Thoughts From Mike 3: Beyond Thunderdome

Heather really hasn't had that many cravings during this pregnancy, that is as long as you exclude the time she woke at three in the morning and, in a Pavlovian response to a KFC commercial playing on our TV, insisted that she absolutely HAD to have their mashed potatoes right then and there. Tonight, however, she had a craving for McDonald's french fries, so I went on a walk down the block to McDonalds. McDonalds is a weird place at... Oh crap. As I write this the very same commercial that spurred H's mashed potatoes craving has come on the flatscreen. Let me look over at H. She hasn't noticed. She's reading an email. Thank you to whoever sent it. Let's see. The commercial is almost over...Heather is still looking at the computer...and we are clear. Hmm. That was weird. I think I will change topics lest I want to challenge the fates to inspire Heather to send me on another craving run.

Speaking of challenging the fates, tomorrow night is a big one for that. Let me explain. Ever since Heather was put on bedrest sometime back in the mid eighties my role in life has been to take care of her. When she was at home I would cook, clean, give massages, sit through endless episodes of television shows that no man should ever sit through, and, with the exception of the time I accidentally shredded my thumb instead of cheese, all went well. I bring this up not to be seen as a martyr -- and it should be noted that I did get some breaks thanks to H’s mom, Linda, as well as Brianne and Leah -- but because tomorrow I am going to have the ultimate break from all of this madness. Tomorrow, at the new Nokia Theater in downtown LA, I will sit in the tenth row to see Neil Young live and in concert! Oh, but the fun doesn't stop there, kids. Right next door at the Staples Center my beloved Golden State Warriors will be playing the Clippers, and I will see that too! You may be wondering how that is possible. Well, listen and learn, mi amigos. Tip-off is at 7:30, but Shakey doesn't take the stage until nine, so I will watch the first half of the game, then run over to Nokia for the concert. I will likely eat some incredibly decadent hot dog as well, and all in all it should be just about Mike Spohr heaven. In the back of my mind though I worry about those fates, because if they have a sick sense of humor they will make something happen with H tomorrow. I realize the birth of your first child is an amazing and transcendent experience, but it just seems to me that it would be even more amazing and transcendent on a night that I don't have tickets to the Warriors and Neil Young.


The other thing I did today was bring Rigby to the hospital to give to Linda so that she could take her back to Newbury Park for the next few days. In making the exchange, it was decided that we would do it on the corner of 23rd and Arizona, so that H could stand in the window (just for a moment mind you, then back to bed) so that she could see Rigby. I called when I arrived and we talked on our cells as she peered down at me and Rigby. Poor Heather. You could tell she was really happy to see her pup. At one point Rigby squatted to do her business and H said with a catch in her throat, "Aww. She's pooing." I'm pretty sure Rigby's defecating has never moved Heather to tears before. When I got up to the room I told Heather to be strong and that before long she will be home with me, Rigby, AND a beautiful baby, and that then all of this will have been worth it.