We Have a Date!

I know I said I'd post before we left for Europe if we scheduled a date for our transfer but I lied. Well, I didn't really lie. I just didn't want to write a one-line post with a date and nothing more to say. So, now that we're back from our wonderfully romantic and exhausting trip to London and Paris, I have a story to tell that will make a post that's interesting, and hopefully amusing, to read.

But I'll start with the news everyone is waiting to hear...

August 30th!! 

In ONE MONTH our little frozen babies will be thawed and shot into Lyndsay's fully prepped uterus. I can't believe it's actually happening! All that's left to do before Lyndsay can start her medication next week is to get our attorneys on the same page so we can sign our contracts. Damn lawyers!!

So that's all for the baby update. Who wants to hear about the tour guide from Hell? Ok, I'll tell you about him! 

I woke up on our second morning in London on July 22nd and immediately Googled, "Royal Baby" to see if the Duchess had gone into labor yet. Let me explain that the only reason I cared about a baby I will never know, born to a couple I will never meet, is that I was actually in the country where said baby will eventually become King. I figured there might be some excitement in the area when the kid finally pops out. Anyway, the first result that popped up on my screen read, "Royal baby is coming!" Should be an interesting day, I thought to myself.

Jimmi and I got out of bed and got ready for full day of sightseeing in London with a private tour guide. We figured, since we really didn't have much time in the city, we should hire someone who could take us to all the major sites so we wouldn't waste time trying to find our way around an unknown city. Surprisingly, we'd done really well on our own the day before. We took a cab to The Tower of London (not included in the private tour) and, armed with only a paper map, walked 4 miles back to our hotel, stopping anywhere that looked interesting along the way. It was actually a pretty cool way to see the area. But this tour needed to cover a lot of ground and we had to be on a tight schedule to see everything we wanted to see, including Westminster Abbey, The Changing of the Guard, The London Eye, St. Paul's Cathedral, Trafalgar Square and Picadilly Circus. And we needed to be back at the hotel by 6:00 to shower and change in time for our dinner reservation. And did I mention we requested a walking tour? We absolutely did not want to sit in a stuffy bus or car all day so walking sounded like the way to go. After our travel agent booked the tour she forwarded an e-mail from the company warning us that we needed to be in excellent physical condition to handle the amount of walking we'd be doing. Even though I was slightly worried after nursing a fractured pelvic bone for the last two months, I assured her we'd be fine.

Our guide, Paul, called to say he'd be late to pick us up due to rush hour traffic. It was only about ten minutes, so no big deal. He showed up to the hotel a bit surprised to see such a young couple, as he's used to older people. He was dressed in long pants, dress shoes, a long-sleeved button down shirt and a blazer. Keep in mind that day was the hottest one London had seen in about 7 years. We immediately told him to take off the jacket and roll up his sleeves because we were very casual and didn't need formalities. He refused because his shirt was wrinkled. Since it was only 9:15 AM, the heat wasn't too bad yet, but a high of 95 degrees was expected by early afternoon. By the way, I'm pretty sure Paul had never brushed his teeth...ever. The bright red gums and killer breath were clear indications. But I digress.

We started our tour at Westminster Abbey, where we immediately informed Paul that we were very quick lookers and didn't need to spend hours learning the history. After about 90 minutes, Jimmi and I felt kinda like bored kids being forced to sit through history class and I politely reminded Paul that we'd like to see the Changing of the Guard at 11:15. We rushed out into the heat that was beginning to build and trotted off to Buckingham Palace. Of course, at that point, we were too late to get anywhere near the place and ended up standing up the road where the new guards would come out of the holding area. Paul kept insisting we only needed to see "the beginning and end bits" and everything in the middle was boring. So instead of going up to the palace to try and watch, he walked us into the park because HE desperately needed a drink since he was sweating so brutally. Once again, Jimmi and I told him to take off his jacket but he refused.

We hung out drinking water in the park for longer than I would've liked. I felt like we were just wasting time and we had a lot to see. Paul kept talking about cooling off in the shade for a bit but Jimmi and I were fine and wanted to truck on. I finally just started walking and after Paul got the hint, he brought us to the building where the off duty guards would go after they left the palace. This was where the "end bit" of the ceremony would take place. After waiting about 10 minutes I let him know that I really wanted to get moving since we had planned a full day and we needed to be back by 6 to change for dinner. He had us wait (in the shade) another 10 minutes until I told him more directly that we wanted to go. I was a little disappointed that we never actually got to see the guards change. But at least he asked a whole lot of uncomfortable and inappropriate questions about labor and childbirth while we waited, so that was fun.

We left and headed off to the riverboat to take us to St Paul's Cathedral. by that time it was probably 90 degrees out and our guide was clearly uncomfortable. He mentioned the unbearable heat numerous times as the sweat poured from his brow. Again, we insisted he remove his jacket to no avail.

We arrived at the pier and Paul held our tickets out to the taker who informed us that we were in the wrong place and had to walk way down to the other pier. We finally boarded the correct boat and Paul left us to get a drink. He didn't return until our stop was called (good thing since we had no idea what stop we needed) and I saw the covered cup in his hand. "You're drinking coffee in this heat?" I asked. "Oh, no," Paul replied. "It's cold milk." Ummmm...eeeewwwww! What adult drinks a cup of plain milk when they're outside walking around in the heat all day? A white residue quickly formed on his lips and stretched between them as he spoke. I couldn't look directly at him for a very long time. Once we exited the boat our guide kept talking about eating lunch, though we were fine to just continue on. After realizing that he REALLY wanted us to eat, we finally agreed and he brought us to a restaurant and headed off to make phone calls or pass out or something. Then it was off to St Paul's.

The Cathedral was beautiful! We headed up the 250 or so steps to the Whispering Gallery, where the theory is, one person can whisper into the wall and another person can hear what was said from across the room. It actually worked! When we were ready to continue on, Paul asked that we head to the top (another 300 steps) without him, as he was just too hot and wasn't wearing the right shoes. We had no problem with that but I had to laugh since the tour company was worried WE wouldn't be able to handle a walking tour!

Jimmi and I made it to the top and then met Paul when we came back down. It was getting late and I was worried we wouldn't have time to do everything we had scheduled after all the wasted time in the morning. Paul suggested we skip Picadilly and go there on our own another time. I was not happy since we were very specific with what we wanted on this tour. He then kept mentioning that we should take a bus to the London Eye. Again, not happy, as we wanted a WALKING tour not a hot bus tour. He even offered to pay for our bus tickets, but Jimmi and I refused and forced the hot, sweaty, milky-lipped man to continue on foot.

As we walked to the Eye Paul moaned all the way about the pressing heat. But his complaints were forgiven when we got the the giant ferris wheel and were able to skip the mile-long line because he had friends who were working there that day. After a very anti-climactic "flight" on the Eye, Paul knew not to even suggest a bus and we quickly walked through Trafalgar Square and Picadilly Circus.

