LOST VS Schnitzel

D-Day+11(and counting).

Well, you wouldn’t read about it, except…you already are.

The final conclusion to the ongoing schnitzel saga…is being strung out longer than the final episode of LOST.

I mean, come on…we all want to know…

What’s in that damn hatch?

Who’s behind all this?

What in the hell is going on??!!

Even with a tiny Jack Shephard and John Locke on board to lend a hand, we’re still none the wiser.

It’s just like the end of each LOST episode. At last…we’re finally getting the answers we’re looking for. And that answer is…

Revealed next episode…NOOOOOOO!!!

And just so everyone’s up to speed…

Previously…on LOST…

Jack and Kate are still desperate to see what’s in the hatch. Locke has tried to lubricate the hinges, but it will still be several hours before they know if the concoction he used will have loosened things up enough to get the door open. Hurley informs them that maybe Jack should go home and get some sleep. They’ll try again at sunrise. In the meantime, Sun and Claire will look after Kate and if things get crazy, Sawyer will send up a smoke signal and then, you come running.

Reluctantly, Jeff Probst from Survivor, hands Jack his torch and he retreats back into the jungle.

Meanwhile…Desmond continued to press the button…every 108 minutes.

‘Til next week! (Well, hopefully tomorrow lunchtime…at the latest). Just so long as it’s not another rerun…just cut to the end already!!

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No Room at the Inn

D-Day+9(and counting).

All geared up and nowhere to go. Clearly, the hospital maternity ward and our little schnitzel know nothing about the musings of one John ‘Hannibal’ Smith (aka the leader of TV’s smash 80’s action series, The A-Team), and his infamous mantra…

“I love it when a plan comes together.”

Because so far, nothing is going to plan. Despite already being 9 days overdue, we thought we finally had the ball rolling when we were booked in for an induction today at 2pm. Early this morning, we got a call that we had to be bumped back to 6pm. Okay…no biggie. Then, a couple hours before heading in, we get another call informing us of a sudden emergency birthing priority (that’s code for: We don’t want to miss the next epiosde of “Offspring”), and to which, also means…

“There’s no room at the Inn.”

It’s a familiar story that goes waaaay back, (I think it was an episode of The Brady Bunch). A “young” (ahem) pregnant couple turned away at their moment of need. My wife says it’s because of the emergency, but I suspect it’s because they didn’t believe she was a virgin. That, and the Three Wise Guys (re: Stooges) DVD under my arm, did us no favors (what am I supposed to watch while all this is going on?). And the donkey we rode up on, did nothing to sweeten the deal or motion our case further. Not quite sure who the bigger “ass” was in the end…(no need to comment, my love).

But they did another CTG just to monitor how things we’re going, before assuring us that we will definitely be inducing our little fella at 2pm tomorrow. So, that still gives him 10 hrs to still slip out into the world on Independence Day (fingers crossed for real, this time).

But, the truth be known, they were really, really, REALLY busy. Heaps of babies coming into the world in all manner of ways. We even ran into a brand new dad with his baby wrapped in a tea towel, just arriving with his wife in the back of an ambulance out front!

So, we did what any other couple would do who’ve waited this long already…

We went out for Chinese! And why not? It’s our last chance to eat in a restaurant that doesn’t have you ordering through a Clown’s Mouth, for a while.

So, one more sleepless night for both of us and hopefully (please, please, please, please, please, please, please), LET US IN tomorrow. I assure you, the last thing I want to do, is to bust open the barn doors on my own!

“I pity the fool.” — B.A. Baracus


Marching Orders

D-Day+8(and counting).

After yesterday’s Inside Scoop, we fully expected to be holding a little schnitzel in our arms by now, but he obviously has more important things on his mind. Like driving us out of our minds with all this waiting…waiting…waiting. It’s pretty exhausting and we haven’t even started yet!


But after a quick meeting with the Plumbing Doctor today…

Not only did we get a 10% discount off checking her faucets and replacing all our washers, but we’ve also been given the AOK to come into the hospital tomorrow and finally get things underway.

The plan is, to head in during the afternoon. Face a couple of procedural steps that need to be monitored overnight and then…all things going to plan (good luck), we should be meeting our little bloke on Wednesday. Hospital regulations mean I have to leave my love alone in the capable midwives hands overnight, while I head home and spend my evening alone, nervously chewing the furniture and wearing a track in the carpet, hoping everything goes to plan.

Then I head into the hospital Wednesday morning, they break her waters (I believe this is ceremoniously done by smashing a bottle of champagne over her hull, similar to the launching of a boat), and then spend the next “x” number of hours, watching our wonder come into the world.

So all things going to plan, as my friend Allan texted me, “Just breathe in and don’t forget to breathe out…July 4th – for you, will be Dependence Day!”


Internal Affairs

So, we just got back from the CTG Monitoring and we’re…all good.

Schnitzel aced the exam (to be expected), but it was a little unsettling to watch. If you examine the pics below, you’ll see my lovely wife looks like she was in fact being interrogated by the KGB (perhaps my thoughts CAN manifest into reality?…Better watch what I think about in future).

Either that, or she looks like a contestant on a sadistic medical game show version of  Spicks and Specks. Only every time she presses the buzzer, Adam Hills gives her an electric shock! But just so her mother doesn’t have a cardiac arrest thinking she’s the subject of some kind of euthanasia experiment, all this machine does is monitor the baby’s heart rate, and every time momma feels the baby move, she presses the buzzer…(and administers a tiny electrical shock…NO…a handful of feeding pellets drops from the ceiling…NO…she receives a telegram from a Czech Republican man in Prague that simply reads…CUT IT OUT).

