This one angers me at any point in my life, pregnant or not.
If I open a can of Spaghettio's and glorious meatballs, I intend to eat them. With a spoon and a smile. It is not my intention to only pour half of the can into a child's bowl, eat those, and put the other half into the fridge, where they will only last for a few minutes before turning thick and brown, and thus inedible. But this is what the can thinks you should do. Because if you read the nutritional information on the label, the "servings per container" has an almost comical "2" listed. TWO?! I understand splitting it up between kids, but I'm a growing girl growing a girl. I's needs my Spaghettio's.
So while out and about, as growing girls often are, I stop at a gas station and pick up a nice, cool, refreshing beverage. I resist the thirsty pregnancy urge to buy a two-liter and a straw (most of the time), and get a modest 20 oz. bottle. Halfway through the carbonated taste explosion, I idly wonder how many calories I'm consuming. Hmm, not too bad. But wait... servings per container? That's the bottle, right? WRONG. 2.5 servings! What?! I have to share my sugary goodness with another adult and a midget?!
And you know how ramen noodles are the staple of eating on NO budget? That's because not only do they cost 10 cents a package, but you're also supposed to split the package between TWO people.
I get it. It makes the calories and percentages look better if you cut them in half (or more). Deceptive? Yes. INFURIATING? Absolutely. I just want to eat and drink without guilt. Already, as an oven cooking a bun, I have to watch out for what I consume. One can of tuna per week, at most. Very little to no caffeine. All meats must be well done. No raw eggs (which means no cake batter). There are various salad dressings, beverages, fish, and medications that are off limits. All I want is a Wild Cherry Pepsi and a few Excedrin. And now you're telling me that I just ate enough Totino's pizza for three people?! That's as bad as when you pick up your order at Taco Bell and they've included plasticware for more than just you.
So what's the moral here? Ignore the labels? Fill up your fridge with half-empty food and drink? (And no, I'm not a half-empty pessimist. They really are half-empty.) I say we fight the man. Get more honest food labels. And buy the clearanced Spaghettio's with old labels. But for now, while I am eating for two, I'll just count my unborn child as partaking in the second serving.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Non-Parent Registry Snobs.
So here's the deal: registries are just suggestions. There's no rule that says you HAVE to purchase a gift from a gift registry. Heck, there's no rule that says you have to purchase a gift. Babies are expensive, yes, and mommies can use all the help they can get, yes. But when it comes down to it, they're our responsibility to take care of and provide for.
Plenty of good gifts can be purchased that aren't on a registry. Clothing is a DEFINITE plus. Gift cards. Diapers. Restaurant and Pizza Hut gift cards for once you're home from the hospital and don't want to cook. Personalized and handmade gifts. The list goes on. No one SHOULD fault anyone for taking their precious time and money to purchase a gift NOT on a registry.
UNLESS...
The gift-giver is not a parent and does not purchase one of the above-mentioned awesome non-registry gifts. You know what I'm talking about. I was at a baby shower recently where the mommy-to-be was given a lot of really great and adorable gifts. I always like to put together a "Practical Basket", filled with diapers, wipes, Tylenol, baby wash, lotion, creams, bottle pieces... things that you KNOW will get used regardless of the size of the baby. She also received a video monitor, TONS of adorable clothes, shoes, socks, towels, gift cards... it was a good haul. Then her cousin, a woman who has hardly even held a baby before, let alone had one of her own, handed her a gift. "I know it wasn't on your registry, but..." My poor friend. You know how you always wonder how the American Idol judges hold their facial expressions during the goofy, just-for-ratings auditions? My friend had the same, stoic expression. The cousin went on and on about the supposed benefits of this gift, how it made all other gifts obsolete. My poor friend - and every other mother present - just remained silent. What is there to say?