We made it back to the hotel a few minutes early and our sweaty and still fully suited guide threw himself onto a chair in the hotel cafe because he desperately needed to rest his aching feet, soak up the air conditioning and allow Jimmi to buy him a drink.

And that is why we will NEVER hire a private tour guide EVER again.

Lyndsay and Josh

Who?

I know, you thought their names were Lily and Jason, right?

Yeah, not really.

In an attempt to give our superstar couple a small bit of privacy during our journey, I chose to change their names for blogging purposes. There were a few minor problems with my decision. First, I probably should've chosen names that started with completely different letters to save myself the trouble of typing, "Lyn...(delete, delete, delete) Lily" every time. Second, I tend to write most of my posts very late at night, after the kids are in bed and the kitchen is cleaned up. Late nights = tired brain. Tired brain = careless editing. Careless editing = a few slip-ups on the names. So, for those of you who noticed Jason becoming Josh becoming Jason again in my last entry, please understand I'm not losing my mind.

Well, not completely.

After asking permission from the couple, I'd like to reintroduce our fabulous carrier and her wonderfully supportive husband, LYNDSAY AND JOSH!!

I also wanted to give you all the news that both of them have passed their blood and urine tests from last week! Hooray for drug and disease-free bodily fluids! I'm excited to say that all we need now are signed contracts (damn lawyers are so slow!) and a mutually agreeable date for the embryo transfer and we'll be on the road to parenthood! Because of vacation, lab and school schedules, we're trying really hard to squeeze the baby-making into the last week of August, but I'm pretty sure it'll end up sometime in September instead.

Another test of my nonexistent patience.

This is an uncharacteristically short post for me, but I just needed to kill off the aliases and let you all know that Jimmi and I will be leaving for what I hope will be our last kid-free, romantic vacation for a few years on Friday. Unless I find out a transfer date before then, my blog will be very quiet until we get back on July 28th.

Thank you all for keeping up with us!

Minnesota Meets New York City - Part 2

Grumble...Gurgle...Churn...

"Owwww," I moaned as my eyes opened and I looked at the clock. Why am I awake at 3:00 AM? I thought to myself before the rumbling in my stomach started again. Ugh. I guess that's why. I turned over and tried to get comfortable in an attempt to ignore last night's pancakes that were fighting back, but it was no use. For almost three hours I tried to talk myself out of getting sick, "Please make this stop. Not today. Just get me through today." But it was no use. At 5:45 AM, only 15 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off, I was urgently running to the bathroom. No wonder Dylan messed his pants at the concert. There was virtually no warning for what was about to happen. I sat there in agony, holding back tears as nausea led to dizziness and turned into uncontrollable shakes. How the Hell am I gonna be able to leave to get Lily and Jason in an hour? How will I sit through all of the meetings at the clinic? Oh no! How will I be able to walk around New York City with them then eat dinner and enjoy a Broadway show?

I finished up and crawled back into bed just as our alarms were simultaneously ringing. Jimmi slammed the snooze button. "I'm dying," I whined. He jumped up with concern, "What's wrong?" "Either the pancakes last night didn't like me or I caught whatever Dylan had on Sunday," Truthfully, I think I'd been fighting off Dylan's evil virus all week, but it may have finally caught up to me. "Are you throwing up?" Jimmi asked. "Other end," I explained without having to go into any detail. "Well, we're gonna have to cancel today, then." That was NOT an option. "We can't do that! They're here and we have everything set up and we have show tickets!" Jimmi wasn't convinced, "How are you gonna get through it all?" I really had no idea, "I'll be fine in a little while." I don't know if I was trying to convince him or myself because I really didn't feel like I would be fine.

I waited as long as I could before getting out of bed on shaky legs and stumbling to the shower. I was shivering and dizzy and I hoped the warm water would work some sort of miracle on me. My stomach continued it's symphony and I barely made it out of the shower before I was called back to the throne again.

This can't be happening.

I finished getting dressed and covered my cheeks with extra bronzer to mimic the color that had drained from my face. I slowly walked downstairs and immediately fell to the couch. I knew better than to try and make deals with God to let me feel better because, as I've mentioned before, He still hates me. We had to leave in five minutes or we'd be late picking Lily and Jason up to bring them to the clinic for their 8:00 AM blood and urine tests, meeting with the nurse and meeting with the social worker. But then I had an idea. I called to Jimmi, "You and I don't actually need to be there for our meetings until nine-thirty. Can you go and pick them up and I'll meet you there in a bit?" He agreed on the plan and headed out the door. I stayed on the couch for a few minutes but my bed seemed like a better option. As I walked back up the stairs I was thankful for the extra hour and a half I'd gained. The reason Jimmi and I didn't need blood and urine tests is because we did all of that when our embryos were frozen two years ago. I reset my alarm for 8:15 AM and texted Lily, "Hey. Jimmi is on his way to pick you up. I'll meet you later. I don't think the pancakes liked me too much." And then I was off to dreamland.

The gurgling woke me about 40 minutes later and I didn't know which end would win the race this time, though, if I had any choice at all, I hoped for the south side. I called my mom, "I'm so sick, Mommy." After explaining my symptoms she instructed me to get apple juice and Imodium on my way to the clinic. "Don't eat anything heavy. Stick to soups and juice and nothing else." I'd be lucky if I could eat anything at all. After one more trip to the Porcelain Goddess I started feeling a tiny bit better. The dizziness and shaking had eased and I didn't feel like I was about to die anymore. I got into the car and headed straight to Rite Aid to purchase the goods Dr. Mom had suggested, plus a box of anti-nausea chewables. Once I was back in the car I opened the apple juice and downed two Imodium tablets that got stuck in my throat and almost ended my life right then and there.

Today was not my day.

I swung by Lily and Jason's hotel to pick up Jimmi since he was going to leave his car there for the day. A few minutes later we pulled up to the fertility clinic. I popped a piece of gum to settle my stomach, just as I'd done when I was pregnant or going through chemo, and into the building we went. This was our first time at the clinic's new location and I was taken aback by the size of the waiting room. "Wow, it's so much bigger than the last office." I announced to the receptionist as I signed in. "I know! Nice, isn't it?" she said with a smile. After signing in I remembered to ask, "Oh, I need to fill out forms to change my last name in the system. We weren't married yet the last time we were here." The receptionist handed me a sheet of paper to correct the information and a neurotic thought crossed my mind, "So, when I change my name you'll know to change the label on our embryos too, right? I'd hate to end up with the wrong kid." She laughed and assured me everything would be changed.

