What you need to do is ...

Somewhere around the fifth trip through J.C. Penney it hits me: We could really use some new living room blinds. Wait, no! All this stupid walking starts to mess with your brain after a while. What I meant to say is, all these labor-inducing tricks don't seem to be working.

And it's not just doing laps around the mall. My very pregnant wife and I have tried everything. Watching funny movies, walking up and down stairs, eating spicy foods, heck, she even drank a quart of motor oil the other day. Or was it castor oil?

Eh, details. Anyway, the point is that everybody has their own "fool-proof" methods, some crazier than others, for bringing on labor.

For instance, in the past week alone we have been told to go dancing, take herbal supplements, eat the eggplant Parmesan at some random Georgia restaurant, drink Tabasco, drive up and down a cobblestone street, watch the "Dick Van Dyke Show," go bungee jumping.

You name it, it's been suggested. One person even joked: "Do you have an electrical socket handy? Kids seem to be attracted to those things."

And the sad part is, we're still willing to try most of them. That's because we really want this guy to make his debut appearance sometime soon.

Granted that doesn't seem very likely, seeing as neither my wife nor I were anywhere close to being born on our due dates (we were both 10 days late). Couple that with the fact that we're both slow writers and it was practically inevitable that he was going to miss deadline.

All of which leads to an all-too-familiar scenario:

(Phone rings. I look at the caller ID and see it's my dad.)

ME: "Hey, Dad."

DAD: "Anything happen yet?"

ME: "No, Dad."

DAD: "Nothing?"

ME: "Oh, wait. I forgot. We had a baby."

DAD: "YOU DID?!"

ME: "No, Dad."

DAD: (Silence.) "Well you don't have to be a jerk about it."

And this continues Every. Single. Day.

Since the due date passed (it was a week ago), friends and loved ones wanting to know the latest status of our delinquent child call or text virtually every day. And our answer is always the same: "Nope. Still nothing. But we'll let you know just as soon as something does."

But every time I think I've reached my breaking point, I look at my wife, who has been a real pro, a complete champ through this entire process, and I think to myself, "Is she really eating another cupcake?"

Just kidding.

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I think: If she can stay positive, upbeat and smiling while carrying around this freakish Sasquatch child in her belly for 41 weeks, I certainly should be able to do the same (be upbeat that is, not carry a Sasquatch child in my belly).

So I draw on her strength and remind myself how blessed and fortunate we are to have so many people who care about us.

Sure, it's going to make spreading the news that much more time consuming when he finally arrives, but you know what, that's a good problem to have.

Another good thing to have? Voicemail.

Because I know my dad's going to call again tomorrow.

Bryce Donovan also writes a Thursday column in Charleston Scene as well as a Saturday People column. Reach him at 937-5938 or bdonovan@postandcourier.com.