I started last week telling you about how Labor Day could be taking on a dual meaning in my home. I also began telling you about the sentimental significance of our favorite local restaurant, Adolfo’s. When we left off last week, I had thus far met my wife there for the very first time, spent almost all of our few and far between date nights there, and got engaged there. So a large portion of all of the significant moments in my life have taken place at Adolfo’s. (At this point by the way, we’re still at the old location by the inlet.)
About four and a half years ago now my wife was expecting our baby, which between the two of us would be number 3. It was May, the weather was getting warmer, the season was getting ready to kick in, and at the time we were both full time bartenders. Baby-to-be was about five days late, and my wife had officially posted an eviction notice on her beautifully swollen belly. Yeah, that’s right. I’m one of those weirdos who loves when my wife is pregnant. I think she’s never more beautiful than when she’s with child. But that’s easy for me to say because I’ve never had to carry one. At least not on the inside.
She was convinced that she could walk the baby out. So we walked. We walked a lot. The boardwalk, around the neighborhood, and every nature trail in the Ocean Pines metropolitan area. To put it in perspective, we covered more real estate on foot that final week than David Carradine in the Kung Fu series and Michael Landon on Highway To Heaven combined. I would say tongue in cheek while I was at work that she was home jumping on a trampoline and drinking hot sauce right out of the bottle. As much as this poor girl loves being pregnant, she was officially over it.
It was Sunday, May 22nd. We had a very dear friend in town for the weekend who was hoping to time her visit with the arrival of our stubborn baby to help us out. Unfortunately, she had to return home to the other side of the bridge later that night. We decided to throw caution to the wind and have one last nice dinner out before labor in case it was our last chance to go out for awhile (which as it turned out, proved to be prophetic).
My wife and I, our daughter, and our friend, decided to go to Adolfo’s…of course. We wanted to see just how many times lightning could strike at the same location. Mind you, we are still at the old location. We sat at a table for four against the wall in the corner near the kitchen. As is always the case, we couldn’t decide what appetizers to get, so we got about eight of them. This by no means stood in the way of us all ordering entrees and desserts.
I don’t recall what the rest of us ordered, but I remember with vivid clarity what my wife’s entree choice was. If I live to 150 years old, I’ll always remember what her meal choice was. It turned out to have mystical powers and has become a go-to dinner in our house in time of need. She ordered the seafood fettuccine alfredo. I remember at first thinking that this was an odd choice because she doesn’t much care for scallops. It worked out to my benefit though as the only way I got a bite was when she handed me the scallops. Other than that, the dish did not stand a chance. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen another human being become so elated just from eating a meal. It was actually therapeutic for me to watch her enjoy it.
As she was finishing her wonderful meal, the chef/ owner, and long time casual acquaintance of mine came out of the kitchen and went to the front desk for a few moments. As he returned to the kitchen, he glanced over at our table and smiled. He got as far as the kitchen doors and stopped dead in his tracks. He back pedaled about 3 steps, and turned toward our table. He approached us with an almost mischievous grin as if he knew something that we didn’t. He looked at my wife and said the following words which we will never forget. “You know, the last woman who was that pregnant, sat in that very seat and had the seafood alfredo. She had a healthy baby exactly 12 hours later.”
We all laughed, I looked at my watch and said to him; “Well, if we have a baby at exactly 9:00 tomorrow morning I’ll give you a call. In fact, maybe we’ll consider Adolfo as a middle name.” We all enjoyed the moment with a smile, he went back into the kitchen, we finished our meal, and called it a night. We went home, and said goodbye to our friend who left for Baltimore shortly thereafter. We put our daughter to bed, and retired ourselves having been exhausted from all of the recent walking.
We went to sleep and at around 4:30 a.m. I awoke to the sound of my wife grimacing in pain with the first wave of contractions. It was go time. And although we had been completely prepared for weeks, the baby was late, and this was not the first time for either of us, I completely derailed. I suddenly became a pathetic combination of the Keystone Cops, the Marx brothers, and all Three Stooges. It had been over 20 years since I had been in this situation, and it suddenly became real and scared the piss out of me.
We left our house in Ocean Pines and started the seemingly endless trek to Salisbury. The plan was to drop our daughter off at my in-laws on the way. That plan would subsequently change as the contractions would soon go from 14 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart. I remembered thinking in my head that this was the one time in my life when I could comfortably break some speed limits without fear of ramifications. It was still dark out but it was a clear morning when we left. As I got on to route 90, approximately 1 mile from my house, it began to rain as if on cue. It rained about as hard as I’d ever seen it before. My wipers could not keep up on the high setting, and I was forced to drive the speed limit. Of course! My one freakin amnesty chip and I don’t even get to use it. It rained a torrential downpour from the time I got on 90 to the moment I pulled up in front of the labor and delivery entrance. Then, again as if on cue it suddenly stopped as abruptly as it started.
I was then, am now, and always will be convinced that the storm was my Mom’s intervention from up above. Even in the afterlife she was keeping me and my family safe. Thanks Mom. And thanks Adolfo’s, and the seafood alfredo because at exactly 9:00 the next morning, we met our beautiful, healthy baby girl.
That’s all for now. There’s a very good chance that by the time you read this I’ll have been blessed with the gift of fatherhood for the 5th time. Thanks for playing along. Until next week, Syd Nichols.
Share your thoughts with me at sydnichols@yahoo.com
