If you're not on Facebook, welcome to the outside world. This will still tick you off.
I had a friend who announced via status update, as we all can't wait to do, that she and her husband were expecting a boy. This was their first baby, and just like any expectant mom, I'm sure she'd had that status update worded since she was 8 weeks along. You only get to do it once per pregnancy, so it's a big deal. The comments section was quickly flooded with messages of congratulations and excitement, friends and family who were thrilled for the new little family. Except one. You know you have THAT friend. The joker who hijacks your status updates. He chose the comments section of SOMEONE ELSE'S status update to announce that he and his wife were expecting their second baby. Not his own Facebook page, for all of his OWN friends and family to see and congratulate him. But someone else's sacred space. The poor original momma-to-be was then forced to share the comments and congratulations, as congratulations for him began getting intermixed with what were rightfully hers. He has since been deleted by me for an unrelated hijacking incident.
But they're out there. They're in cahoots with Betty Buzzkill. If she can't steal your joy, then they send in the hijacking clean-up team to at least dilute it.
"I'm having a great day today!"
-Glad to hear it!
-How awesome!
-Praise God!
-I wish I could have an awesome day. I just found out my sister can't pay her bills.
How on earth is anyone supposed to comment after that?
"I'm so excited, my daughter is having a girl! My first granddaughter!"
-How exciting!
-You'll love it!
-What a blessing!
-My nephew is having his third baby. They're hoping for a boy.
How is that related?! Nowhere in that status update was a question posed or family history requested.
"I'm so sick today."
-Praying for you!
-Hope you get better soon!
- :(
-Me, too. I've been vomiting all night, had explosive diarrhea, and haven't eaten since three days ago. I could really use some prayers.
Then post your own dang status update!
Apart from the rules of general etiquette, it's especially rude to hijack a pregnancy-related status update. Pregnant women are given a limited amount of patience and an unlimited amount of hormones. Let us have our moment. If you can't, then just don't comment. You have the ability to post your own status update for a reason. I am more than happy to pray for you, offer up congratulations to your nephew, and recommend some financial assistance programs for your sister. Just do it on your own page, dad gummit.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
How Much Junk Costs
Congratulations on your new baby! Here is your bankruptcy application...
You HAVE to have clothes that fit. Pants with non-breathing stretchy bands. Work/Church/Public-Other-Than-Walmart appropriate shirts. New unmentionables that are... bigger. If it's your first pregnancy, you'll need new shoes for your new feet. If you plan to go anywhere OTHER than Walmart during the entirety of your 10-month pregnancy, sweatpants and Backstreet Boys t-shirts are just not going to cut it. Or so I've been told. So you head to the one, MAYBE two establishments in a 30-mile radius that sells maternity clothing. You're excited. You can't wait to LOOK pregnant. Who doesn't love shopping for new clothes? How fun to have a whole section of your closet that you can only wear during this magical time in your life. You feel like you're stepping into an exclusive, members-only club, where ladies proudly jut their bumps out and proclaim that they are round and FABULOUS. For once, you don't have to worry about sucking in. You grab a few pair of jeans, some dress pants, a dress or two, and 90 shirts. Casual, work, date... you need the same options you'd have if there weren't a bun in your oven. Mmm... buns.... Anyway, you rush to the dressing room and excitedly strap on the fake bump, take a cell phone picture of what to expect in the next few months, and admire your profile in the new clothes. Sure, they're insanely low-cut, but everyone by now knows that being a prude didn't get you into this new store, so you shrug it off. You'll just buy a few tank tops to go underneath, right? Which reminds the sales lady to measure you for an over the shoulder boulder holder. You walk up to the cash register, almost unwilling to set your choices down for the briefest of seconds because you're just THAT excited about them. You smile knowingly at the other ladies in the store, look around, guess at how far along they are. And then the saleslady brings you back to reality with the total: Your purchase of one pair of jeans, one pair of slacks, and two tops totals out to $398.52. WHA?!
Why the heck do maternity clothes cost so much?! Because we HAVE to buy them.
You've been so proud of yourself for saving. After all, cribs, carseats, strollers, dressers, diapers, bouncers, Bumbos, CLOTHES, blankets, bedding, bibs, lotion, tubs, shoes, socks, mittens, burp cloths, hats, wipes, more clothes, monitors, decor, baby carriers, COPAYS, high chairs, pumps, bottles, pacifiers, nursing covers, and Boppys aren't free. And let's not forget those random cravings for things that you just don't have at home, and baby CANNOT live without.
So once you've blown your savings trying not to be naked, you get to mortgage your house (since you JUST bought a bigger car to accommodate your growing family) in order to pay for all of the afore-mentioned necessities. Thanks, child-bearing industry. The bills are the best birth control out there!
And just to add insult to injury, what do you get in EVERY new mommy package you receive ANYWHERE? Information on a college savings plan. Ouch.
