And then I’ll become a “mommy-blogger.”
No really, when people hear I’m pregnant, there are three questions that always, never fail to come up.
- When are you due? (You tell them and they promptly forget and ask you 700 more times as your pregnancy rolls along)
- Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? (When I say we are going to be surprised, it’s either “Good for you!” or “Oh, I couldn’t stand not knowing!”. Who cares?)
- Were you sick at all? (See earlier blog on judging my level of suffering in order to rank me. The answer is no, by the way.)
I promise I will stop writing about pregnancy some day, it’s just hard because it’s so all-consuming right now. Hubby has already learned WAY more than he needs to about my cervix. He still thinks a vernix is a vagina and lanugo is a penis. He ought to be helpful in the delivery room.