Jimmi and I sat down and waited for our first meeting with the nurse coordinator. I was actually feeling ok, minus a fleeting wave of nausea here and there. Nurse J came to get us a few minutes later than our scheduled time and apologized that she was still trying to get back into the swing of things, "This is my first day back from vacation. I apologize." She got out her paperwork and started to explain the process of using a gestational carrier. "Lily and Jason are great," she complimented during the conversation. "How long did it take for Tara to find them for you?" I giggled, "About twelve hours." Her jaw dropped and I remembered I wanted to tell her something else, "By the way, Agency A sucks. You should stop referring people to them." I immediately though I was a little too harsh until I saw her nodding her head in agreement. "I know," she said. "We reject carriers they send us ALL the time." At least I wasn't the only one who'd had a bad experience.

The meeting continued with an overview of everything that Lily would need to do that day, including the aforementioned blood and urine tests for communicable diseases and drugs, an ultrasound to check out her uterus, a meeting with the social worker and a psychological evaluation. Jimmi and I would meet with the social worker and then we'd all meet with her together to discuss any "uncomfortable" issues that might arise. The topic then turned to the medication Lily would need to take, mostly by way of self injections, before the embryo transfer and right up to about nine or ten weeks of pregnancy, if the transfer is successful. Sounded awful and I was once again reminded of everything Lily was willing to put her body through just so we could have a baby.

Totally selfless. Completely amazing.

And then Nurse J turned the page and started to discuss our frozen babies. "Looks like you have some lovely embryos," she remarked. "And, honestly, I was shocked when I saw how many eggs you had. Sixteen is A LOT! And you were thirty-six, right?" I nodded. "Seriously, that's a number we'd expect from a twenty year-old egg donor!" Jimmi turned to me, "I told you they were impressed after they took them out!" He looked back at Nurse J and pointed to me, "She was disappointed because she didn't think that was a lot." I added, "But we only ended up with twelve embryos!" Nurse J laughed, "Twelve is a lot! Most people have like two or three if they're lucky!" Ok, fine. I'll shut up. "Ok, you had PGD testing so we know their chromosomes are all fine. Did they tell you the sexes?" she asked. "Yup!" I exclaimed. "Six boys and six girls and since I have two boys already, we really want to use the girls first!" She was a little surprised, "Wow. Ok, you do know a lot. Girls first. No problem." She said as she took notes. Then I asked, "Are the girls good quality embryos?" I had heard recently that there is an embryo grading system which can help determine which ones will be more likely to implant when transferred, but I didn't really know the details. "Yes they are," she replied. "As I said before, you have lovely embryos. We grade them from A to D, A is the best, just like in school. Then there's also a number grade given to them to see how far they've expanded. That goes from one to six, but anything from four to six is great. Yours are all As and Bs and fours and fives." Then she paused to read, "Wait, you do have two Cs. Oh, but they're boys so it doesn't matter. And, truthfully, Cs aren't really that bad either." I was such a proud mommy! My kids were already A and B students at just a few cells!

"So, tell me," I said as my next paranoid question came to mind. "Do they ever make a mistake when they mix the sperm and the egg?" Nurse J looked confused. I explained myself, "Like, has there ever been a mistake in the lab where they accidentally mix the wrong sperm with the wrong egg? I'm so scared the kid will come out and be like half black or something. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but clearly it wouldn't be genetically ours." She shook her head and laughed, "No. That can't happen. There are so many checks in place in our lab. Like ten people have to check and double check everything before it's mixed. Don't worry!" Hey, I've read the news stories! I know it can happen! But I decided to drop the discussion unless the baby does, in fact, come out Asian or something. "So have you and Lily discussed a timeframe for the transfer," Nurse J asked, breaking me out of my crazy mind. "We're hoping for the last week of August, if possible." She looked a bit worried, "Hmmm. We can try, but I know we shut down for four weeks in the summer so we can't start new cycles during that time. I'll have to check into that. As soon as their blood work comes back next week, as long as everything is ok, we can put you on the schedule. But contracts will need to be signed before Lily starts any medications." Tara had mentioned that to me before. "Yes, our attorney has already sent a draft to Lily's attorney, so we should have a signed contract soon." Nurse J looked impressed, "Wow. You are on top of everything! Ok, well, if you don't have any more questions, I think that's all I have to...wait!" Uh-oh. I don't like when someone's about to tell me everything is set and then suddenly they remember something. She continued, "There is one minor issue. Technically, the FDA considers your embryos ineligible for transfer into an outside party, so we need to ask Lily to sign a waiver agreeing to carry them anyway." Ummmm...WHAT?! "Wait, what? I thought you said we have 'lovely embryos' with excellent grades! Why are they ineligible? I don't have ovaries anymore! I can't produce more eggs!" I was starting to get a little bit hysterical. "Don't worry!" Nurse J said calmly, "It's no big deal. Happens all the time, actually. When you originally froze them two years ago, Jimmi wrote on the paperwork that he'd gotten tattoos in January and February of that year. Your embryos were made in May, but the FDA usually requires a full year after a tattoo before they'll consider the genetic material safe. It's really dumb and it's just one piece of paper to sign. It's no big deal. And, looking at Jimmi, I can't imagine he's ever gone a year without getting a tattoo anyway!" She was right about that one. Now I just had to hope my husband's ink obsession didn't cost us our carrier.

When we finally finished up with Nurse J we were escorted into the social worker's office to talk about how to keep the relationship with our carrier open so our nine-month journey would be a pleasant one. "Lily and Josh are just the sweetest couple," she said. "I know," I agreed. "We got really lucky." She looked over her files and asked, "What's this about wanting girls?" I explained, "I have two boys from my first marriage so we'd really like a girl, if possible." She turned to Jimmi, "Is that ok with you?" she asked. Jimmi grinned, "Yup. I'll just need to get myself a shotgun a shovel and a rocking chair to wait on the porch when she starts bringing guys home!" We all laughed as Jimmi's joke broke the ice and the conversation flowed from there. I told her that Lily and I already talk every day, so I really didn't see a problem with the lines of communication staying open during a resulting pregnancy. She insisted that we should make it a point to call each other once a week and not rely solely on texting or e-mail because tone is lost in electronic conversation. She also warned against becoming Facebook friends since we might want to have a life that is kept private from our carrier. "We're already Facebook friends," I explained. "We talked about it before requesting each other and neither of us has anything to hide. We're both very open about this process and all of our friends and families know it's happening. I have nothing to keep from her." The social worker nodded and then told us a story of a couple who became Facebook friends with their carrier. When the carrier was a few months pregnant, the intended mother saw a photo on Facebook of the carrier at a bridal shower with a martini glass in her hand. The carrier insisted it was only ginger ale in the glass but the intended mother couldn't be sure. They didn't speak for the rest of the pregnancy unless it was through their attorneys. I wasn't quite sure why she told us that story, but I said, "Honestly, I don't see anything like that happening with Lily. I just get an all-around positive vibe from her. I'm really not worried." She nodded, "I tend to agree with you about her, but I'm just letting you know that things happen sometimes." Ok, lady, move on. "Ok, next question," she said. "Do you have any dietary restrictions you'd like Lily to follow?" This was a difficult question because, as much as I'd love for her to eat an entirely organic diet without any junk food, I needed to be realistic. I mean, when I was pregnant with my kids the only thing I could keep down for the first few months was fast food. And I HATE fast food! "Honestly, as long as she doesn't eat the foods that are considered dangerous during pregnancy, I trust that she'll be smart about what she puts into her body." She started to write, "Ok, so no raw fish or soft cheeses or the others that her OB will warn her about. Anything else?" I thought for a minute, "I'd prefer she didn't drink diet soda. I don't like the idea of the artificial sweeteners." She wrote that down. "Ok, last question. How do you feel about triplets? I know you're only planning on transferring two embryos, but sometimes they split." I looked at Jimmi who was shaking his head and actually starting to sweat then I answered, "Unless there's a medical reason, I don't think I'd be able to reduce one." The social worker got very serious as she explained the increased risk of serious problems for both the carrier and the babies when triplets are conceived. The chance of death is greater and there is a high probability that the babies would be born at 27 or 28 weeks, weighing just a pound each, and spend months in the NICU. In the end we agreed that, in the off chance triplets resulted, we would choose to reduce to twins. I'm praying we will never have to make that call.

