Did you ever order something really, really cool from Amazon or even Mac? Like a computer or iPod or something possibly radder even than that? The days you spend waiting for it to arrive are agony. Will it get here on time if it's a birthday gift? Will you ever survive the suspense as you await the rumble of that diesel engine, the UPS truck barreling up your narrow street? If you work from home like me, maybe you wait next to the door for Peggy to mount your porch steps, leaning a little sideways from the heaviness of what can only be your package?
The last time this happened to Corey was a few weeks ago, when he called every 6 minutes to see if his Netbook had arrived. For me, it was senior year of college when Harry Potter 5 came in the mail and I sat on my stoop just waiting and waiting for the mailman.
The delivery dates these companies promise are etched in stone. You pay for certain delivery days, for the sure thing of their arrival. When the day comes, you know your package will show up like you know your water bill will come or your newspaper.
Yeah, it's not like that with babies. Only it feels like it SHOULD be that way. Like I was promised a human child on a specific date and all I have is the email that it's at the distribution center in Stuebenville.
You know what I want more than a Netbook or Harry Potter 5? A damn baby. My baby. I want the crying and the pooping and the little ears and the nose that may or may not be shaped like mine. I paid my shipping and handling in many ways. I gestated for 280 days. Now give me my baby, please. Or I'll give you a no-stars review on your website. Plus I might call customer service and complain.