|Get it? GET IT? It’s my belly button!|
Since late 2011, right around the time I became
grotesquely pregnant with our 4th (see above), I have been telling, well, spit riddled screaming to the world that we are done popping out babies like a Pez dispenser. “Nope, 4 is great! We are done. D-O-N-E. DONE!” I tell random strangers, people I see out and about, grocery store cashiers, our trash collectors and my ovaries. I particularly pour on the panicked, high pitched insistence of our brownchickenbrowncow festivities being purely non-child creation focused to the eyebrow raised inquirers (insisters), “So, you’re done…right?” Those people, in particular, cause my inner people pleaser to jump triumphantly forth and ensure them that, “Yes, we are done!” When really, I want to say, “It’s none of your damn business! Why don’t you lower your brow before your face freezes that way!” Then I imagine kicking dirt on their freshly pressed white linen pants, giving them the full cross armed F U and speeding off in my minivan leaving them speechless, covered in peel out dirt and with a trail of Dodge fumes all up in their grill.
Instead, I match their smiling, eyebrow raised, not even hidden judgment with a saccharine, knowing look and judgment swallowing statement that confirms what they want to hear so that I can walk away and feel less like a giant, tower climbing, city destroying uterus. All I have to say to myself is, What the freakin’ WHAT? As my two year old so eloquently once said, “Why I do that?” .
I have no explanation for smiling and laughing at the
SEA HAG kindly, older woman who saw me out with my children, held the door open for me as I struggled with the pack, stroller and the older two holding my pockets and then said, “1, 2, 3, 4…that’s enough!”. Wahhhh Wahhh Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. As my husband would say in a sing-song voice, “Dick punch!”
I have no explanation for my quiet, meek acceptance of the douche-baggery that occurs every time I deign to walk outdoors with my ducklings in tow other than the cold, hard fact that I would not do well in prison. I’m not Martha Stewart. I can’t just go to prison and bounce back with several multi-million dollar deals. Also, I don’t know the first thing about shivs! My favorite comments on the brain to mouth vomit spectrum are:
1) “Are those all yours?”
What I say: (with a smile) “Yes!”
What I want to say: “Can you show me some I.D. before I answer this question?” (After I.D. is shown) “Oh, thank God you’re not law enforcement. Wait, are you undercover? SHIT!” Then, I’d ditch my shopping cart full of groceries and run as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.
2) “You should think about investing in cable!”
What I say: (forced giggling) “You’re probably right!”
What I want to say: “Do you have statistics handy to show that people without cable have more children? No? Well, I’m willing to wait here with my screaming kids while you pull up that data on your iPhone. Sir? SIR…WHERE ARE YOU GOING? I WANT FACTS!”
3) “Are you running a daycare?”
What I say: (still smiling) “Some days it sure feels like it!”
What I want to say: “Yes, this is a daycare. Today is field trip day and, I think, and you will agree random stranger, that nothing is more exhilarating than taking small children to Walmart. In fact, you caught us just in time. As you can see, we are in the toilet paper section and we are just about to learn the difference the number of plys make. Good thing you caught us at this pivotal point of the learning experience.”
Once, while in the library, pregnant with our fourth, a woman came up to me (who knew my husband’s family) and said, “What does your husband do for work? Is he a (description of a job that makes a lot of money)?”
Me: “No, he’s a (description of a job that makes far less money).”
Her: “Oooooohhhhhhh.” And suddenly, my pregnancy was her business and open for judgement.
What I said: (with a smile) “We make it work!”
What I wanted to say:”We make it work. We have everything we need. We love them. They love us. That might not be good enough for you, but, it’s everything to us.”
We make it work. We have everything we need. We love them. They love us. That might not be good enough for you, but, it’s everything to us.
Oh, and shove it.
|January 3, 2012, the day I became “that lady who should invest in cable”.|
|Look at how AMAZING they all are. I can’t imagine life with “less”. Great, now I want more. See naysayers, BACKFIRED!|