As I sit and write this blog to be published on Tuesday, I shake my head in disbelief. Today is Sunday. Three interesting things happened this weekend. Important things. As such, it is my responsibility to inform the 12 people who read my naturally infectious blog about these majorly important things you must NEVER do.
So, this weekend I made plans. Insert a gasp here because I haven't made plans since before I peed on a stick. Cancelled plans, yes. Made and carried out plans...no. Oh, the joys of be pregnant and wondering where the hell your energy disappeared to. It was all very simple. On Saturday, I was taking the girls to Home Depot for the kids craft and then on to the park. Then, on Sunday, I was taking the girls to the 9am service at church. I have to specify the service because I haven't made it to the 9am service since long before Siobhan was born in September. Well, during these outings, something happened that should never happen.
Thing 1: Unsolicited advice
Dori, Siobhan, and I went to Home Depot first thing in the morning to do her craft. I chose to carry Siobhan because there were no chairs and I didn't want to lug around her infant carrier (and I'm not a baby wearer but props to those who are). We picked up her package and as we turned to go, the lady handing them out said, "Your mom must not live here." I took the bait and asked why. "Cause she would never let out take that baby out without a blanket."
...
Excuse me? Are you serious? I'M OVER 30 YEARS OLD! (I'm pretty sure I'm 31 but I'm too tired right now to do the math and to afraid I might be 32.) I looked at the lady, down at my baby, and back to the lady. My grandma always said whatever the hell was on her mind but she taught me to mind my elders so I smiled and moved along. But in my head I'm screaming about how I didn't ask her advice! AND it was 72 degrees out. We were all dressed in long sleeves and pants because it was still chilly in the shade. What the *($% do I need a blanket for? I didn't ask or want your advice so please shut your pie hole!
Thing 2: Ask to hold a stranger's baby
So smile in place, Dori and I started working on her craft. Well, Dori was working. I was praying that she didn't hammer a finger or skewer her hand with a nail. As I'm standing there encouraging my daughter to read the directions and helping her when she gets stuck, I hear, "Oh she's so pretty!" I look up to say a quick, polite thanks and see this woman with her arms/hands outstretched, reaching for my baby. She says, "Can I hold her?" and I politely say, "No, she has not had her shots yet."
...
WTF! Who the hell reaches for a STRANGER'S baby and then asks to hold them? What crazy farm were you born on?! I don't know you from a hole in the wall!
Don't get me wrong. Siobhan has been held by many people, including one that I didn't approve because her godmother was a little too excited. I have no problem handing my eight pound, high power lunged bundle of joy over....to people I know. But when you start walking up to randoms asking to hold their kid I think you are crazy. And NO. You can't hold my kid.
Thing 3: Tell them you didn't know...they were pregnant!
So, fast forward to Sunday. I am so proud to get to church on time! I sit through a moving, inspirational service and as I'm leaving I stop and chat. Two ladies I am familiar with come up to ooh and aah over Siobhan. Before they leave, they drop this bomb: I didn't even know you were pregnant!
Really? Gee, thanks.
Look. I know I'm not supermodel material. I've got more stripes on my stomach than a zebra and now jiggle in places that were formerly non-jiggleable. But as jiggly as I'm am and as heavy as I am, you could tell I was pregnant! And if you couldn't I don't want to know about it. I'm not saying lie to me about how great I looked. I mean, yeah. I gained weight. I know this. Even my toes got fat. All I'm asking is that you don't make my damn near 40 lb addition seem like the norm. Just say nothing.
I can't believe all three things happened in one weekend, but hey. I'll get over it. Except Thing 1. The next person who gives me unsolicited parenting advice is getting a kick to the knee. Then they can go tell a friend what my mother should have done about my temper.
Follow me on Twitter! @JackieMichele
Oh yeah! I'm 31!
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