Filtered and Non-Filtered Conversation

While in line at the cafe at work today:

Woman: Wow, look at you – you’re ready to pop! When are you due?

Me: Yesterday.

Woman: Oh, that must be awful to be past due! Are you in a lot of pain?

Me: (trying to avoid this conversation) I’m a little sore, but it’s not bad.

Woman: Well, what are you waiting for? Why not cut that baby out and get it over with?

Me: *blink blink*

Possible responses that flash by in my head:

Gee, I’m not so fond of major abdominal surgery.

Yeah, damn that little brat for being one day past the arbitrary date set by a calendar! I’ll show her who’s in charge!

My doctor has advised me not to take advice from idiot strangers with no medical background.

Huh, why didn’t I think of that? Got a knife?

Tried that once – not for me.

It’s a baby, not a tumor to be cut out at will.

Oh, that useless brain in your head must be awful! Why not just cut it out and get it over with?

What I actually say:

Me: (resisting urge to lecture on the complication risks of elective c-sections) She’ll come when she’s ready.

Sometimes I hate that little filter between my brain and mouth, especially when dealing with people who clearly have no filter. I mean, really – who asks something like that?

I think at this point I’d rather wear a shirt that says, “Just awkwardly fat, not pregnant” to avoid these types of conversations.



And A Stroke Is Just A Headache

Actually seen on a labor and childbirth message board:

I’m 38 weeks and just took a Tylenol for a headache, but now I’m worried. What if I go into labor and can’t feel it? Could the Tylenol keep me from knowing if I go into labor?

Now, I’ll admit up front that I’ve never gone through labor, so I don’t have full knowledge of the pain involved. But if a Tylenol can completely mask the pain of labor, then pregnant women everywhere would be screaming out for Tylenol instead of epidurals, and drug dealers would be selling Tylenol dime bags just outside the hospital and OB offices.



The Big Secret

Last week in a doctor’s waiting room:

Woman: Oh, look at you! Not much longer, is it?

Me: Only a few more weeks.

Woman: Boy or girl?

Me: Girl

Woman: So, what will her name be?

Me: We don’t have a name yet.

Woman: Oh, honey, you can tell me.

Me: No, seriously, we don’t have a name picked out yet.

Woman: (laughing and giving me a knowing smile) Oh, I get it. The name is a secret, eh?

Me: (sighing) Yes. Yes, the name is so secret, even my husband and I don’t know it.

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Seriously, people take it as a personal insult if you won’t tell them your unborn child’s name. I had no idea people listed this among their rights when encountering a pregnant woman. (You know, right up there with touching the belly and asking if it was planned.)

But the truth is we still have no name. Nothing sounds right for this girl. I think we were close to a name a few weeks ago, but then as soon as we told relatives, they started suggesting nicknames that made me cringe, and completely drove me away from the name:

“Miranda? So we’ll have a Randy in the family?”
“Ack! No!”
“What about Randa then? That’s a nice name.”
“No way. Never mind, I’ve changed my mind – we’re not using that name.”

The fastest way to drive me away from a name is to suggest bad nicknames.

So now my nose is buried in baby name books again, looking for anything else that might be a suitable name. I’ve spent so much time staring at lists of names that I think I’m starting to go a little insane. After reading through so many names, my eyes begin to cross, my brain melts a little, and I start to think most names sound pretty good.

Proof? Today I was reading through a list of names that have never been on the SSA’s top 1000 most popular lists and thought to myself, “Lysistrata – now that’s a pretty name you don’t hear very often.” WTF?

Any minute now, the name police will show up and tell me to slowly step away from the baby name book and have a rest before this baby is scarred for life with an unfortunate name.



I’m Not Sorry My Child’s Presence Bothers You

I know there are people in the world who are simply not interested in children and don’t like being around them. I can understand – kids can be a real handful and honestly, pretty annoying at times. But there are times when I am amazed that people can be so anti-child, especially with nothing provoking the response.

Today we were out at the mall, and decided to stop for lunch. We got our table, and Cordy was, at that moment, not interested in sitting down to eat. She cried for a couple of minutes, until we could settle in and find something to distract her. A banana did the trick, followed by crayons and paper to draw on. There was only one other occupied table in our area – a college-aged woman and an older woman. At one point while Cordy was crying, I made eye contact with the younger woman, who gave me a smile of understanding.

Only a few minutes later, all was happy and peaceful at our table. Cordy had a cup of milk to drink, and was spending her time coloring while Aaron and I chatted.

Five minutes later, the hostess comes by with an older couple, and tries to seat them at the table across from us. The woman quickly stops her and says, “No, we’d like somewhere more…quiet.” During that pause before the word “quiet” she turned around and glared at Cordy. The look could best be described as somewhere between I smell something bad and seething repulsion. The hostess offered to turn down the music in the restaurant before she understood the woman’s meaning and lead them to another section.

Aaron and I looked at each other and laughed. At the moment they came by, Cordy could have been the poster child for toddlers in public. She was quietly involved in coloring neatly on her paper, had her sippy cup of milk nearby without a drop spilling out of it, and the floor beneath her held no missing crayons, crumbs or other items from the tabletop. Not a sound was coming from her. I can only guess that this woman assumed that all children are loud and obnoxious, and fully expected Cordy to change into a screaming, food-throwing monster as soon as they sat down across from us.

(Or maybe she reads my blog and knows the tantrums Cordy is capable of? Nah, she didn’t look like the mommyblog-reading type.)

Did I point out that this is a family restaurant? As in, there is a large emphasis placed on children being there, with interesting knick-knacks on the walls, and an awesome kids menu coloring book. If the woman didn’t want to be around children, this was not the place to eat.

While we ate, several other families were seated, many with children. As we left, we looked around at the restaurant full of children and wondered where they managed to seat that couple that didn’t have kids around? We guessed they were next to the kitchen.

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Have you been over to my reviews blog lately? I have a new review posted about the book, Good Kids Bad Habits. If you’re looking for ways to get your kids to eat better, get more exercise, or take better care of themselves, you should check it out!



A Quick Note To My Neighbors

Did you all miss the news where the governor of Ohio said we should all help our neighbors out during this snow storm?

Clearly you saw your very pregnant neighbor early this afternoon, trying to clear her car of the snow and ice. I know because I saw you looking out the window. Plus, it was hard to miss hearing your kid pounding on the window at me, as if I was an animal in the zoo, when I fell on my butt on the uneven, icy ground. It’s OK, I really didn’t need the help, even after I fell a second time, and was clearly struggling to keep my footing.

Of course, two hours later, when I was trying to go to work, not only did you watch out your window as I got stuck in the snow plow wake in the street, but apparently other neighbors also joined in to watch as well. You watched as I tried to dig my car out of a rut with only a long-handled ice scraper, huffing and puffing, not offering your able-bodied self as I repeated my attempt to leave, then dig out, then attempt to leave, several times over. I’m glad I could provide some mid-afternoon entertainment for your family.

Special thanks to the neighbors across the street: I noticed you peek out your window to see what all the noise was, but I guess you couldn’t bother to help. Especially with your freakin’ snow blower.

And to the neighbor who drove right past me, on the plowed side of the street: thanks for that little wave, and for narrowly missing me with your car, but I really would have preferred it if you stopped to give me a push. Guess you were too busy trying to get to some important destination, and had no time to lend your strength to a pregnant woman who was clearly having trouble standing up on the ice and snow, much less digging in it with an ice scraper.

Bastards.