Monday, January 12, 2009

Are you there God? It's me, Clueless.

How quickly I forget.

When I was pregnant with both boys, the following questions or comments would drive me into a silent (or sometimes, not-so-silent) rage. I've edited my imaginary responses, because my mom reads this blog, and she has never, ever heard me say the f-word (okay, that's a total lie, but still...):

1. How much bigger are you going to get? (Unspoken response: How much stupider are you going to get?)

2. Are you still pregnant? (Unspoken answer: Do you see me holding a baby? What the hell do you think?)

3. How much longer do you have? (Unspoken answer: It doesn't matter...too long.)

4. If you think you're tired now, just wait... (Unspoken answer: Shut up, ****face. I have never, ever felt so tired in my entire life. Why do you think that telling me how I'll be EVEN MORE TIRED is helpful?)

5. When do you plan on losing the baby weight? (Unspoken answer: As soon as you lose yours. Can't I just enjoy being fat for once?)

6. Are you nervous about labor? (Unspoken answer: No, not at all, ass. Why would I be nervous about pain, hospitals, and unpleasantness down there?)

7. Are you disappointed that you're having a boy? (Unspoken answer: What, you think you're better than me because you have a girl?)

8. Wow, you're just a baby factory, aren't you? (Unspoken answer: Yes, two children in three years. I'm just like Ma Duggar.)

I'm a little hostile when I'm pregnant.

So, today, in the store, I see an acquaintance. We've met at various Mommy & Me functions (park, library, etc). We're not super-close or anything. She's due any day now. Our conversation goes like this:

Me: Hey, you're still pregnant (Ding!)
Her: Yes.
Me: I bet you're soooo tired. (Ding!)
Her: I'm ready to be done.
Me: Are you nervous about labor? (Ding!)
Her: A little bit.
Me: I bet you're glad you're having a girl this time. (Ding!)
Her: We're excited.
Me: Wow, your kids are going to be so close in age. (Ding!)
Her: Yes, I'll see you later.

I'm an idiot. On behalf of the sisterhood of the angry ovaries, I apologize. I'll try to do a better job.

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