For the love of ‘Truck’ and the weather
My latest son could be born at any time. That’s what my wife and I have been saying for the last two weeks.
Any time will likely mean Tuesday, but that’s a guesstimate at best. It’s made work and life interesting as I continually pelt her with “Are you OKs?” every few minutes when we’re home and every hour or so when we’re working.
As I hinted at, Truck Love isn’t our firstborn — thank our older boys for his pre-birth nickname, which is starting to stick — so we’re familiar with the uncertainty of the last few weeks of a pregnancy. But our other two were born in May and November — easier months to navigate the mysteries of new life while juggling the responsibilities of adulthood.
In the last few weeks — and after, I must add, the doctor told us birth was imminent — we’ve had the winter storm that wasn’t — but which EVERYONE was manic about — and then the older boys, ages 4 and 2, got colds.
To add to the fun, my wife got an infection that spurred early (false) contractions that gave us a fun test run when she drove herself to the hospital, I drove the boys to their grandparents, and we spent the day in limbo in the hospital triage unit.
“It’s a good thing you came in, but the baby (Truck Love) isn’t yet ready to be born,” they told us.
We passed the test run and got everyone home and were able to move forward with my favorite time of the year: the vehicle inspection appointment!
The mechanic had cancelled the Saturday before because of the storm that wasn’t. So we dropped off the car and waited to find out if anything needed to be repaired.
I was too ecstatic when the call came: 60 cents to replace a lightbulb, plus the ordinary labor and processing fees.
The next day it snowed. I shoveled and cleared off the cars and thought I’d treat the boys to a fast food burger and pick up some beer.
All was well in the world, until after I paid for the food. My window wouldn’t go up. “Sheesh,” I know I said aloud as I pulled away. (Fatherhood has tempered my vocabulary in such instances.) Then I got home and inspected things further. I opened the door, took in the food and went back out to survey the scene.
But the car door hadn’t closed.
After a time, I managed to get the window up enough that I could use garbage bags and duct tape to seal it, and after more time, I got the door closed and locked.
It made for a great Monday, when I found out how valuable parts for Toyota’s doors can be.
Let’s just say we could have great seats to “Hamilton” and a good dinner. And perhaps a stiff drink.
But it’s all in a day’s work as a father and father-to-be. When Truck Love finally comes, we’ll have a few good stories to tell him.
Until then, let’s hope we survive the polar vortex. It may give us another tale for Truck Love, when at last he arrives.
Tom Davidson is a Tribune-Review staff writer and former assistant news editor for the Sewickley Herald. You can contact Tom at 724-487-7208, [email protected] or via Twitter @TribDavidson.