You HAVE to have clothes that fit. Pants with non-breathing stretchy bands. Work/Church/Public-Other-Than-Walmart appropriate shirts. New unmentionables that are... bigger. If it's your first pregnancy, you'll need new shoes for your new feet. If you plan to go anywhere OTHER than Walmart during the entirety of your 10-month pregnancy, sweatpants and Backstreet Boys t-shirts are just not going to cut it. Or so I've been told. So you head to the one, MAYBE two establishments in a 30-mile radius that sells maternity clothing. You're excited. You can't wait to LOOK pregnant. Who doesn't love shopping for new clothes? How fun to have a whole section of your closet that you can only wear during this magical time in your life. You feel like you're stepping into an exclusive, members-only club, where ladies proudly jut their bumps out and proclaim that they are round and FABULOUS. For once, you don't have to worry about sucking in. You grab a few pair of jeans, some dress pants, a dress or two, and 90 shirts. Casual, work, date... you need the same options you'd have if there weren't a bun in your oven. Mmm... buns.... Anyway, you rush to the dressing room and excitedly strap on the fake bump, take a cell phone picture of what to expect in the next few months, and admire your profile in the new clothes. Sure, they're insanely low-cut, but everyone by now knows that being a prude didn't get you into this new store, so you shrug it off. You'll just buy a few tank tops to go underneath, right? Which reminds the sales lady to measure you for an over the shoulder boulder holder. You walk up to the cash register, almost unwilling to set your choices down for the briefest of seconds because you're just THAT excited about them. You smile knowingly at the other ladies in the store, look around, guess at how far along they are. And then the saleslady brings you back to reality with the total: Your purchase of one pair of jeans, one pair of slacks, and two tops totals out to $398.52. WHA?!
Why the heck do maternity clothes cost so much?! Because we HAVE to buy them.
You've been so proud of yourself for saving. After all, cribs, carseats, strollers, dressers, diapers, bouncers, Bumbos, CLOTHES, blankets, bedding, bibs, lotion, tubs, shoes, socks, mittens, burp cloths, hats, wipes, more clothes, monitors, decor, baby carriers, COPAYS, high chairs, pumps, bottles, pacifiers, nursing covers, and Boppys aren't free. And let's not forget those random cravings for things that you just don't have at home, and baby CANNOT live without.
So once you've blown your savings trying not to be naked, you get to mortgage your house (since you JUST bought a bigger car to accommodate your growing family) in order to pay for all of the afore-mentioned necessities. Thanks, child-bearing industry. The bills are the best birth control out there!
And just to add insult to injury, what do you get in EVERY new mommy package you receive ANYWHERE? Information on a college savings plan. Ouch.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Buzzkills.
Let me first apologize for my absence. My blessed laptop's cord broke, and I reserve my desktop purely for work I'm paid for. Until now, when I got so worked up that I did the unthinkable: put the kids in front of Caillou so I could escape for 20 minutes. My poor husband has been dealing with my unblogged hormones for weeks now, and he is quite the champ. Now onto my rant. I'm all hyped up on caffeine-free Pepsi, so let's go!
"How are you sleeping?"
"Fine."
"Just wait..."
"How are you feeling?"
"Great!"
"Just wait..."
"What are you having?"
"A girl! We're so excited!"
"Well, I had a friend whose grandmother was told she was having a girl, only to deliver twin boys. I wouldn't paint that room pink just yet. And hold onto the receipts."
What the heck is wrong with these people?! Why is it impossible to be happy and joyous and share in the ecstasy someone is experiencing?! Even once the baby arrives, Betty Buzzkill is lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce on your bubble and pop it like it's hot. My kids used to sleep 14 hours every night. It was glorious. It was magical. It was too good to be true for some people. "Just wait, that won't last." So what?! It didn't last, of course, but why ruin the magical time during which I was a well-rested and caught-up-on-my-shows parent? Is it that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, so people feel the need to dump their manure on it, making both sides look brown? Is it because, once again, anyone who has ever sniffed Baby Magic assumes that they are qualified to hold three graduate degrees in child development, sonography, and obstetrics? Is it because us pregnant women are so magically lit from within when we smile with contentment that we blind others around us, and it's for the good of mankind that someone rain on our parade?
Who knows why. I'm hoping it's the last one, but that would require a lot more thought than some people put into their comments to pregnant women. A very dear and amazing friend of mine is pregnant right now. She has two insanely gorgeous boys, and has very selflessly carried twin boys as a surrogate for an amazing couple (now family!). If you're keeping count (which I can't), that's four boys in three pregnancies. Very concentrated with peepees. She, of course, like anyone who has multiple children of the same gender, has been receiving the "I hope it's a girl when are you going to try for a girl don't you want a girl the next one better be a girl" speech for years. Yesterday, she posted, very excitedly and happily, a sonogram picture of just HOW MUCH of a boy the new baby is. Wow. I'm blushing thinking about it. The majority were happy for her, as they should be! But there was the dark, plotting minority who couldn't accept that THEIR preferences hadn't been met. Betty Buzzkill popped up, possessed these women (most likely mothers themselves - they should be ashamed) to rear their heads and open their mouths and cry foul. I can't describe the ultrasound without making this blog inappropriate for those under 30, but it was obvious. Yet still, Betty assumed that her proximity to pregnant women granted her a medical degree, and announced that baby boy was in fact growing a foot between his legs, and "there's still hope for your girl" after all. First of all, why would you wish a baby to grow feet from his netherlands? Why would you hope that a child have feet that are shaped so that they have to be blurred out on TV? Second, by stating that "there's still hope", you insinuate that having a boy is a lost cause, a tragedy of epic proportions, something that is unwanted. Can you tell this is what sent me over the edge today and caused me to throw out what little patience I had so that I could hear Caillou's whiny, bald voice in the background? (Yes, his voice is bald. I'm pregnant. Let me have it.)
