A friend has recently told me that she is pregnant. The news almost made me cry. In a good way. And then in a bad way. Nobody is more excited to hear that a friend is pregnant than those who already have kids. But it gets complicated. There are stages of acceptance when a new mom hears that a friend is expecting.
1. happiness: for them. They’re happy, you’re happy.
2. happiness: for yourself. Someone else to be lame with! This is great news. Maybe you can all go camping together? Or get cottages side by side? Or whatever.
3. sadness: they are so happy because their lives will be so purposefull and finally they’ll know what they’re doing and will change in wonderful and profound ways. Turns out this may only be true in extreme cases, like drug addicts or career woman. It almost makes me feel sad to see how happy and optimistic she is about the future because I felt that way too and now I’m just tired and need to shower.
4. fear: for them. The first weeks/ months are so bad and scary that I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy. Labour was like a spa day compared to the first two weeks. Not that I remember much. Blocking out memories is the brain’s way to try and recover from horribly traumatic events. My friend had a baby 6 weeks after I did. I didn’t talk to her from my delivery until a month after her’s. I couldn’t! I wouldn’t have been able to hide the horror of it all from her.
5. acceptance: I think I’ll be alright. I feel better about it all and a lot less scared and unsure. Oh yeah, I’m sure she’ll be fine too.
Like I have done. I know you’re supposed to love your breasts as they finally live up to their purpose and proudly and publically breast feed because it is natural and beautiful but I can’t. I have left the restaurant to nurse in the car, I’ve sat in a bathroom stall, gone to other rooms, etc. Babies are too unpredictable and easily distracted to be relied upon to keep you covered up. Maybe I’m like a teen age boy but I can’t have a conversation with someone who is breastfeefing because all I can think is “don’t look at her boob, don’t look at her boob”. Some women are so comfortable with it and aren’t the least bit concerned about exposing their breasts. They’ll put their baby down, boob out, and then pull their shirt down. They’re so free! I’m jealous. I’m such a prude, I don’t even know how I got pregnant in the first place!
My associate walked all the way home from work before he realized that he had driven to work that morning. The car will sit in the parking lot until we pick it up tomorrow. That is why you see lone cars in parking lots, late at night. Somone has simply forgotten it.
It’s sad when anyone suffers a fatal accident. Natasha Richardson’s ski accident is no exception. Her death has prompted some to debate the merits of legislating the use of helmets on the hill. Great idea. If it’s the law, many more people would definitely wear them. I know my chances of avoiding brain injury on the hill would drastically improve as I would never ski again. Snow pants do nothing for my post baby body and a helmet is the ugly cherry on top. One life saved.
WTF??!! Am I, and a handful of young boys, the only one who remembers that MJ is a sick fuck?? I can’t listen to his music without thinking of his sleepovers. He has a theme park in his back yard!! Now, from the sale of alllllll these tickets, he’ll be able to afford a wave pool in his bedroom or an ice cream truck that he’ll drive around to elementary schools! Way to go people.
I feel sorry for men. They don’t get to use wallets like women do. And so their change is all loosey-goosey in their pockets. And so they don’t get to carry around month’s worth of receipts for no reason or coupons they’ll never use because it’s tucked away in some pocket of their wallet. Also because they can’t deal with their emotions.