When we finished with the social worker we headed back to the waiting room to hang out until Lily was done with her ultrasound and mock transfer. My stomach was holding up surprisingly well and I decided to eat part of a bagel while we waited. Lily and Jason came out a few minutes later. "How did it go?" I asked. "It was ok. I didn't really like the doctor, though. He didn't communicate what he was doing very well and I don't think he washed his hands before he touched me." EEEWWWWW!! We'll make a note to request one of the other doctors for the transfer. Then I remembered, "Oh! Did you sign off on our ineligible embryos?" I was happy to see Lily nodding that she had. "So what else did you have to do aside from the ultrasound and blood tests?" I asked. Lily replied, "We had to take a psychological exam with like a hundred and forty questions!" "For real? What did they ask you?" I was curious. Lily giggled, "I think the weirdest one was, 'In your spare time do you enjoy stamp-collecting and archery?'." What? "Really?" I asked, completely confused as to why those two hobbies would be associated with each other. "How did you answer that?" Jason laughed, "I said 'sometimes'!"

The social worker came to get us for our group meeting and we all sat in a circle. We discussed the triplet fiasco and keeping the lines of communication open. Then we got to the food issue. "Lily, Suzanne mentioned that she'd prefer that you don't drink diet soda during the pregnancy. How do you feel about that?" I saw Lily's face drop and I realized there might be a problem, "I drink one can of Diet Coke every day." There was silence until the social worker spoke again, "Are you able to drink something else during the pregnancy?" My brain started going a mile a minute, wondering if one can of diet soda a day would really do that much damage to my unborn baby when 50 years ago pregnant women drank alcohol and smoked and gave birth to perfectly healthy children. Lily responded, "I did it with both of my kids and also when I carried my cousin's baby. They're all fine." Is it really that big of a deal? I thought to myself. "It's really only one can a day?" I asked. Josh answered as Lily nodded, "It's only one. And sometimes she doesn't even finish it." I nodded, "It's fine. I have no problem with that."

We finished with the social worker and Jimmi and I met with the financial coordinator for a few minutes then we were finally free to go. After a quick meeting with my mom and dad, who were dying to hug the couple who would help give them more grandkids, we were on our way to New York City! Since Lily and Jason had never been to this part of the country before, I decided to try and show them as much as we could in a few short hours. "We're taking you to Liberty State Park so you can see The Statue of Liberty," I said as we drove down the NJ Turnpike. When we got out of the car the humidity was almost suffocating but we started walking toward the large, green Lady anyway. Lily was snapping photos along the way and I realized how much I take for granted living so close to the monument. We got to the edge of the water and stared at The Statue's back. Since we weren't actually on Ellis Island we couldn't see her front side, but it didn't seem to matter to Lily and Jason. This was more of her than they ever thought they'd see. We walked down the path and finally found a someone who spoke English and asked them to take our picture in front of Lady Liberty, then we headed back to the car and the air conditioning. The heat didn't help my stomach at all and I chewed a couple of anti-nausea pills, followed by some gum, then we were off to NYC.

As we drove I pointed out The Empire State Building in the skyline. When we got to The Lincoln Tunnel I explained that they needed to watch the wall for the New Jersey/New York sign because that was the state line. "So what's over the tunnel?" Lily asked when we were almost halfway through. "The Hudson River," I responded. She seemed surprised, "So I guess it would be bad if we got stuck down here?" That's an understatement! "Here comes the sign!" I announced while pointing at the wall. "Hey! I've officially been to New York," Jason said with his face beaming. And once again I realized I really need to appreciate living so close to these places.

We parked the car in the garage outside the tunnel and started walking down 42nd Street, headed for Times Square. I could feel my stomach getting angry again and I hoped that ignoring it would make it chill out. Once again, I pointed out The Empire State Building, though it was much closer and much bigger this time. There were people buzzing all around us and sirens and car horns were blaring in our ears. It was nothing new to me but I turned to see the overwhelmed look on Jason's face, "Everything's going so fast. I'm trying to take it all in." He said. I tried to imagine how different this city must be from a place like Minneapolis, but since I've never been there, it was hard to picture. I hoped it wasn't too much for them.

We finally made it to Times Square and they were bombarded by street solicitors offering them passes to comedy shows. They held their own and knew not to stop and answer questions about where they were from and what their plans were that night. We turned and walked up Broadway and I showed them where the ball drops on New Year's Eve and where MTV Networks is located. Then we went across the street to the famous Toys r Us with a ferris wheel, a life-sized animatronic T-rex and a walk-in Barbie Dream House inside. The heat was really getting to me and I told Jimmi I'd catch up as I searched the store for a bathroom. Please just let me get through this day, I pleaded with the Health God. I found my group a few minutes later and Jason and Lily were looking for gifts for their kids. "I hope my stomach chills out or it's not gonna be pretty," I whispered to Jimmi. He gave me a sympathetic frown and we trucked on. "Look!" I called out a minute later. Jimmi turned to see me pointing to a purple box with Disney princesses all over it and words that read, "Royal Drum and Sticks." Inside the box was a pink drum with the same princesses on it and two small, pink drum sticks. "Who's that for?" Jimmi asked. I stared at him with a cheshire cat grin, "Our baby!" Jason laughed, "Now you have to buy it!" And that's what we did! Jimmi walked the tiny drum up to the register and bought our unborn child her very first present. I can't even describe the warm tingles that traveled through my entire body at that moment. And, no, it wasn't the nausea!