My angry point is that when you see a pregnant woman, a new mom, ANYONE happy about something, let them have it. Radio was happy to stay a junior in high school forever. Was he as old as Moses and in no way a high school junior? Yes. But was it worth it to have ruined his happiness to tell him so? Absolutely not, unless you're a black-hearted monster.
Let us be Radio. I promise you we're not unaware of what is to come. We know babies don't sleep well. We know pregnancy is a physically-draining event and we're not going to feel like sunshine the entire ten months. We know that there are stories of women who had delivery-room surprises. But we also know that our doctors hold medical degrees and have years of experience. We know we'll gain weight. We know stretch marks are genetic. We know diapers are expensive and are NOT air fresheners. We took all this into account and STILL chose to create a baby, a family, a whole new life. So keep your opinions and nay-saying to yourself, Betty. If you can't be happy for us, then buy us a gift card and move on.
"How are you sleeping?"
"Fine."
"Just wait..."
"How are you feeling?"
"Great!"
"Just wait..."
"What are you having?"
"A girl! We're so excited!"
"Well, I had a friend whose grandmother was told she was having a girl, only to deliver twin boys. I wouldn't paint that room pink just yet. And hold onto the receipts."
What the heck is wrong with these people?! Why is it impossible to be happy and joyous and share in the ecstasy someone is experiencing?! Even once the baby arrives, Betty Buzzkill is lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce on your bubble and pop it like it's hot. My kids used to sleep 14 hours every night. It was glorious. It was magical. It was too good to be true for some people. "Just wait, that won't last." So what?! It didn't last, of course, but why ruin the magical time during which I was a well-rested and caught-up-on-my-shows parent? Is it that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, so people feel the need to dump their manure on it, making both sides look brown? Is it because, once again, anyone who has ever sniffed Baby Magic assumes that they are qualified to hold three graduate degrees in child development, sonography, and obstetrics? Is it because us pregnant women are so magically lit from within when we smile with contentment that we blind others around us, and it's for the good of mankind that someone rain on our parade?
Who knows why. I'm hoping it's the last one, but that would require a lot more thought than some people put into their comments to pregnant women. A very dear and amazing friend of mine is pregnant right now. She has two insanely gorgeous boys, and has very selflessly carried twin boys as a surrogate for an amazing couple (now family!). If you're keeping count (which I can't), that's four boys in three pregnancies. Very concentrated with peepees. She, of course, like anyone who has multiple children of the same gender, has been receiving the "I hope it's a girl when are you going to try for a girl don't you want a girl the next one better be a girl" speech for years. Yesterday, she posted, very excitedly and happily, a sonogram picture of just HOW MUCH of a boy the new baby is. Wow. I'm blushing thinking about it. The majority were happy for her, as they should be! But there was the dark, plotting minority who couldn't accept that THEIR preferences hadn't been met. Betty Buzzkill popped up, possessed these women (most likely mothers themselves - they should be ashamed) to rear their heads and open their mouths and cry foul. I can't describe the ultrasound without making this blog inappropriate for those under 30, but it was obvious. Yet still, Betty assumed that her proximity to pregnant women granted her a medical degree, and announced that baby boy was in fact growing a foot between his legs, and "there's still hope for your girl" after all. First of all, why would you wish a baby to grow feet from his netherlands? Why would you hope that a child have feet that are shaped so that they have to be blurred out on TV? Second, by stating that "there's still hope", you insinuate that having a boy is a lost cause, a tragedy of epic proportions, something that is unwanted. Can you tell this is what sent me over the edge today and caused me to throw out what little patience I had so that I could hear Caillou's whiny, bald voice in the background? (Yes, his voice is bald. I'm pregnant. Let me have it.)
My angry point is that when you see a pregnant woman, a new mom, ANYONE happy about something, let them have it. Radio was happy to stay a junior in high school forever. Was he as old as Moses and in no way a high school junior? Yes. But was it worth it to have ruined his happiness to tell him so? Absolutely not, unless you're a black-hearted monster.
Let us be Radio. I promise you we're not unaware of what is to come. We know babies don't sleep well. We know pregnancy is a physically-draining event and we're not going to feel like sunshine the entire ten months. We know that there are stories of women who had delivery-room surprises. But we also know that our doctors hold medical degrees and have years of experience. We know we'll gain weight. We know stretch marks are genetic. We know diapers are expensive and are NOT air fresheners. We took all this into account and STILL chose to create a baby, a family, a whole new life. So keep your opinions and nay-saying to yourself, Betty. If you can't be happy for us, then buy us a gift card and move on.
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