There's an entire section at Babies R Us that I call the "First Time Mom" section. It's near the strollers and carseats. It contains all of the "nifty" and "neato" contraptions that, if they live up to their claims, make a parent's life a million times easier. Things that practically raise the child themselves. Bells and whistles abound. Pockets and zippers and compartments shaped for just ONE possible item. Straps. Velcro. Vinyl. Mesh. Once I was in that section with my husband and said, loudly, because that's my only volume, that it was the "We're first time parents so we don't know better" section. Then I watched a poor (but now otherwise educated) pregnant woman waddle quickly away with her registry scanning gun. You're welcome, ma'am. Well, this gift came from that section.
It happened to me a few years ago. A friend, who shall remain nameless, bought us TWO gifts, which shall remain unidentified. They were of the same novelty variety. Again, I was grateful that my friend took the time and money to think of us. But when you, a non-parent, hand over a gift with the sentence "I saw it wasn't on your registry, and thought you needed it," then your gift is almost guaranteed to be silly. It just seems awfully presumptuous of someone without children to assume they know better than a registry, doesn't it? Maybe that giant bouncer you got doesn't fit into the home. Maybe that PeePee TeePee is a money-maker that is just a glorified wipe-over-the-hose. Maybe we already had what you thought we needed. Maybe that gift you got is just useless.
Again, please don't read this as ungrateful. But if you don't have kids, please don't assume that you're smarter than the parents you're buying for. Unless they registered for that gadget that can "interpret" a baby's cries and tell you what it wants. Then buy them dog food, because they'd be better off. Like I said, plenty of great gifts can be given that aren't on the registry. It really IS the thought that counts. But if you're not a parent, and someone has taken the time to narrow down the vast ocean of baby gift possibilities for you, take their suggestions. It keeps you from wasting your money on self-cleaning bibs and automatic baby feeders.
Plenty of good gifts can be purchased that aren't on a registry. Clothing is a DEFINITE plus. Gift cards. Diapers. Restaurant and Pizza Hut gift cards for once you're home from the hospital and don't want to cook. Personalized and handmade gifts. The list goes on. No one SHOULD fault anyone for taking their precious time and money to purchase a gift NOT on a registry.
UNLESS...
The gift-giver is not a parent and does not purchase one of the above-mentioned awesome non-registry gifts. You know what I'm talking about. I was at a baby shower recently where the mommy-to-be was given a lot of really great and adorable gifts. I always like to put together a "Practical Basket", filled with diapers, wipes, Tylenol, baby wash, lotion, creams, bottle pieces... things that you KNOW will get used regardless of the size of the baby. She also received a video monitor, TONS of adorable clothes, shoes, socks, towels, gift cards... it was a good haul. Then her cousin, a woman who has hardly even held a baby before, let alone had one of her own, handed her a gift. "I know it wasn't on your registry, but..." My poor friend. You know how you always wonder how the American Idol judges hold their facial expressions during the goofy, just-for-ratings auditions? My friend had the same, stoic expression. The cousin went on and on about the supposed benefits of this gift, how it made all other gifts obsolete. My poor friend - and every other mother present - just remained silent. What is there to say?
There's an entire section at Babies R Us that I call the "First Time Mom" section. It's near the strollers and carseats. It contains all of the "nifty" and "neato" contraptions that, if they live up to their claims, make a parent's life a million times easier. Things that practically raise the child themselves. Bells and whistles abound. Pockets and zippers and compartments shaped for just ONE possible item. Straps. Velcro. Vinyl. Mesh. Once I was in that section with my husband and said, loudly, because that's my only volume, that it was the "We're first time parents so we don't know better" section. Then I watched a poor (but now otherwise educated) pregnant woman waddle quickly away with her registry scanning gun. You're welcome, ma'am. Well, this gift came from that section.
It happened to me a few years ago. A friend, who shall remain nameless, bought us TWO gifts, which shall remain unidentified. They were of the same novelty variety. Again, I was grateful that my friend took the time and money to think of us. But when you, a non-parent, hand over a gift with the sentence "I saw it wasn't on your registry, and thought you needed it," then your gift is almost guaranteed to be silly. It just seems awfully presumptuous of someone without children to assume they know better than a registry, doesn't it? Maybe that giant bouncer you got doesn't fit into the home. Maybe that PeePee TeePee is a money-maker that is just a glorified wipe-over-the-hose. Maybe we already had what you thought we needed. Maybe that gift you got is just useless.