With a trip to a t-shirt shop and a stop at the M&M's Store under our belt, we were finally on our way to dinner at the famous Sardi's. My stomach was really bothering me at that point and I couldn't wait to sit down. We were seated immediately and I searched the menu for anything I would consider appetizing. As the moments passed it felt as if a giant ball of pain was growing right in the center of my abdomen. I tried so had to talk and be cheery but it was getting more and more difficult to do so. "What are you having?" I asked Lily. She told me her choice and I asked if she wanted an appetizer. The look of confusion on her face told me that food before food might not be something she and Jason were accustom to, so I opened the menu to the first page and showed her the choices. "Get whatever you want," I insisted. She started to read, then pointed to the fresh mozzarella and sliced tomato option. "Is that mozzarella sticks?" she asked. Again I was forced to realize how much I take for granted where I live. In New York and New Jersey fresh mozzarella cheese is a staple on the menu. In Minnesota it's probably unheard of. "No, it's actually the mozzarella before it becomes a stick," I explained. Lily looked confused so I offered, "Jimmi's gonna order it. You can try some of his." When it was time to place our orders I decided on a steamed vegetable basket with a side of brown rice in the hopes that I'd be able to eat a little bit of the rice, but I wasn't hopeful as the pain ball continued to take over my stomach.

Jimmi's first course was delivered to the table and Lily asked, "What's that?" I told her, "That's the mozzarella. Try some." Jimmi cut each of them a slice and I watched as Lily took her first bite and then her second. "Do you like it?" I questioned. She nodded, "It's ok." She said. Then she looked up and asked, "So this is basically just a hunk o' cheese?" I laughed out loud and nodded, "I'm totally writing that down so I can use it in my blog!" A few minutes later our meals came out. The steamer basket of vegetables was placed in front of me and the waiter lifted the lid. The sight and smell of the food almost made me gag and I pushed it away promptly. I moved the bowl of rice closer to me and attempted to put a forkful into my mouth. It was like forcing down rocks. It tasted good but it was so hard to swallow it. I put my fork down and just sat there pleading with the Health God again. But as the minutes passed I grew sicker and sicker and quieter and quieter. I tried to plan out an emergency path to the bathroom just in case, but since it was upstairs, it wouldn't be an easy run. Just then Lily excused herself and went up to use the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later shaking her head, "There's a women in there pumping soap and handing you towels. I think she wanted me to tip her but I didn't bring my money up there." Great. A bathroom attendant. Just what I need when I'm about to head up there and make some ungodly noises. "Are you ok?" Jason suddenly asked me. I guess the fact that I wasn't eating at all and I hadn't spoken in about ten minutes made it pretty obvious, "Not really. I'm not feeling well again." I excused myself and made my way up to the bathroom where I was greeted by the soap-pumping, towel-dispensing, privacy-stealing attendant. A few minutes later I was back at the table trying to force down the rice again, but it was hopeless. The food was cleared and Jimmi and Jason ordered dessert.

In a desperate attempt to feel better, I chewed a few more anti-nausea pills and within seconds the pain ball felt like it was breaking up. Dessert came and Lily asked Jimmi, "What is that?" He smiled, "It's tiramisu. Here, try it!" And he dished out a little to each of them. "But what is it?" she asked again. I explained, "It's lady fingers dipped in espresso and mascarpone cheese." She shook her head, "What the heck is a lady finger?!" We all laughed and I felt the pain ball continue to break down in my stomach. Little by little my body was starting to feel normal again. I was able to join back into the conversation and Jason noticed right away, "You must be feeling better." I smiled, "Did my color come back?" I asked. "You never lost your color," he assured me, "You just got very quiet." It only took one meeting for him to realize that I am NEVER quiet unless I'm sick. Very perceptive.

We finished dinner and walked one block to the theater where we were going to see the play, Once. I had originally planned on taking them to see Wicked, but changed my mind last minute because I thought Jimmi and Jason would like the music better in Once. I immediately started kicking myself for that decision as soon as the tickets were purchased. Don't get me wrong, Once is a great show with beautiful music. But it's VERY tame. There's absolutely nothing spectacular about the sets or the costumes and there aren't any special effects. I consider it a show for Broadway regulars who know what the theater is all about and don't mind a calm performance every now and then. Wicked encompasses all that Broadway is meant to be. I should've gone with my first instincts. But, hopefully this won't be Lily and Jason's last trip to The Big Apple and I'll have another opportunity to show them another side of Broadway. Our seats were very close and right in the center of the stage. Throughout the show I could hear Jason laughing loudly at each amusing line and I relaxed a bit knowing that he was clearly enjoying the performance.

When it was all over we walked back to the car in the cool night air. "Awhile ago I did this test on Facebook about how I would die," Lily started. "It said I would be murdered in Times Square," she laughed. I giggled, "Well I guess it was wrong!" As we drove home we talked and laughed and still never had any moments of awkward silence. We pulled up to the hotel and hugs flew all around then Jimmi and I got back into the car and headed back to our house.

Success.

There isn't any other word to describe the trip as a whole. It was a complete and total success. Yes, we had a few bumps in the road with flights and stomachaches, but all in all it was amazing. I don't know if there is a God, but it's clear that a higher being led us to Lily and Jason. They are absolutely everything we were hoping to find when we set out on our search for the perfect oven for our bun.

And now the countdown begins. Just a few more steps to go before Baby Kane comes out of the freezer and starts baking!

Minnesota Meets New York City - Part 1

"WHAT?!" I screamed loudly as I opened the e-mail from United Airlines with the subject line: Flight cancellation.

As of 8:55 a.m. on July 10, your United flight from Minneapolis/St. Paul, MN to New York/Newark, NJ on July 10 is canceled.

"Shut UP!" I yelled as I tried to understand exactly what was happening. I looked at the other e-mails waiting to be read and I saw one from Lily, "Today is finally here!" Without thinking, I e-mailed her back, "I just got an e-mail that your flight was canceled! Calling Tara now." I grabbed the phone and dialed Tara's cell number. As soon as the cheery voice greeted me on the other end of the line, I blurted out, "Lily and Jason's flight was canceled for no reason and I just got another e-mail telling me they rebooked them on a flight tomorrow morning, but that will be too late! What are we gonna do?" Tara tried to remain calm, "What?" she began before changing her tone and immediately started to problem-solve. "Ok, here's what needs to happen. One of our carriers just delivered twins so I'm waiting for the hospital to call me back. You need to call United and tell them that Lily is a patient and it is a medical necessity for her to get to New Jersey tonight. See if they can get her on another flight. Have them check their partner airlines, too. If they can't help, I'll look into other options when I'm off my call. Just relax! They'll get there."

I hung up the phone and tried to chill out a little bit, but I knew there were a lot of restrictions on our timing. It was about 9:30 AM, at this point, which meant it was 8:30 AM in MN. Lily needed to work a half-day which is why we originally booked the last flight out of MN at 7:30 PM. Because they live two hours from the airport, anything earlier really wouldn't give them enough time to arrive at the terminal, check in, go through security and get to the gate before the boarding process began. But, before calling United, I had to ask Lily, "Are you able to leave earlier in the day?" She responded right away, "I'm not sure how it would all work out." I totally understood. We weren't only dealing with Lily and Jason's work schedules, we also had to consider a sitter for their kids and their ride to the airport. This random flight cancelation had about 10 people scrambling just for our party alone!

