The Meaning Of Sugar Waffles**

It wasn’t your average fall weather. The temperature spilled over 77 degrees. What made the day so unbearable was the elevated humidity of nearly one hundred percent. I’m sure walking outdoors felt as if you were suddenly trapped inside a sauna. The air would be so dense it would make you choke on each breath taken. The sun blazing with all its might, laughing at the sight of sunglasses, because that would certainly be no challenge.

It was miserable day that celebrated to the fullest. Monday, September 26th, 1988 was the opening day of the 137th annual "Little State Fair." The Brown County Fair is only out staged by The Ohio State Fair. All other county fairs parish in it’s glory. No one really knows what attracts the flocks of comers and goers. Some say the food, the rides, others say the heated events like the derby and truck and tractor pulls. It could be that it has just become a tradition-you go because your dad went, and his dad went, and your great granddad went. It must be encoded in a person’s DNA to love the fair.

This was the year my mom not only got a season ticket, but a lifetime membership to motherhood of three. Yep, I’m a fair baby! That maybe the reason I get so giddy when September rolls around every year. I was born during fair mania, and it seems to have stuck with me.

She went to her normal doctor’s appointment around 10:30 in the morning. The doctor checked her out and claimed she had to make an important decision. My mom was relieved to hear she only had to choose whether she wanted to go home or straight to the hospital to await her new arrival. Of course, my mom goes home, saying she needs to clean her house. That is probably how I got my desire for nothing more than superb cleanliness. The doctor explained to her that she was one centimeter dilated, and that if she goes home he would surely see her soon after. My mom simply smiled and explained again that she just had things to do. She went home disregarding the doctors wishes, which is most likely where I inherit my stubborn ways from. She did all her chores that couldn’t wait another second to be tended to. And the she would tell you that around one o’clock in the afternoon she started having severe contractions. It was finally time to go!

They rushed to the car. Along the way they made two quick pit stops. The first was to pick up my Aunt Jackie. My mom would start laughing at this point in the story, claiming that she had to have Jackie go to keep my dad together, "you know because he was just so nervous!" The second was to Western Brown school. My mom refused to go on to the hospital until her other two children knew it was time! My dad ran into the school, straight to the office. My sister, Melisha, was yanked from her lunch table and sent directly to the office. She thought her mom had already had the baby, and someone was going to tell her whether she had a sister or a brother. She never dreamed that her mother would causually stop by in the midst of her labor, just to say it was time! This would be the point where my sister would let out a giggle or two. She would say that Dad was a nervous wreck! It was a quick visit just to say it’s time and Melisha was soon on her way back to the lunch room. On her arrival I became the talk of the 5th grade lunch tables.

My mom reached the Brown County General Hospital around 1:30, give or take a few minutes. The hospital is one of the biggest employers in the whole county. On this particular day, I’m sure everyone involved was thankful for all the help. After checking my mom, a nurse frantically screams while running out the door,

"Call the doctor now! This one’s coming fast!"

There were already five other ladies in the labor room. A round-faced Nurse Pat wobbles in to the delivery room and declares a proposal,

"Whoever has their baby first! Well…I’m going to go get them a sugar waffle from the fair tomorrow! C’mon ladies who will be?"

My mom being as confident as she is, replied that it would probably be her and that she would not forget about that sugar waffle. Nurse Pat chuckled and reminded my mom that she had just arrived, she probably has hours to go.

There was barely enough time to prep, let alone get an epidural. Out of pain my mom was constantly scolding my dad with these words "this is all your fault!" As she squeezed his hand which was no comparison to the pain she was currently feeling. His eyes teared up, maybe from the discomfort of his hand, or maybe out of sympathy. It took all he had to mutter a few apologies. Dr. Partridge hardly had time to get to the delivery room. As soon as a nurse saw her, she was grabbed and whisked away to my mom’s bedside.

The next thing my mom says she remembers is Dr. Partridge saying that I was here! I let out a scream loud enough to show the world who’s really boss. The doctor looked at my dad and asked if he wanted to cut the cord. My dad was still shaken up, he glanced at mom and whispered a soft I love you. He turned to face the doctor and said "I guess." My mom would tell you that that was the most important part. In fifteen minutes my mom sealed the deal, she had her baby girl and got that sugar waffle.

To this day she gets a sugar waffle during fair week. When I was old enough to not only understand the story of my birth, but to go alone, I started getting the sugar waffles for her. I do not just get one though, I get a whole bag full. I guess it’s my way of showing appreciation for the gift of life. If you ever see me waiting in the lengthy line at the sugar waffle shack, I’ll be just as rushed as I was on September 26th, 1988. I have limited patience, and sometimes I even have to raise my voice to remind the world of who’s boss.