The Laborious Task of Becoming An Uncle (Pt. 1)

The following is a chronological report of my crucial role in the events that lead up to and beyond the birth of my niece on June 21st, 2011. My recapturing of the names, locations and the events themselves may not be factual due to my lack of a legal defense team and the widely-reported accumulating effects of alcohol on the human brain.

Monday 6/20 8:52am: I am awakened by my emergency ringtone (Lil Wayne's 'How To Love', you'd be amazed how quickly a 250lb guy can move to shut that dude off) on my cell phone that the baby is to be induced that day. Having no knowledge of how a baby is induced I can only assume it involves the mother eating Taco Bell and placing a portable DVD player with Dora the Explorer on directly outside the vagina. I will learn later this is not correct. Regardless, I am up, dressed and clearing minimal social hygiene requirement in under 7 minutes. I join the parents on a furious 27 mph drive through downtown Pittsburgh during morning rush hour traffic. The windows are down and the breeze blows through my luxurious hair. It's a good day to become an uncle.

Monday 6/20 10:41am: I am situated at the hospital with enough personal entertainment technology to launch the space shuttle. My iPod is playing the soothing tones of my Poetic Musings of Ice Cube playlist while I engage in my usual narcissism by taking various self-portrait pics with my cell phone camera in various poses of baby-waiting. I have been rebuffed in my attempts to engage the hospital staff in an animated discussion of why Scrubs is infinitely better than Grey's Anatomy and curtly informed that one more attempt to coerce a nurse into assisting me with my Elliot fantasy will result in my removal from the hospital. I suggest to my sister-in-law that perhaps her child should not be born into such a hostile environment. I can only assume her soul-piercing glare was because she was trying to go to the bathroom at the time.

Monday 6:20 12:20 pm: Informed that the baby will not be arriving in the next 30 minutes due to information gleaned from mumbo jumbo like "centimeters dilated" and "contraction frequency" I think lunch is in order. As you would expect in a hospital I find the cafeteria offering a wide range of health conscious foods and I eagerly peruse the open food cases before joining the lengthy line at the grill for cheeseburgers and Philly cheesesteaks. The cafeteria 'chef', clearly working his way through higher education, confuses my order 3 times with that of the 60 year old black woman next to me. We repeatedly glance at each other to see if we can grasp the resemblance between us but the looks only gradually become intense stares until we find ourselves locked in a passionate kiss and embrace that defies age and ethnicity.

Monday 6/20 6:47 pm: My hospital wanderings are limited by my conspicuous size and inability to bypass the high-tech security measures around the MRI machines and the cafeteria kitchen. After being informed for the 4th time that my unshaven face and dimwitted expression is 'scaring the newborn children' I pack up my remaining dignity and settle into the common waiting area with everyone else who serves no purpose in the birth of a relative's child. An argument quickly ensues over the television viewing selection when I compare watching Dr. Phil for life help to listening to Lebron James expound on how to be a champion. I decide that after almost 7 hours I should probably check on whether or not my brother is a father and the nurse takes exception to my use of the phrase 'vaginal developments'. Still no baby.

Monday 6/20 9:58 pm: Having been assured Operation: Baby will not commence immediately, I return home after a long day of strenuous waiting, music listening, eBook reading (I have the entire Twilight series on my Amazon Kindle, Team Jacob over that glittery pretty boy all the way), hospital staff harassing, cheesesteak inhaling, Dr. Phil bashing and periodic walking. I'm finally starting to understand why you womenfolk have been complaining about the pain of childbirth all this time: I'm exhausted and my butt is sore from sitting. I may start watching baby related shows and movies on the Oxygen network with my newfound empathy if I can find any scheduled between the domestic abuse survival themed shows. With a child being born into the family I am just now beginning to feel the pangs of losing Oprah. I've never been an uncle and I could really use her advice right about now. To relax from my stressful day I navigate through pornographic websites for a few hours until I'm ready to fall asleep. I say a prayer for my sister-in-law, my brother (whose own contributions to this whole process I refuse to heap praise upon him for), my family and my soon-to-be-born niece. Tomorrow promises to be an amazing day in my life. I cuddle close with my stuffed monkey life-partner and slip off into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness...

      (this is where we in the business manipulate your natural curiosity to hear the ending to even the most irrelevant stories by using the phrase, TO BE CONTINUED...)