Again, please don't read this as ungrateful. But if you don't have kids, please don't assume that you're smarter than the parents you're buying for. Unless they registered for that gadget that can "interpret" a baby's cries and tell you what it wants. Then buy them dog food, because they'd be better off. Like I said, plenty of great gifts can be given that aren't on the registry. It really IS the thought that counts. But if you're not a parent, and someone has taken the time to narrow down the vast ocean of baby gift possibilities for you, take their suggestions. It keeps you from wasting your money on self-cleaning bibs and automatic baby feeders.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Cars.
Oh, the blessed car horn. It had to have been invented by a pregnant woman. What's that, you think no one behind you has anywhere to be? HONK! You forgot that there was someone else on the road? HONK! The constant click-click-click of your turn signal for the last 8 miles is therapeutic? HONK!
I have always been prone to road rage. I'm impatient and grew up in the ghetto. I like to drive fast and have been known to forget my car has a speedometer. Being pregnant, it's increased. Exponentially. I have to pee, so the people in front of me need to speed up. I have a craving, so the person in the turn lane needs to finish their turn before Christmas comes and the drive-thru closes. Facebook just upset me, so homeboy in the truck on his phone needs to stay out of my lane. And the holy grail to a pregnant motorist: the good parking spot. If I have to get my waddle on, I want to do it over the shortest distance possible. Don't even get me started on having to limp like a pirate while I've got my two small children in tow. So you better believe I want that spot. Not the fake spot at Wal Mart that is actually taken up with a shopping cart corral. Why don't they paint those spots differently, anyways? No, THE spot. The spot you circled back around for, sat with your blinker for, watched a family of 8 load up groceries for 6 months for. So God bless the horn that alerts the jerk who stole my spot to his cruel ways. And the old lady to hers. One retiree is outranked by a pregnant woman accompanied by a child. Two retirees outrank a pregnant woman by herself... but barely. A pregnant woman with two or more children in tow outranks the invalid Queen Mother herself. If a van filled with the Pope, the Queen, four grannies, Dick Clark, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and Michael J. Fox were to pull up, even their load takes a backseat to a pregnant woman with children. Two pregnant women with the same amount of children should be permitted to park inside the store.
Whenever someone steals my spot, I like to walk (limp) slowly in front of them, clutching my belly, whispering to it that it's okay, the mean man didn't know any better, let's just be glad that someone let HIS mother have a good spot so HE wasn't born in a parking lot.
People have historically been idiots in traffic. But the sense of urgency and annoyance that pregnancy hormones bring out increase the effects of these doofuses. You can't tell through a windshield whether or not the person you just cut off is pregnant... unless it's a guy. Then it's fine. But just to be on the safe side, let's all just pay attention to the stinking road so that we don't anger any momma bears, mmmkay?
And for the love of God, people, take off the campaign bumper stickers from 7 years ago. It's impossible to vote for your candidate.
I have always been prone to road rage. I'm impatient and grew up in the ghetto. I like to drive fast and have been known to forget my car has a speedometer. Being pregnant, it's increased. Exponentially. I have to pee, so the people in front of me need to speed up. I have a craving, so the person in the turn lane needs to finish their turn before Christmas comes and the drive-thru closes. Facebook just upset me, so homeboy in the truck on his phone needs to stay out of my lane. And the holy grail to a pregnant motorist: the good parking spot. If I have to get my waddle on, I want to do it over the shortest distance possible. Don't even get me started on having to limp like a pirate while I've got my two small children in tow. So you better believe I want that spot. Not the fake spot at Wal Mart that is actually taken up with a shopping cart corral. Why don't they paint those spots differently, anyways? No, THE spot. The spot you circled back around for, sat with your blinker for, watched a family of 8 load up groceries for 6 months for. So God bless the horn that alerts the jerk who stole my spot to his cruel ways. And the old lady to hers. One retiree is outranked by a pregnant woman accompanied by a child. Two retirees outrank a pregnant woman by herself... but barely. A pregnant woman with two or more children in tow outranks the invalid Queen Mother herself. If a van filled with the Pope, the Queen, four grannies, Dick Clark, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and Michael J. Fox were to pull up, even their load takes a backseat to a pregnant woman with children. Two pregnant women with the same amount of children should be permitted to park inside the store.
