Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.
This week: Deal with Baby Bullshit
I’m 31. This still shocks the shit out of me sometimes. I mean, how did I make it this far with all of my limbs intact and a small portion of my brain cells still functional? Should I be receiving some kind of plaque? Perhaps a plaque is overdoing it, but a little lapel pin that says “I WIN AT LIFE” and a coupon for a large Frosty made with Grade A milk and rich cream from Wendy’s might suffice. That’s pretty reasonable if you ask me.
Since I’m 31 with a kid in junior high school, people find it reasonable to ask me all kinds of uterus-related questions. Are you going to have another baby? When? How many more? Do you want a boy this time?
My answer is always the same: “I don’t know.”
I’m not psychic or anything (although I do have an uncanny sixth sense that predicts with chilling accuracy when my laundry machine will ding), but I can tell from some of the long stares I get after my unsatisfactory answer that some people are thinking, “Gosh, Elizabeth, you haven’t had a baby since, like, 8th grade. It’s time.”
I just wish they would say this out loud because then I could reply, “Eighth grade? I didn’t get pregnant until I was 18 years old, dummy,” with a self-important sniffle as I walk away. I like getting the last word. It makes me feel good about myself.
You would think that an “I don’t know”would shut most people down, but that’s the thing about leaving the comforts of your home and elastic drawstring pants behind and venturing into The World- people tend to surprise you at every single turn with their nosiness. Are you at least TRYING to have more kids?” Do you NOT LIKE kids?
No, bitch, I don’t like tactless adults. I like kids just fine.
People always want to know your next step.
When you’re single, people want to know when you’re going to stop watching re-runs of Hardcore Pawn on Friday nights so you can meet The Right Person.
When you’re dating, they aren’t shy about reminding you that if he likes it, he shouldn’t be afraid to put a ring on it.
When you’re married and you don’t have a baby within the first year, these same busybodies want to know if you’re planning to start a family soon or (this is always said in a whisper) if you’re “having issues.”
When you have one baby, they want to know when you’re going to give the kid a little brother or sister. (“Only children get lonely, you know.”)
And when you have two babies, they want to know if you’re done or you’re going to keep going. And if you are, can you really afford it?
I think the best response to any of these questions is a simple “Shut the fuck up,” but I’m trying to do this whole Be a Lady bit these days, so I revised it to “PLEASE shut the fuck up.” Harv says that I can’t just go around telling people to shush because that’s not what classy bitches do. Maybe being a lady is overrated. It’s just not in my thug nature.
I really, really, really, really, really DO NOT KNOW my Five-Year Uterus Plan. But, I DO know that I’m sick of the Baby Bullshit.
Ever encountered these questions? How do you respond?
P.S. Let’s get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. Unless you don’t like salty language. Or funny pictures. Or Thug Life.
image via pinterest