"Tomorrow, Tomorrow, they'll get here Tomorrow...it's only a day away."
Waiting is a difficult activity for me, whether it's for babies, test results, teenagers to get home, or the more mundane line at the grocery store. I should have a notebook handy for all the stories I've invented while I'm waiting:
"They probably decided to go up the canyon, and while they were playing Frisbee in the dark she fell in the stream, and they couldn't find a ranger, so she's floating down the river with no ID and I'll hear about it on the news, and have to identify her by her dental records."
"Instead of playing basketball at the school like he said, he went deer hunting up the canyon with his friend, and they shot a deer. Since he has a broken arm, it took longer to gut the deer, and drag it to the car than they thought...."
Oh....I didn't invent this one. My 16-year-old son did, while I was busy having a conniption fit over him not coming home at 4:30 like he said, and the fact that it was 9:pm and nobody had a clue of where he was.
One of my standards is:
"They know it will kill me when they tell me the results of that biopsy, so they're waiting until the cancer takes over before they call. By then I'll be in such agony that I'll have guessed anyway, and they won't even have to break the news."In this case it's just that the babies aren't ready for this world yet. They want a little more preparation time, a little more of their mother's undivided attention, a little more closeness.
I guess I can wait.