Whenever someone steals my spot, I like to walk (limp) slowly in front of them, clutching my belly, whispering to it that it's okay, the mean man didn't know any better, let's just be glad that someone let HIS mother have a good spot so HE wasn't born in a parking lot.
People have historically been idiots in traffic. But the sense of urgency and annoyance that pregnancy hormones bring out increase the effects of these doofuses. You can't tell through a windshield whether or not the person you just cut off is pregnant... unless it's a guy. Then it's fine. But just to be on the safe side, let's all just pay attention to the stinking road so that we don't anger any momma bears, mmmkay?
And for the love of God, people, take off the campaign bumper stickers from 7 years ago. It's impossible to vote for your candidate.
Anything at ALL Having to do With Facebook.
It's the middle of the night and I should be sleeping. Instead, I'm alternating between sobbing and gritting my teeth. Pregnancy hormones? A bit. Facebook-induced? Absolutely.
I heard a term last week that stuck with me: Internet Assassin. Someone who hides behind the anonymity or safety of physical distance to wreak havoc on the internet. I'm no celebrity, so Perez Hilton hasn't attacked me. My outfits aren't mocked by millions mere moments after I wear them. But I am a member of a little social-networking site known as Facebook. I used to love it. I'm pretty nosey, so the photos, status updates, comments, etc. gave me lots of entertainment. I've been able to keep up with high school friends in a way generations before us never could. Congratulations and happy birthdays abound. Also, being a stay-at-home mom and having a schedule that keeps us too busy for friends, it was a wonderful connection to the outside world.
Until.
It all started with the hormones. Status updates and mobile uploads no longer brought me the same pleasure. Okay, so you've posted a photo of meat on the grill. Congratulations, cave men have been doing that for centuries. You're sick. AGAIN. (You know you have those friends.) Your dog doesn't have worms. Well, I have human children to be concerned with. I would read these things and the annoyed comments just bounced around in my head. Tonight, after receiving yet another message that made me fume, I figured it all out: We as humans have spent so much time, alone, on Facebook that we have forgotten that we are not the only person alive. The world does not revolve around us. Facebook was not created so that the digital world may marvel at our feet alone. Being alone with a computer or smartphone makes us forget social etiquette.
In the three days, I have received two messages that got under my skin. Private messages. The kind that have little to no accountability. Where you can just spout off how YOU feel without any regard to the person reading it. Okay, you got your feelings hurt - say something. If I didn't like you, you wouldn't be my friend on Facebook. This is not junior high. I, like just about everyone else, am a VERY busy person, with more on my plate than I can possibly hope to handle. I just don't have the capacity to feel bad that you got your feelings hurt over something that you WILDLY misinterpreted and took ENTIRELY too personal, when it had nothing to do with you to begin with. I realize that this situation is specific to me, only, but like I said, it's the middle of the night and I'm worked up. I especially don't have time for you if you can't even send me the message yourself. The fact is this: I'm busy. My life is crazy. Maybe before you send a message like that, stop and think of the receiver's perspective. The fact that they have stuff to do, stuff to worry about, stuff going on in their own lives, and they probably DIDN'T seek out ways to offend you. When did private messages go from "Yay, I have a notification!" to "I'm going to say whatever I want, hit send, and never have to deal with it"? What happened to human interaction? When did we get so high and mighty that we think every single status update applies to us?
