFL Draft’s third round, you welcome juicy news/gossip with ears open wide. We welcome tawdry and life changing reports of all kinds in our house. Your exciting life changes move us.  We even have a ranking system. It is the scale of Def Con.  It ranges from Def Con1= interesting news, Def Con 5= you are going to wet your pants.  My husband and I send simple text messages to one another that let the other know how urgent a return call is – such as:  “just talked to your mother – ring me for Def Con 4”.

This Tuesday, I got some Def Con 3 news. My friend, let’s call her “Kerry” (she’s a pink cheeked Irish girl, therefore this is an appropriate alias), under the premise of a Kindergarten enrichment program update, dropped a bomb on me. She was talking so fast about a multitude of issues we had to catch up on, (or I was half listening. #1 pet peeve about me most family and friends would list is my multitasking while on the phone) and then she just blurted, “I am pregnant”. It was like a phone call 10-car collision on the Commodore Barry. Huh??

Most of you reading this probably don’t feel like this is really newsworthy unless “Kerry” is 16 and dating the Speaker of the House…but it is. “Kerry” is pregnant…with her 5th child. FIFTH. It get’s better, folks…WAIT FOR IT…her husband got a vasectomy…LAST MAY.  (Yes, I of course immediately googled FAILURE RATE OF VASECOMIES.  Apparently, the NIH reports that there is a %0.04 to 0.08% of failure in “late” vasectomies, which is 6 months + past the procedure.)

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As soon as I hung up with “Kerry”, I frantically called My Husband. He sat quietly on the phone, and rather calmly stated, “this has me wanting to make a call to the Urologist for another testing appointment.” He, too, was a recipient of the snip snip.

I am fairly certain “Kerry” is on the verge of axing me from her life.  I have been bombarding her with texts.  Of course, I couldn’t help myself. The inappropriate comments and jokes just kept pouring out of my mouth.  I told her that she could rotate some of her kids into our home for a period of time.  I tend to be a better behaved Mother when I have critics in the mix.  I’ve asked her if she’s rented the banquet hall for Thanksgiving dinner, 2029.   I, of course, apologized for all of my insensitive comments I probably made in the previous 12 weeks, unaware of her condition. (In case you weren’t sure I CAN’T IMAGINE EVER BEING PREGNANT AGAIN OR BRINGING MORE LIFE INTO OUR HOUSE.) But, if anyone can handle it, she can.  She is always smiling and her mini van is always packed with kids.  I have never even heard her raise her voice at her children, and her house is kind of a zoo with neighborhood kids running in and out, who is going to notice 1 more?  So, I raise my glass to “Kerry” on her soon-to-be complete basketball team…and I send My Husband back to the Urologist on Monday for a date with the Petri dish.

It has often been said life is a crap shoot, sevens and elevens…..and sometimes you roll a five. Five, Five, No Field Five!

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