And... Exhale.

Lamaze class is over and we are now ready for labor, whenever it begins.

I realize that this little tirade I'm about to go on is selfish. I realize that I sometimes let little things bother me. Mrs. Undaground knew what she was getting into, and may very well be carrying another human being with similar hang-ups as me.

To review, our Lamaze class supposedly runs from 7 to 9pm. The first week, we were held there until about 9:45. The second session ended on time without incident. Last night, about 5 minutes after the clock struck nine, our teacher said something like this:

"OK. Hmmm. What time is it?" (looks up at large clock on the wall).

I looked at Mrs. Undaground. "I think she's gonna let us go. It's over."

The teacher looked away from the clock, as if it burned her eyes. "Alright. I want everybody to get into a nice, relaxed mode now. Cuddle up and get comfortable. There's a relaxation CD I want to play for you called 'Childbirth Relaxation'. Everybody just focus on relaxing. Dads too."

How dare she! What a slap in the face. Are you kidding me? I will not relax. I am fixated on the fact that you are keeping us past our agreed-upon class time. Unless this CD is two-minutes long, I'm not feeling it lady!

The CD began with a song about welcoming a baby to the world. Despite the sweet words and music flowing through the room, I began to think about things the teacher could have done to make me less-relaxed:

• Placed a live cougar in the middle of the room and strung a rope of meat around my neck.
• Lit my foot on fire.
• Told me she was going to steal our minivan and headed out of the room.
• Throw darts at us.
• Play some of those Jetta commercials where the people get in sudden car crashes.
• Give me a hand-massage in front of the entire class. (Oh never mind, she already did that at 8:45)

After the song was over, a woman's voice came on the CD. She began by describing the feet and telling us to relax our feet. Then she described the ankles and told us to relax our ankles. Each body part was taking about two to three minutes to describe. Tapping into my own basic knowledge of human anatomy, I realized that this was not going to end any time soon. I looked at Mrs. Undaground, who knew we were living on borrowed time. "I'm going to the bathroom."

I walked into the bathroom and just stood there. The room was so freaking quiet at this point with people "relaxing" that I knew I couldn't pee. I knew from sitting next to the bathroom for three weeks that it's possible to hear every thing that goes on in there. Why put on a show for these people? I knew that any sound I made in the bathroom would be background music for this woman's soothing voice.

Knees, thighs, buttocks. She kept slowly moving up the body.

I washed my hands for no particular reason and returned to my chair. You know, we may have been able to relax had this happened at 8:30. I looked at my watch again. 9:20 now. I looked up at the teacher. Is she sleeping? What the hell? Mrs. Undaground was pretending she was relaxed but really she was just trying to keep me from making a scene.

The CD continued, "Feel your elbows. Imagine your elbows are pointy pillows. Now pretend your elbows are dripping candles. Feel as the wax of your elbows drips down onto the microfiber couch that is your lap. Now your elbows are floating. You're doing a relaxing chicken dance. Feel your elbows flap and flow and relax. Breathe. Now think of your elbows as fuzzy little bunnies on a bed of lime jello......."

Then, it happened. Out of the corner of my eye. I saw another couple gather their belongings and slip out the door. And then there were 5. Five pathetic couples in the room.

Crap, we missed our chance. Now what? Do we follow the leaders like a couple of sheep?

Two minutes later, another couple began to stir. Maybe this was the lesson the teacher was trying to teach us. Maybe we're supposed to each gather the courage to get the hell out of there, much like we will gather the courage to leave the hospital. Sure, that sounds right.

Before the second couple got out the door, we made our move. We grabbed our pillows and pushed in our chairs with the quickness and precision of a military operation. We both waved through the darkness to our warden, like a couple of convicts making parole. I saw her flinch for a split second, as if she was going to chase us down and tackle us, forcing us to listen to more well-disguised torture. Then, she changed her mind, smiled and waved back. And just like that (poof) we were gone.

Then we went home and relaxed. Good riddance.