Wednesday, July 27, 2011
A Peculiar Pregnant Person
I traveled this week to a far away land with the husband.
THE EAST COAST
I could probably write an entire blog just about the differences I've encountered living in the EAST vs. the WEST.
Although I've only ever lived in 2 states...one in the EAST (Virginia) and one in the WEST (Utah), I like to think of the EAST and WEST as two different competing All Star Teams in my head. What sport we are playing? I don't know...mommy field hockey? Mommy soccer? Most of my comparisons have to do with being a mom or the weather, so you tell me what sport incorporates both of these?
Alas, I digress.
So my belly is getting progressively larger at a rapid rate. And to be honest, I've got so much on the brain about the move that I don't really remember that I am physically looking very different (for lack of a better term) these days. And let's remember that I live in Utah where you can't swing a dead cat around without hitting something pregnant.
Well, let me tell you, it took less than 3 minutes in an EAST coast airport to remember that I don't look normal. THE STARES. Oh man, the stares.
The weekend got worse as we went to look at our new place. The real estate agent casually asked me, "When are you due?"
When I told him he said, "I have a two year old; kids are a handful."
I responded with, "Yeah, I know, this is number 3 for me."
"Wow," he said. "Three?"
Later in the day we decided to go mattress shopping.
(Mattress shopping is awesome, BTW, it's great to get to just lay down to discuss a purchase.)
The sales guy (who was really working hard) kept saying stuff like, "You're about to find out that she's the one who'll be getting up in the night with that baby. You don't want her shaking your side of the bed. Trust me, I know. I have 4 kids. You've got to work in the morning."
At some point, we broke the news to him that this was our third child. And again, shocking look.
We went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant with a bar at the front and just happened upon what looked to me like, "Happy Hour." As we walked in to get our table, the looks said:
"Wait. Hold up. She looks like she's my age (which I'm assuming I'm around their age), but she doesn't look like the women my age, most of whom are rocking their tube tops and short shorts tonight."
That's right kids. I'm not like you! Did I mention this isn't my first, but my third child?!
At the airport to catch our flight home, the lady at the desk asked, "Is this your first child?"
"NO. THIS IS MY THIRD! MY MOM HAD 5 KIDS BY THE TIME SHE WAS MY AGE!"
It was so nice to return to Utah, have someone immediately call me "mam", and not offer to open any doors or help me with my bag.
They're most likely thinking, "Been there. Done that. You'll survive."