As I mentioned in my last post, Sarah and I had our final lamaze class on Thursday. Apparently we are ready to be parents. Well, at least we’re as close to ready as we’ll be.

Anyway, something funny happened during our last class. We were going to do some role playing to learn about c-sections, and our instructor went around to each person, handing him or her a job description. There were nurses and doctors, all with technical job titles that I cannot recall. We were the last couple to receive a “job.”

I heard Kathy, the instructor, tell the couple before us, “I still need a mom. Oh, wait, I want you to have this one.”

So I leaned over to Sarah and said, smirking, “Ha, ha. You get to be the mom.”

Then Kathy handed me my name tag. The word on the card? “Mom.”

“Yep, that’s right,” Kathy said, handing Sarah the “Dad” tag.

With that, I was put into a surgery gown and was told to get up on the table in the center of the room.

“Will this table hold 200 pounds?,” I asked, hoping a scrawnier husband might need to take over my role.

“We’ll find out,” Kathy said, laughing.

Anyway, long story short. It was pretty nerve-wracking and embarrassing, but I played mom. I had the curtain blocking my business as Kathy described what happens during a c-section. Fun stuff.

Continuing the role reversal, at the end of class all the fathers got to try on a 50-pound sympathy belly (much like this guy, who is more daring than me, because I refuse to post the available evidence online). It had a belly and, um, some chesty lady parts. That thing was heavy. I don’t envy Sarah for lugging our son around for the next two and a half weeks (yes, that’s all the time that’s left!).