17 July 2006

Questions I'm Totally Sick Of

1. How much longer do you have?

Too long. Whether it's one more hour, one more day, one more week or three more weeks, it's going to be too goddamn long. The only person who can ask me this and not piss me off is the girl at Starbucks and that only because she gave me the "Mommy Discount" and I got my decaf tall mocha for free one day a couple of weeks ago because I was having a bad-mommy morning. The rest of you need to shut up.

2. Do you have a name yet?

No. Actually, yes. We have a list. As I've explained nine dozen times, I cannot and will not name someone I have never seen. It just seems wrong. When we see her, we'll name her. Please stop asking.

3. Can I get that for you?

This is the hardest one for people to understand. Especially, bless his heart, The Husband. He's only trying to help and make these last few (*cringe*) weeks easier for me. But, really. I can get a glass of water by myself (sort of) and I hate needing help with stuff. Therefore, having people help with stuff pisses me off. (I'm going to make a Fantastically Bad invalid when I'm old and decrepit. Can you tell?)

4. How are you feeling?

I am nine months pregnant. How do you think I'm feeling? Miserable. Bloated. Fat. Unwieldy. Uncomfortable. HOT. Pick any. Pick all.

Post-Script: I composed the foregoing litany of complaints in my head on the shuttle from the parking lot (which I am forced to take since it's 95 fucking degrees out at 8:45 in the morning and I can't walk that far anymore, anyway). I trudged to my building, suffered the elevator (since it about kills me to take the stairs) and waddled miserably to my cube - to find one of our postdocs, a lovely woman from Mongolia, leaving me 9 red roses. Nine. One for each month of suffering. I just about cried.

Post-Post-Script (11:09 AM): And just now one of our interns, a lovely woman from China, brought me a little something for the baby. It's very cute - all the more so because it's blue. (You can't even imagine how sick I am of putting pink on little girls. Honestly, they look great in other colors.) Perhaps I'm the one that should shut up now...


Sarah said...

I guess having a baby is somewhat similar to having a wedding... er. reception... er... party thingie (my own personal hell). You never know until you are firmly ensconsed in the middle of it that is isn't for you. Apparently, it never was. Everyone has a question. The same question. Will there be _____ ? What about Uncle _____? I know he drinks and doesn't bathe, but we can't hurt his feelings by not inviting him!! Good GOD! You want to eat THAT?!?! Are you sure? Some people don't like Etta James. Do you really want THAT as your first dance?

Ok, so mt diatribe was completely selfish and really had nothing to do with your situation. Maybe I should rant on my own blog.... I guess I just want to feel like I'm contributing. *snicker*

So... How are you feelimg? Not long now, eh? Boy, you sure are preggers!

(don't kill me :)

Bethanie said...

Oh, I can so relate to that - ohmigahd-this-isn't-for-me thing... My wedding was the same way and I wished I had eloped. (I still wish I had eloped!) The one thing to keep in mind about that is that it's YOUR party, so FUCK all the people who don't like Etta James and/or don't want to eat what you want to eat. You make yourself happy, 'cuz it's YOUR day.

And don't worry, I won't kill you. :) I'm in a much better mood today and you always make me smile and/or laugh, which is priceless. :)