* The fall weather is inspiring me to write about pumpkin patches... but also inspiring me not to write at all, so as a compromise, here is an excerpt from my book I'd Rather Wear Pajamas
Pregnancy is fun. Being pregnant with your sister and best friend? Fun times two. I’m very good at math.
Of all the hilarious experiences I’ve had with Meghan, and there were many, I think this one takes the cake.
One perfectly crisp autumn morning, we dragged our husbands to a fall festival. As a word of caution, if you choose to visit a pumpkin patch while hugely pregnant, you will get interrogated by at least 50% of the people there who think they’re being funny by asking if you’re smuggling out a pumpkin. I think this year, I actually will smuggle out a pumpkin in my shirt and people will just assume I’m pregnant. Joke’s on all of you, plus hey, free pumpkin.
Baby or pumpkin? You'll never know. mwah hah hah
This festival was so complex, it even had one of those tin trains for kids to ride in. You know what I’m talking about—the fantastically old metal ones with cars that look like giant empty soup cans turned on their sides.
Now imagine two full-grown (and fully-pregnant) women squeezing themselves into those little soup-can cars. It was not our wisest decision, but the train was practically empty, so Meghan and I asked if we could ride. The guy driving the rig replied that if we could get into the car, he’d take us around. So, we rode.
Hey, where’d my legs go??
It was sheer bliss, feeling the wind in our faces and the sun on our backs. Like heaven really. But, then it stopped and we had to get out. Only, we couldn’t.
Here are three things to keep in mind if you're ever considering going for this type of a train ride:
1. Soup-can cars are intended for children.
2. Soup-can cars are made of metal and aren’t at all flexible, so if you get stuck, you’re really stuck.
3. If you decide to ride in one despite my other points, at least remember not to wear slippery maternity jeans.
It took me a good several minutes to contort my way out of that thing. Thank goodness for prenatal yoga. In my own agony, I completely failed to remember how Meghan’s legs are significantly longer than mine and how her belly was a couple of months ahead of mine. Upon my escape, I found Meghan completely wedged into her soup can, not able to move an inch one way or the other.
To add to the scene, we emoted so much joy during our ride that several children ran up to wait for the next ride. So, the entire train quickly filled with eager children—except for one poor little kid who couldn't find an open seat because Meghan was stuck on the train.
Before long, an entire crowd had gathered around to see this fully pregnant woman jammed into the car. She should have gotten paid because clearly she had become the festival's main attraction. The more she tried to free herself, the more stuck she became. Our husbands got on either side of her and tried hoisting her up by her arms. Still no movement.
Like a true soldier, she hollered bravely to the driver, "Just start driving these poor kids around. I'll figure something out!" But, the mom of the boy without a seat would have none of that. Her son needed that soup can car emptied for him ASAP.
I was a terrible sister. I stood right next to her car and laughed my head off. I couldn't help it.
I laughed when the guy standing behind us said, "Welp, looks like you bought yourselves a new train!" I laughed when the moms of all the kids waiting for the ride to start crossed their arms impatiently and sighed louder than needed. I laughed when I pictured Meghan getting pulled out of that thing with the Jaws of Life. I laughed when the driver did absolutely nothing, because he knew it was a lost cause, and plus it was giving a bit of entertainment to his otherwise boring work day. Shoot, I'm even laughing out loud right now as I'm writing this.
After a solid twenty minutes, and by some autumn miracle, Meghan finally freed herself from the terrible grasp of the soup can car. In the process, her stretchy maternity pants slipped down to a level that would embarrass even a high schooler used to wearing his jeans hanging off his butt. Her supportive husband's only comment was, "Don't worry, sweetie. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one you mooned." It was fantastic.
Her only battle wounds (other than a battered ego) were some fantastic bruises on her knees. At her next OB appointment, her doctors saw the bruises and immediately sounded the alarms to check Meghan’s iron levels. Meghan just nodded and looked at the floor. She didn't have the guts to tell them that even the most iron-rich person in the world couldn't get out of that predicament without purpling up a little bit.
Like what you see? Check out my quirky memoir about finding your path in life.
I'D RATHER WEAR PAJAMAS