Peanut Gallery Strikes Again....

Yesterday was a great day.

The sun was shining....the Beans were happy-ish most of the day.....and I slept the night before. It was shaping up to be a red-letter day!

Then I went to the commissary.

For the record - the car-carts are the best invention ever. EVER. After dropping String Bean at school; Jumping Bean, Bitty Bean, Boy Bean, and I, all went to the commissary to have some fun.

That was said in a completely serious tone. The Beans LOVE grocery shopping! 

Anyway.

After placing Boy Bean in the sling and loading the girls into the car cart and instructing them to "drive safely," we stopped at the deli for the free kids cookies.

My children are just like me. You give them food and they love you. 

Therefore, I love the commissary deli...their little cookies enable me to pick out produce to the joyful murmurings of a beginning sugar high. The cookies typically last until I am almost done with the produce area....then we stop and say "hello" to the lobsters.

Yep. It is barrels of fun to shop with me.

If we do NOT say hello to the lobsters...or....heaven forbid....they are all on vacation.....we have a mini-melt-down. I really try to keep it together - but the lobsters are just so fun to figure out conversations for!

Anyway.

So we sang and danced and drove our way through our list. It was great fun! Children were happy and cooperative....I looked like I totally had this mom-thing down.

Except for the fact I hadn't showered yet. I mean, I wore a baseball cap and thought I looked relatively presentable....but no time for shower and make-up...yet.

We successfully made it through the store without melt-downs, potty runs, or poop explosions. So it was a really, really, good day. After checking out - with all groceries loaded on the conveyor belt by Jumping Bean and Bitty Bean - it became apparent I was due for something story-worthy to make this trip feel like any other day.

Thankfully, the bagger wanted to help the day feel normal.

She noted my three wonderfully-adorable children and said, "Three?!" 
I said, "Yep. And my oldest is in Kindergarten."

I don't really know why I always feel the need to verify my insanity...but I just don't want String Bean left out of the lineup.

This sweet older lady then said, "Oh my! HOW do you do it??"
"Well, I don't sleep very much." I said with a wink.
She then leaned in toward me....pointed her bony finger at my face....studied it carefully....and said "Oh. I can see that. You look very tired. Look at those bags under your eyes."

Apparently I looked very tired. Thank you random stranger.

If only I were still pregnant I would have come up with an ingenious line. Instead I just stood there...eeked out an "okaaaaay"....and headed to the car.

 I won't lie. I know I have bags under my eyes that I may need to check the next time I fly. I guess I'll take comfort in knowing one day I will finally get sleep.....tact is much harder to come by.

Copyright 2011

Pregnancy comments...part 2

Yesterday, I posted about a comment from a stranger regarding temporary insanity in pregnancy.

Since I seem to have a knack for garnering interesting and shocking comments on pregnancy from the masses, I thought perhaps I should chronicle "the good ones" from this pregnancy.  During my trip to the commissary yesterday, I was given a TRUE gift in the memorable-comment-department.

(Quick aside - NEVER, EVER, go to the commissary - ANY commissary - on the 1st, or the 15th, of the month. All the armed services get paid on the same two days. Avoid the military complexes on those days AT ALL COSTS!)

Anyway! As we carefully weaved our way through the aisles packed with retirees, sleep-deprived mothers, whining children, and annoyed men; I was suddenly stopped by an overly-excited-twenty-something-female. 

(For the record, being stopped in the aisles was like having a car break down in one of the Hampton Roads tunnels. It stopped ALL TRAFFIC and caused numerous glares in my general direction.)  

She looked at me and said, "How far along are you?! I'm 9 weeks pregnant with my first!" (Insert HUGE smile and patting on exceptionally-flat-abdomen)

I turned from calming Chilly Bean's hysterics over not walking, and giving Jumping Bean the "eye" because she couldn't lay on the floor of the commissary, and said, "Oh, I am 20 weeks along."  

The poor super-thin-trim-flat-stomach-very-comfortable-in-a-bikini girl looked at my stomach with eyes the size of saucers and said, "You are REALLY HUGE. RIGHT?! PLEASE say you are HUGE!!!"

Poor thing.

I grinned and said, "Well, it IS my 4th...but yes, I carry them with a pretty big belly!"

(I was tempted to tell her the belly getting big is not the most shocking of the pregnant changes...stretch marks...loss of bladder control...no more sleeping in....lower back pain...varicose veins...acne...excessive hair growth....but I figured if she fainted in the aisle an angry mob of retirees would jump me for blocking the way!)

Copyright 2010

Let the Comments begin...

Today, as we four women were out and about, I officially heard "a new one."  You know - a comment that people think is original and creative, but actually isn't?  If I could get some $$ for every time I am/have been told: "You have YOUR hands full!" Or, "All girls?  Better keep trying for that BOY!" I would be VERY rich at the moment. (Quick aside - Yes, my hands are full....with exactly what I want! And No - we have never tried for any gender...we've just been blessed beyond belief with each little bean in our pod.)  

But I digress.

The comment I was told today was this..."Do you go crazy when you are pregnant?"  (Bear in mind, this question was posed by a man who's significant other is apparently due in December - she was not present - who just saw me out with my children and my belly, and decided I looked stable enough to ask that particular question.) 

For any of you who know me...or have read anything I have EVER written...you would know I am NOT a stable person!  I have hormones rushing through me at adolescent levels even when I'm not pregnant...so when I AM pregnant the craziness reaches epic proportions.

I guess a good question back would have been, "How do you define 'Crazy?'" 

If the definition of "a sane person" includes someone who would: flip out over an order of lunch meat getting messed up; sob shoulder racking cries while loading clothes in the washing machine; periodically hide from their children in the shower; plan into their week their "break down" time; cry over Hallmark cards randomly...that aren't even sappy; and use the "phone a friend" lifeline as a desperate hunt for her last strand of patience; then I would say, "No! Everyone does not go crazy when they are pregnant!"

(I mean, I haven't tried to kill anyone...yet.)

But really, that definition above does not describe a stable person. It does, however, describe ME.  Not all my facets mind you...I like to keep people on their toes...but definitely some of them!

The poor man looked so overwhelmed with the woman at home who was vacillating between cries, laughter, anger, and panic; (I would em-pathetically assume!) he didn't want the truth.  He just needed comfort. As Jack Nicholson said so eloquently in A Few Good Men: "The truth? You CAN'T handle the truth!"

I smiled. I wiped the ketchup from my stomach, the snot from my shoulder, and the spit from my thigh - and said, "We all have our days. Just love her."  He seemed comforted by that and went on his way.  

The Beans and The pod

Then I sat down and teared up. 

Copyright 2010