19 years ago today, I was in labor (eeeewwwww!). That’s right - on Christmas eve. I watched A Christmas Story 5 times. Johnny Mathis was the guest on Oprah (to this day, I cannot stand the sound of Johnny Mathis singing Christmas carols). I begged my husband to push me in front of a metro bus (he did not). Finally at 4:00 I convinced him to go get me a Jamocha Fudge milk shake from Baskin Robbins (he made it in right before they locked the door - very Indiana Jones, no fedora, just a blue cashmere sweater).
When the nurse put the IV in my arm, I bit my husbands wrist (because sharing is caring). When the anesthesiologist arrived and gave me the epidural, I told him that I’d take him to lunch one day soon (oh yeah, I forgot about that).
We watched Roseanne. When that was over we switched to PBS and watched Die Fledermaus (even before that night, it was always my favorite opera - I saw it at the Met with Siegfried Jerusalem - he was my crush before Christoph Waltz). My son Nicholas was born at 2 am on Christmas day - right in the middle of Act 2, (the party scene at Prince Orlovsky’s -Ich lade gern mir Gäste ein).
Although he is a Christmas baby, he was not named after St. Nicholas, but rather Nick Charles (The Thin Man - William Powell was my crush before Siegfried Jerusalem).
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