A kid is sort of a natural conversation starter.
You can expect people to show an interest in your kid. It’s kind of nice, actually. The bond of parenthood and all that jazz. But sometimes, certain comments catch me off guard.
Like when you’re sitting at fundraiser, minding your own business, folding donated clothes and a guy looks over and randomly remarks, “Oh, you’re folding those nicely because you’re a mom.“
I’m folding them nicely because the moron who donated them – for reasons I cannot comprehend – turned every single t-shirt and pair of jeans inside out, balled them up and crammed them into a dirty garbage bag. And I’m normal (sort of), and I think it’s unacceptable to donate something in that condition.
Furthermore, I’m pretty sure I would have folded them “nicely” even way back when I was a heathen, pre-Ryan.
(Of course, I don’t SAY any of that. Cuz that’s just begging for the oh-she’s-still-hormonal look in response.)
And then there’s the neighbor who thinks that because I have ONE kid, that clearly means I am hounding Mike for at least ten more RIGHT NOW. And he feels it necessary to imply this in passing at least twice a week.
Neighbor: Going to a baby shower?
Me: Sure am!
Neighbor: Your own? Hahahaha!
Me: Bite your tongue.
Neighbor: Oh yeah, like you don’t want at least three more… I know how you women are!
Should I bother trying to explain to him that Actually, I’m putting off the creation of child #2 so I can go on a beach vaca and eat all seafood and drink all the pina coladas I want? Every time I try to tell him that Ryan and my 47 bags are enough to carry for now, he chuckles and booms “Sure, baby!”
“Baby”? He’s LUCKY my hormones have subsided.
My point is. Sometimes people are annoying. That is all.