In slightly less exciting terms, it actually just registers a tiny musical note on the readout whenever the baby’s heart rate spikes, so they know the spike was caused by his own moving and not something more drastic, like trying to escape his dad’s bad jokes.

Then my lovely wife was offered something called a…“scratch’n’sniff”…NO…“search’n’rescue?”…NO…“catch’n’release?”…WAIT…A…


Which is NOT a 70’s rock band, NOR a new sizing of ladies jeans. It is in fact a little procedure they do to possibly help move things along a bit. I won’t go into too much detail, suffice to say, my lovely wife now knows what it’s like to be…a Muppet. (And not from the Jim Henson end of things, but more from Kermit the Frog’s side of the fence).

But, from all reports, most people who’ve had this done report going into labour within the proceeding 12 hrs (and also report anyone trying this at home without washing their hands afterwards).

So, fingers crossed. Something will definitely be happening within the next 12 hrs…possibly…maybe…hopefully?

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Only The Lonely

Week 41What gives? He should be here by now.

Officially, our little schnitzel is D-Day +7(and counting). I’ve heard of things getting lost in the mail, but lost in the fe-male? Come on!

So, today we head in for some CTG monitoring. That’s when they hook up some electrodes to a car battery and try and jump start the car…it isn’t? My bad. It’s when they get creepy looking KGB agents in dark suits with outdated spy equipment and huge earmuffs, to monitor what’s going on inside the womb and report back to the Kremlin.

Or...somewhere in between.

Basically, they monitor what’s going on inside…“Hey, wasuup li’l man?” and check the placenta is doing what it’s supposed to do. There’s nothing worse than an undisciplined placenta, I’ve always said that. So…

“For Pete’s sake. Sit up straight and do what you’re supposed to do! Okay?” — wow, it’s like I can hear my Grandfather yelling at his own uncooperative little man, in bed after a few too many wines, all over again.

Then, we’re scheduled for an internal exam tomorrow…(damn, I haven’t studied or anything. I asked if any of this was going to be on the test and they said…no), and then they’ll schedule him in for an induction. Which initially, I was extremely excited about, before learning that “induction” is NOT a form of suction cup boot for specifically walking inside, on the ceiling.

But I will be there for support no matter what. Because unfortunately, I am Sir Alec Guinness to my wife’s, Carrie Fisher. In that, almost all of her family will be in Bali for two weeks, when our little son arrives. So, it will definitely be a case of…

“Help me OB-1, you’re my only hope…”

And hopefully, I’m man enough to be all the support she needs. It’s lonely out there in space, no-one can hear you screa– “Oh, my god! What is THAT??!!”

Knock Knock!

D-Day +6(and counting).

Who’s there?
Steel WHO?
Steel waiting.

Who’s there?
Wino WHO?
Wino baby yet?

Who’s there?
Yousef WHO?
Yousef#*ng big, why he not come out before you explode?

Who’s there?
Ouch WHO?
Ouch ya get!!

Who’s there?
Willy WHO?
Willy ever come out?

Who’s there?
Snuff WHO?
Snuff already, get out here.

Who’s there?
Bender WHO?
Bender over and take a look?

Who’s there?
Canoe WHO?
Canoe see anything happening in there?

Who’s there?
Harry WHO?
Harry up you little bugger!

Who’s there?
Wanda WHO?
Wanda how much longer he’s gonna take?

Who’s there?
Water WHO?
Water we gonna do if he doesn’t come out?

Who’s there?
Con WHO?
Sorry, I meant…Confounded little bugger, still ain’t coming.

Who’s there?
Falls WHO?
Falls alarm.

Who’s there?
Them WHO?
Themadness continues…

Bring it On!!

D-Day +5(and counting).

Five days past our due date which means…you have to give him points for consistency.

Punching the air, picketing away with a little sign over his shoulder…

“Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go!”

Gotta love his stick-to-ed-ness…and yes, we get it. Both mumagement and dadagement will take your views under advisement, but in order to discuss things further at the negotiating table, you first have to come to the table. Which is outside, so…get on with it! (For your own safety, you understand).

We’ve explored all the “recommended” methods of bringing it on like walking, spicy foods, pineapple, accupressure, certain stimulations of certain areas that at one point, were part of daddy’s playground but will soon be delivery methods for your sustenance once you’re out.

But we’re getting to the pointy end of the stick, when daddy is starting to come up with his own methods of bringing you on. And some of the ideas that go through my head, didn’t exactly work out for a certain Wile E. Coyote.

NON-RECOMMENDED methods of bringing things on:

#1: High-dive platform diving

#2: Running (or rolling) over hot coals

#3: Mosh pit/stage diving

#4: Stand repeatedly between open and closed sliding glass doors at the supermarket

#5: Stand repeatedly between open and closed elevator doors

#6: Stand repeatedly between open and closed bus doors

#7: Scare him out with cardboard cutout of Tony Abbott in budgie smugglers (may also induce vomiting in the mother)

#8: Body massage with cricket pitch roller

#9: Bungee jumping

#10: ACME rocket skates

So, in order to avoid anything that may result in falling off a cliff to a down-playing swan whistle…it would be really, really, really great if you would come out now…pleeeeease 🙂