I took a breath and called United. As I punched in the confirmation number and told the automated system I needed to speak with a live person, I begged myself not to scream at the poor agent who would be unlucky enough to answer my call. "Thank you for calling United Airlines, how may I help you?" BREATHE! "Hi, I have a problem." What did Tara tell me to say again? "Um, I have...no...I mean...A flight was canceled tonight for no reason and I have patients on that flight who need to be in New Jersey tonight for medical testing first thing tomorrow morning!" Gotta love verbal diarrhea. "Ok, let me see what I can do." I heard the clicking of fingers on a keyboard and then, "I can put them on the four o'nine P.M. flight. Does that work?" I have no idea. "Umm, it might, but I'm not sure. They live two hours from the airport. Do you have a partner airline you can check for something later?" I e-mailed Lily as I waited, "Can you leave at 4:09?" The agent came back to the line, "I can put you on a Delta flight at five twenty-two to Laguardia." Ugh! Laguardia SUCKS! I was still waiting for Lily's reply and I needed to make a decision, "If I put them on the four o'nine and they can't do it, can I change them again without penalty?" After assuring me that would be ok, I confirmed the 4:09 flight and e-mailed Lily to let her know. "I'm not sure we'll make it to Minneapolis on time. Hopefully we can get it to work out. I see that American Airlines has a 2:10 flight out of Rochester, MN." Since Rochester is only a half an hour from their house, it seemed like a better option than rushing them around to get out of Minneapolis. I checked the website, found the flight, went to book it and almost had a heart attack when I saw the price was almost $1000 per ticket. 

Ding!

Click!

E-mail from Tara, "What's going on? Is everything set?" I explained the options to Tara, who immediately called Lily and got back to me. "They're confirmed for the 4:09 out of Minneapolis. It'll be a little bit tight, but they should make it."

I was able to breathe again. I looked at the clock and realized it was only 10:00 AM. I never have that much drama before noon! Now that everything was back on track I was finally able to start my day. Things were just peachy for almost a whole two hours!

Ding!

Click!

From: United Airlines. Subject: Flight cancelation. Body: As of 11:55 a.m. on July 10, your United flight from Minneapolis/St. Paul, MN to New York/Newark, NJ on July 10 is canceled.

NO WAY! Wait! I know what happened. All of these automated systems make mistakes, right? They probably just sent the cancelation notice from the original flight again. Yeah, I'm sure that's what happened. Right?

I typed "United.com" into my browser and signed in to my account. I looked at my confirmed reservations and didn't see anything for July 10th. But I did see one for the next day, July 11th, at 11:30 AM. "Are you KIDDING me?!" I screamed loudly enough to startle Jimmi, who was in another room. "What happened?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen where I was yelling at my computer screen. "They canceled their flight AGAIN!" He looked as confused as I was. "Why?" he asked innocently. "I DON'T KNOW!" 

I called Tara again but it went right to voicemail. I e-mailed Lily, "Don't leave. Your flight was canceled again." I called Tara again with no answer so I e-mailed her. "Their flight was canceled again! I don't know what to do!" She wrote me back and apologized but she was on a conference call and wouldn't be able to help for another hour, but I should look into all options and she'll help as soon as she is off the call. 

SHIT!!!

I called my mom. "Their flight was canceled AGAIN! Why does this keep happening? They need to get here tonight!" "Relax," my mom instructed. "They'll get here." I wasn't so sure. I called United again, but this time I was a little less calm. I used the same medical necessity speech as I had before and explained that this was the second time the flight had been canceled for no reason. "It's showing weather in Newark," she explained. I looked out the window at the blue sky and bright, yellow sun and shrieked, "What weather? I'm forty minutes from Newark and there's nothing going on!" She curtly replied, "You're not thirty-thousand feet in the air." Fair enough, Lady. Fair enough. "I have a three o'clock flight I can put them on but it connects in Chicago." They're not gonna make that. "Is there anything later? Anything into New York City or Philadelphia?" I was desperate. Laguardia seemed like a terrible option after the first canceled flight, but at this point, anything in the general vicinity would have beed a suitable option. 

While I waited I texted Lily: 

"Any chance you can make a 3:00 flight?"

"In Rochester?"

"MN"

"But in Rochester or the cities?"

"MN"

"In Rochester or Minneapolis?"

Why isn't she getting this? Oh, I'm a moron. I'm abbreviating Minneapolis as MN, which is the abbreviation for Minnesota. They're BOTH in Minnesota!

"Minneapolis. Oops."

"I don't think we'll be able to make that one."

The agent started speaking again, "There are two seats left on a four o'clock into Philadelphia and two seats left on a five o'clock into New York City." WHAT SHOULD I DO?! "If I book them on the three o'clock into Newark and they don't make it, will they be able to get on one of the other flights?" She was very nice, "It depends on availability, but there are enough options that they should be able to get something." 

I confirmed the 3:00 flight into Newark and texted Lily, "You're confirmed on the 3:00 but there are options if you miss it. When you get there tell everyone you're late and haul ass to the gate!" I didn't get a reply so I assumed they were rushing around getting everything together. I looked at the time. It was 1:20 PM. 12:20 PM in Minnesota. If it takes them two hours to get to the airport they'll be there at 2:20 for a 3:00 flight. That doesn't leave any time for traffic or check-in or security lines.

They're not gonna make it.

Ding!

Click!

It was from Tara. "I finished my conference call and I'm here to help. What can I do?" I explained the situation to her and told her I was sure Lily and Jason would never make it. I didn't even know if they'd left for the airport yet. A few minutes later Tara wrote again telling me she'd just spoken to Lily and they were, in fact, on their way. She explained to Lily that the midwestern politeness would have to be thrown out the window as soon as they arrived at the airport because they'd need to push to the front of all the lines and explain that they were late and needed to get to their flight for medical reasons. In the meantime, Tara was planning to check out options into Newark on other airlines just in case they didn't make it. "Positive energy! Positive energy!" was her mantra as she tried to talk me off the ledge.

I found things to occupy my brain as much as I could for the next hour and a half until, finally, I heard from Tara. "They just got to the airport," she wrote at 2:56 PM. Since it was only 1:56 in Minnesota, I was relieved that Lily and Jason still had at least a half an hour to get to their gate before the boarding process began. That was a good start. Twenty minutes later I got another e-mail from Tara, "They're at the gate!" I think we all let out a collective sigh at that point and I texted Lily, "We'll be waiting for you with lots of alcohol."

And then they were on their way.