Don't even get me started on people commenting on statuses that have nothing to do with them... If you are not a parent, don't respond to status updates requesting parenting advice.
If more than half of your Mobile Uploads album consists of you in a mirror, put some clothes on, LEAVE THE HOUSE, and make some friends with flesh that will encourage you, so that you're not looking for it in photo comments.
If you repost a status update about the number of Saturdays in a year, it will not make you any richer. It will only clog my feed.
If roughly a third of your status updates are about you being sick, and not something chronic, but multiple, differing complaints... just unfriend me, please.
There's nothing that hasn't already been said about the 'villes and worlds.
Status updates are so selfish most of the time. If we have a platform to really CONNECT with the people in our lives, let's not turn it into a 7th grade cafeteria. Let's do something useful with it.
I heard a term last week that stuck with me: Internet Assassin. Someone who hides behind the anonymity or safety of physical distance to wreak havoc on the internet. I'm no celebrity, so Perez Hilton hasn't attacked me. My outfits aren't mocked by millions mere moments after I wear them. But I am a member of a little social-networking site known as Facebook. I used to love it. I'm pretty nosey, so the photos, status updates, comments, etc. gave me lots of entertainment. I've been able to keep up with high school friends in a way generations before us never could. Congratulations and happy birthdays abound. Also, being a stay-at-home mom and having a schedule that keeps us too busy for friends, it was a wonderful connection to the outside world.
Until.
It all started with the hormones. Status updates and mobile uploads no longer brought me the same pleasure. Okay, so you've posted a photo of meat on the grill. Congratulations, cave men have been doing that for centuries. You're sick. AGAIN. (You know you have those friends.) Your dog doesn't have worms. Well, I have human children to be concerned with. I would read these things and the annoyed comments just bounced around in my head. Tonight, after receiving yet another message that made me fume, I figured it all out: We as humans have spent so much time, alone, on Facebook that we have forgotten that we are not the only person alive. The world does not revolve around us. Facebook was not created so that the digital world may marvel at our feet alone. Being alone with a computer or smartphone makes us forget social etiquette.
In the three days, I have received two messages that got under my skin. Private messages. The kind that have little to no accountability. Where you can just spout off how YOU feel without any regard to the person reading it. Okay, you got your feelings hurt - say something. If I didn't like you, you wouldn't be my friend on Facebook. This is not junior high. I, like just about everyone else, am a VERY busy person, with more on my plate than I can possibly hope to handle. I just don't have the capacity to feel bad that you got your feelings hurt over something that you WILDLY misinterpreted and took ENTIRELY too personal, when it had nothing to do with you to begin with. I realize that this situation is specific to me, only, but like I said, it's the middle of the night and I'm worked up. I especially don't have time for you if you can't even send me the message yourself. The fact is this: I'm busy. My life is crazy. Maybe before you send a message like that, stop and think of the receiver's perspective. The fact that they have stuff to do, stuff to worry about, stuff going on in their own lives, and they probably DIDN'T seek out ways to offend you. When did private messages go from "Yay, I have a notification!" to "I'm going to say whatever I want, hit send, and never have to deal with it"? What happened to human interaction? When did we get so high and mighty that we think every single status update applies to us?
Don't even get me started on people commenting on statuses that have nothing to do with them... If you are not a parent, don't respond to status updates requesting parenting advice.
If more than half of your Mobile Uploads album consists of you in a mirror, put some clothes on, LEAVE THE HOUSE, and make some friends with flesh that will encourage you, so that you're not looking for it in photo comments.
If you repost a status update about the number of Saturdays in a year, it will not make you any richer. It will only clog my feed.
If roughly a third of your status updates are about you being sick, and not something chronic, but multiple, differing complaints... just unfriend me, please.
There's nothing that hasn't already been said about the 'villes and worlds.
Status updates are so selfish most of the time. If we have a platform to really CONNECT with the people in our lives, let's not turn it into a 7th grade cafeteria. Let's do something useful with it.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Status Update Hijackers.
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.
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.
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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