False labor.  That's right.  Just like drinking and dancing lead to sex, cocktail playdates lead to false labor.

And WHY do cocktail playdates lead to false labor?  Because that's exactly what a 38 week pregnant woman who has a sip of alcohol deserves for a) even THINKING about drinking during pregnancy and b) committing the heinous and practically felonious act of serving alcohol in front of the kids. 

I blame it on Becca.  I mean, Becca has been reading this blog since back in the Cookie days, I don't think she has ever commented once and suddenly she is COMMENTING on the cocktail playdate post.  Not just commenting, but leaving a 5 line comment.  All the day before she was coming to my house after having only seen her once in the last 3 years.  My girl NEEDED a cocktail.

Then there was Jennifer.  She had never actually had a cocktail playdate and had suffered through a Gymboree bitch session where during the rehash of the Today show piece, the crowd seemed to get quite riled up at the evililty of the concept of the cocktail playdate.  It was my duty to show her that the dark side was not so dark.  I mean, I made tiny little red ruby martinis and it took us 4 hours to finish. 

Jennifer:  You are having one too?
K:  Not just yeah, but HELL YEAH. 

Maybe they were 90% pomagranate juice, but the wickedness felt inspiring.

But then the contractions started. 

K:  I'm fine.  I'm fine.
D:  See.  This is where cocktail playdates end up.  Wait until Meredith Viera hears about this one. 
K:  Are we telling her?  Ow.  I don't remember them hurting last time.
D:  WHAT????
K:  I'm fine. 
Jennifer:  Whose got the clock?
Stephanie:  You are NOT having another one.  You just had one.
K:  I'm fine.
D:  Call your sister.

No answer.   No answer again.  You definitely get what you pay for for THIS doula.

K:  She isn't there.
D:  Keep calling her.
K:  I'm FINE.  Steph, what time is it?
Steph:  You CAN"T be having another.  It's only been 4 minutes.
K:  OK.  I can't be having another.  I'm FINE.

So I call the OTHER doula/other sister.

Pache:  Shut up, she's not answering the phone.  That'll teach her.  Do you want me to come now?
K:  NO!!!!  I'm fine.  I just want to know what's going on since this is so different from last time. 
Pache:  I'm coming.  Are they closer than 15 minutes apart?
K:  NO!!!!  Don't come.  And they are 5 minutes apart.
Pache:  Jen would be so pissed. 
K:  I'll call you back.  I"m sure they are going to stop.

Ring.

J:  What's up?
K:  What made you call back?  Seeing the 6 missed calls on your cell?
J:  You are VERY chipper. 
K:  That's what I told everyone here but they are FREAKING OUT.  Where the hell were you?
J:  The neighbors decided to conduct marital therapy intervention because they were tired of me and Dave fighting this weekend so we have spent the last 2 hours next door on the Wii, doing karaoke to Whitney Houston's (insert singing) "and IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, will always love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!" 
K:  I don't think I'm in labor but everyone else is worried.  I just wanted to tell you to go to bed now in case we had to wake you up in the middle of the night with REAL labor.
J:  OK, and I'll stop drinking now.

Or make me one.  

It didn't take long for my horrible mother Karma to catch up with me.  That'll teach me.

Ah, probably not.