Jimmi and I arrived at the airport twenty minutes before their flight was scheduled to arrive. I was surprised that I wasn't nervous at all. We waited at the bottom of the escalator that leads into baggage claim from the main terminal and as the moving stairs lowered the people into view, I watched as feet became legs became bodies became faces. Nope, not them. Nope, not them either. My phone vibrated. "You here?" Lily asked. I looked around and didn't see anyone who looked even a little bit like their pictures. "Yes. Bottom of the escalator," I replied. "Near carousel 6." "Coming over now," she answered. I looked at Jimmi, "I guess we're at the wrong escalator." I turned around and scanned the melting pot of people walking through the baggage claim area. Not one blonde, blue-eyed couple crossed our path. Where are they? And then I saw them! I saw the couple who had just rearranged their entire day about thirty times to make it to New Jersey tonight so Jimmi and my baby plans could continue on schedule. "You're here!" I squealed as I hugged Jason and Jimmi hugged Lily and then vice versa. 

We walked to my car chatting casually about the flights and all of the drama from the day. They were so easy to talk to and nothing seemed forced or uneasy. Since Lily hadn't eaten since breakfast we decided to introduce the couple to a traditional New Jersey diner on the way to their hotel. "You need to try Taylor Ham," I insisted and described the pork product that is only found in my home state. Twenty minutes later my GPS brought us to a diner I'd never been to before but was recommended by my brother. The smell of fish greeted us as we opened the door and I was tempted to turn and walk out. Unsure of another restaurant on the way to the hotel that would be open at 10:00 PM, we had no choice but to stay and hope for the best. We placed our orders, with a side of Taylor Ham, then continued our conversation about kids and sports and anything else that came to mind. I couldn't believe how easy it was. The expected awkwardness of a first-time meeting with two couples who'd never laid eyes on each other was missing completely and it was as if we were old friends getting together and catching up on our lives. We ate and talked and joked and laughed and never had a break where there was nothing to say. 

After the bill was paid we got back into the car and headed to the hotel. We had to be up very early the next day for our all-day extravaganza at the fertility clinic. "See you at about seven forty-five," I said to Lily after we'd made sure they were checked in and settled. More hugs were exchanged then Jimmi and I walked back out and started the 30 minute drive home. I couldn't stop smiling as I thought of how well this first night had gone. Just a few hours with this amazing couple and I was absolutely sure they were the right ones to take care of our tiny bundle for the first nine months of her little life. I knew they willing to do this for all the right reasons. I knew there was a reason I had to weed out all the trash Agency A had sent us. The timing had to be right to lead us to Lily and Jason and I was so glad we'd found them!

I went to bed that night with a stomach full of pancakes and a heart full of hope.

But the next morning I had an entirely different feeling...

Not Just a Fun Guy

As the pain in my ass continues to fade away the excitement for the next step in our baby journey has started to grow. While I remember all of the adorable things about my boys when they were babies, the not-so-cute catastrophes have made a comeback in my brain as well. The sleepless nights, the incessant crying for no apparent reason, the internal alarm clock that tells Baby it's time to wake up for the day at 5:00 AM, the diaper explosions that somehow made it all the way up to their little necks, the constant smell of spit-up all over all of your clothes...and furniture...and carpets...

Ah, the joys of having a baby!

But I've been there. I know what I'm getting into again. Though it's been ten years since I've had to go through the newborn stage, I think I'm prepared for it.

But then there's Jimmi.

Don't get me wrong. Jimmi is probably the coolest stepdad around. For starters, he's a tattooed drummer with a mohawk. But aside from that, he's so much fun! He plays basketball with Dylan and coaches Justin's baseball team. He's always up for Rock Band on Xbox and he gives the boys soda and sugar when I'm not around. "Shhh! Don't tell your mom!" he warns them as he's texting me on the side, "I just gave them Coke and donuts." He takes them shopping for my birthday and makes sure they have cards and flowers for me on Mother's Day. He goes to all of their School of Rock shows and gives up hours of his time to set up and break down a drum set when Justin decides he wants to play a four minute long song for his chorus class. Yes, my kids and I are VERY lucky to have a guy like Jimmi around.

But there are some limitations to Jimmi's SuperStepdad status.

Jimmi came into my boys' lives when they were just 3 and 5, but I kept him at arms length. Until Jimmi and I were totally committed in a serious relationship, the boys thought we were just friends and only saw him on occasion. I think they were 6 and 8 when I finally introduced Jimmi as my boyfriend, and, by that point, they were way out of the baby stages. I never asked Jimmi to put the boys to bed or take them to the doctor or care for them when they were sick. I've always made it a point not to leave him in a situation where he would feel uncomfortable dealing with the kids, and I knew his biggest fear of all was vomit.

Ok, I get it. NO ONE wants to deal with a puking kid. I have a fear of vomit myself, but when it's your kid, you do what you have to do. I remember Jimmi, the boys and I went on a trip to the West Coast about a year and a half ago. As we were driving from California to Nevada to see Hoover Dam I heard the dreaded words from the back seat, "My stomach feels weird." From past experiences I took Dylan's warning as, "I'm gonna throw up in the next thirty seconds so move fast if you don't want it in the car." We were in the far left lane of the three-lane highway and I screamed, "PULL OVER NOW!" The car had barely stopped in the shoulder when I flung Dylan's door open just in time for the fluid to hit the side of the road and not the carpet of the car. I turned to the driver's seat to see Jimmi closing his eyes and covering his ears to block out any audio or visual of the retching that was taking place a foot away from him. Dylan finished up, rinsed his mouth and got back into the car. We were back in the fast lane for less than five minutes when I heard a voice from the other side of the car, "My tummy doesn't feel too good." Seriously? I took one look at Justin's face and I knew. "PULL OVER NOW!" I shouted once again, knowing Justin wasn't going to make it. "Open the window! Get your head out!" I watched as the nastiness poured down the outside of the car then jumped out to open the door when we finally stopped. I was holding Justin's hair back while he finished up and I heard Jimmi's panicked voice from inside the car, "What's wrong with these kids?!" he asked. "Clearly, they're sick," I explained. "I hope I don't catch it. I can't handle that," Jimmi said.

That day has always stuck out in my mind.

I've always shielded Jimmi from the worst parts when the kids are sick. Yes, he sees them on the couch, covered in blankets. He watches me medicate them and rub their backs. He asks them how they're feeling and tells them he's sorry they aren't well. But I keep the gross stuff far away from him. But now we're going to be starting a family of our own. He'll need to step it up and learn to clean up vomit. But what if he can't? What if he gets totally freaked out and wants nothing to do with his baby when she's sick?

Maybe he isn't ready to be a dad.

