Chocolate Rain

So last Thursday I experienced two awesome "firsts":

1.  Ellie vomited for the first time.  I knew this day would come - I just didn't expect it to be in the middle of St. Louis Bread Company and completely coat me in regurgitated chocolate milk.  From collar bone to knee, yo. 

The worst part about it is that I was wearing my "special" maternity pants and really hoping I could avoid washing them for the next 6 weeks because I don't know if they'll survive a trip through the laundry. 

2.  A mere matter of hours after cleansing myself from the liquid demon, I got to put on my fab Halloween costume 

and head down to the annual Coolfire Media party with my friends Dan and Angie and meet Young M.C.

As you can see, by "meet" I mean avoid his terrified look of panic as he motioned for security as I rushed onto the stage to put myself upon him.  I did this despite the fact that I had been having contractions all day long and promised Nick I wouldn't dance on the stage like I did last year with Tone Loc.  

Snookie, by the way.  The answer to your question is Snookie.

As usual the party was off the chain and for a few short hours I forgot all about that one time when I was wiping someone else's vomit out of my crotch, which I couldn't see by the way, because my huge pregnant belly was obstructing my view.

The entire duration of the party I was showered with attention and had many interesting conversations, including:

Man:  Is that a real baby belly?

Me:  Yes, sir! 

His Wife:  What the hell are you doing asking her that?  What if it wasn't and she were just really fat?  She would be pissed!

Ahem. 

Despite my temporary escape from reality, my life station came catapulting back to me in the form of contractions that were getting more painful and closer together as the night went on.  I was beginning to think the running man was possibly not the best choice in 8-months-pregnant activity.

My friend Angie and I stayed for the next act, Rob Base, but I began to fear the baby was going to come sooner rather than later so we left before the final show, which happened to be Coolio.  When I was complaining to my sister about missing Coolio she said, "well, if you'd a had that baby there it definitely would not have been Coolio."

True.

By the time I got home, washed what is probably toxic fetus brain paint off my belly and laid down, the contractions were every two minutes.

Nick seemed especially concerned.

Me:  I've had 6 contractions in 10 minutes!  I'm getting a little freaked out.

Nick:  Well, let's just wait a little longer before we zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Me:  Nick?  NICK?  Did you just fall asleep?

Nick:  No - I TOLD you I'd rake the yard tomorrow.  Now pass the salt.

I was on my own.  Luckily now that I was laying down and not busting out my best 90's dance moves with a box tied around my neck they calmed down.

Though I'm pretty sure the baby is going to come out completely terrified of anything with a back beat.