That is the chant everyone knows: Thank God it’s Friday. I was looking forward to my Friday, had a plan or two of my own. Then the hubby scheduled an appointment to have my snow tires taken off and brand new tires put back on. He spoils me terribly. 

I had to set my alarm for 6 a.m. so I would have time to use the treadmill and eat breakfast before my 8 a.m. appointment. I was told it would take about 45 minutes so I packed a bag with the newspaper, a book and my iPad. Good music was playing overhead – the Fleetwood Mac station. I was singing along and getting my groove on when my mechanic stuck his head in the door and told me I also needed rear brakes — like yesterday! I had metal on metal.

It would take another hour and a half. Now, admittedly I was having a good time but not that good of a time, and I had Trish coming over to use the long-arm so now I was frustrated. Then like a white knight on his trusty steed, my hubby pulled in to collect my snow tires and agreed to take me home to wait it out.  

Once I got home, my iPad sprung to life with texts from Jeremy and Rachel. She was in labor. Trish came, I got her started and had to walk away from my project to entertain Henry. While he ate his lunch I checked my messages for baby news but my iPad was being obnoxious. Wouldn’t open my mail, games were freezing — had to keep resetting it. 

Trish came downstairs — I thought she was taking a lunch break. Nope. The long-arm quit working. I told her it probably just needed oiling and to go ahead and eat because it takes a while to trickle down in. But an hour later it still wouldn’t run. And my mechanic had not called to say my car was ready yet, nor was he answering his phone, and the baby was not coming. I wasn’t sure my day could get worse.

I sent Trish home with a promise to call when the machine was up and running. I finally got through to the mechanic, and the hubby took me to get my car. I then headed to where we hold quilt group. We have been allowed to start up again and I was supposed to check one of the sewing machines that belonged to a friend who isn’t comfortable coming back yet. She said I could use it but it needed a good cleaning. There hadn’t been time during the meeting to do that so I thought today would be a good day for it. 

I broke her machine. 

It was working beautifully and then I opened it up. It was not the least bit dirty so I closed it again. Now the bobbin keeps getting in a wad. I drove to her house. I wanted to tell her in person so she could slap me and get it over with. She wouldn’t slap me. And there is still no baby.

My bank statement came. The checkbook does not balance and I have no idea why. 

After dinner I start washing the dishes, but each time I lean into the sink it feels like I’m being pricked. There is nothing in my clothes so I press on my stomach near my belly button and there is the prickle again. I wouldn’t be surprised, what with the day I’m having, that I’ve given myself a hernia carrying Henry because he hurt his foot. I’ll have to see how this plays out.

I tried the long-arm again. It runs for a few seconds and stops. I oiled it again and wait it out. 

It’s now 10 p.m. The baby is still not here, which is just as well. Who wants to be born on a day like this, anyway?  

It seems the baby was in total agreement with me. Friday had bad juju. She didn’t make her arrival until 11 a.m. the next morning. So we welcome our little Natalie Sage Hough.