Fast forward to yesterday. Dylan had been looking forward to the day for weeks! "Mom, I really wish I could go to Warped Tour," he'd said, nonchalantly, a few weeks ago. Van's Warped Tour is an all-day concert festival with tons of bands on three different stages. Never one to stop my kids from going to a concert, I immediately checked the local dates. "Hmmm," I said as I looked. "I'm going to see Cyndi Lauper with Grandma Leen the night Warped is in New Jersey, but I bet Jimmi would take you. Why don't you ask him?" The text had barely left Dylan's phone when he received a reply from his stepdad, "Sure!" Tickets were purchased, plans were made and the 12 year-old's excitement grew as each day brought him closer to the mega-concert. And, finally, yesterday was the day!

Because the show is an all day event, gates were scheduled to open at 11:00 AM. Unfortunately, they don't post a schedule of bands until you actually get to the venue, that way they can avoid having people just show up at the end of the night for one particular band and, instead, have them held captive and able to spend money all day long. Jimmi told Dylan they'd need to leave at 8:30 AM to make sure they had enough time for travel plus traffic and parking. I was shocked when I went down the hall to wake Dylan up at 8 and he was already downstairs, fully dressed and ready to go. "Ready, Bud?" I asked. His eyes were wide with excitement as he nodded his head emphatically. "It's super hot out today, so make sure you drink a lot of water, " I instructed as they headed out the door.

At 10:45 I got a text from Jimmi, "Here. Waiting in line to get in." Ok, good. They made it. But when I saw Jimmi's name pop up on my caller ID about 15 minutes later I knew something was wrong. "Dylan's throwing up," Jimmi said with a surprisingly calm tone. I had to let his words register before I responded. "What? Why?" was all I could get out. "I don't know," he said. "He was perfectly fine. He ate a bagel and drank some iced tea. We were standing in line and all of a sudden he felt sick. He barely made it to the grass." My stomach dropped and my heart was pounding. They were an hour and a half away and Jimmi can't handle a vomiting kid! What was I gonna do? "Is he ok?" I asked. "He says he's fine now. He doesn't know what happened." I thought for a minute. Dylan has always had a weak stomach. Even one whiff of a smell he doesn't like can aggravate his gag reflex. Or maybe he was just so excited he got sick? "What do you want to do?" I asked Jimmi, knowing he was probably about to have a panic attack. But, once again, his voice was very calm, "It's ok. He said he's fine now. I don't want to make him go home. This is his day." Wow. "Ok, well keep me posted," I said as we hung up the phone. I was impressed. Jimmi didn't freak out when faced with a puking kid. He must be growing up.

But when I heard my phone buzz 15 minutes later, my heart stopped. "He just pooped his pants." No way. NO WAY! "What?! He's 12!" I wrote back. "Is he ok?" Something was definitely wrong with my kid and I was completely helpless from where I was sitting. I couldn't wait for the text back and I picked up the phone and called my husband, "Is he ok? What happened? Can I talk to Dylan?" I didn't know which question I wanted answered first. "He's fine," Jimmi tried to calm me down. "He's in the bathroom cleaning himself up. I don't really know what happened. We were sitting down talking about our plan for the day and he just told me it happened." All I wanted to do was talk to Dylan. I needed to make sure he was ok. "I think you should come home," I told Jimmi. "I really don't want to make him leave if he's ok. I'd feel really bad if he didn't get to see the bands he wants to see." Was this the same person who freaked out on the side of the road last year? "But what about his pants?" Jimmi laughed, "I told him it happens. Sometimes a fart isn't just a fart! I told him to throw out his underwear, clean up, wash his hands and come back out." I was speechless. "Ok. Have him call me when he's done." As I waited to hear my baby's voice I just sat there thinking about how well Jimmi was doing with this whole mess. I'm pretty sure I was handling it worse than he was! Dylan called me back and he sounded totally fine, "I'm ok, Mom. I really don't know what happened. I felt fine until right before I threw up. Same with the poop thing. That's never happened to me before!" "Do you want to come home, Baby?" I asked him. "No. I'm fine. Really." I wasn't convinced, "Ok, just let Jimmi know if you change your mind and he'll bring you back."

I hung up the phone and looked at the clock. It was only 11:45. They'd literally been inside the venue for 45 minutes and the day had already turned to shit. Literally. And then I received the next text, "I don't think he's gonna make it. We were waiting in line for passes to meet his favorite band and he told me he had to go sit down because it's too hot." I called Dylan again and he assured me that he was ok; just a little queasy. I texted Jimmi and told him if Dylan had one more incident they needed to come home, but make sure to ask for a plastic garbage bag to take in the car with him, just in case. I'd barely sent the text when my phone started buzzing, "We're coming home. He's throwing up again." Poor kid. "Are you ok?" I finally asked Jimmi. "I'm fine. Pretty proud of myself, actually. I rubbed his back the entire time!" You wouldn't think a statement like that would make my heart flutter, but it totally did. "Awww," I said. "You're gonna be a GREAT Daddy!" And then I remembered my show, "I'll call my mom and tell her I can't go see Cyndi Lauper tonight." Jimmi replied, "No, don't do that! I'll stay home with the kids. It'll be fine. Go have fun!" I had to lift my jaw up off the floor before I answered, "But Dylan's sick. And you'll have to pick Justin up from his friend's house at nine and put them both to bed." He was totally unphased, "We'll be fine! Go do your thing. You've been looking forward to mother/daughter night for a long time."

And that's how the night played out.

Dylan seemed a bit better after he'd been home and out of the heat for awhile, so I was a little more comfortable leaving him. Jimmi made him some plain pasta (Jimmi doesn't cook...at all!) and made sure he drank lots of fluids. But while I was at dinner Jimmi texted to let me know Dylan didn't eat at all and he was sleeping on the couch. It was only 6:00 PM. "Can you take his temperature?" Without hesitation, Jimmi figured out how to scan the thermometer across Dylan's forehead and give me the reading: 99.7. "Ok, it's not really a fever, but obviously something is going on. You'll need to check him again in about an hour. If it goes over 100, he's gonna need Tylenol. Shit. I only have extra-strength." Jimmi wrote back, "It's ok! I'll run out and get the regular one. Anything else?" I thought a minute. "Ginger ale," I typed. "But don't leave while he's sleeping!" He replied, "Relax! I won't!"I looked across the table at my mom and shook my head. "Who is that man at my house taking care of my sick kid like a pro?" She laughed, "He had to learn sometime!"

By the time my concert started Jimmi had already purchased regular Tylenol and ginger ale, picked up Justin from his friend's house, taken Dylan's temperature two or three more times (never went over 100) and gotten them both into bed. "Everyone's asleep!" he texted me proudly. I hated feeling like a nag, but I had to ask, "Can you please put a bowl next to Dylan's bed, just in case?" He wrote right back, "Already did."

And just like that, Jimmi made the jump from stepdad to dad.

And the timing couldn't be more perfect. In two days we'll meet the woman who will hopefully become pregnant with our baby in the next month or so. I finally feel confident that Jimmi is ready for his new title...

Daddy.