I stole this list off of MSN but it’s so true. What’s funny is that people think they are being so nice when they say some of these things.

So…was it planned? I always want to say, no, but were you? I mean really, if only planned children were born, there’d be so few of us on the planet.

30 weeks? You’re still so small! Hahahaha, I’ve never gotten this one, I get the opposite. Are you almost due? You look ready to pop. Yeah, I’m gonna pop you if you’re not careful. Never mention weight in any way to a woman, this is what my husband says. I think it should be a standard rule.

Speaking of pregnancy, did I ever tell you about my sister’s 36-hour labor. Oy ve, seriously! These stories scare the crap out no of me right now. The 40 hour labor, the neither regions torn to shit, the breech positions needing to be turned, and my oh so favorite, the overdue baby. In a way, you want to know what you might have to deal with, but mostly these things keep pregnant women up at night. Dude, I’ve had kids, I know how it can be, but I still shudder every time I hear one of these tales.

Well, maybe next time it’ll be a boy. This just bugs me. We’re getting, oh it’s a boy, you must be thrilled. Well yes, we are, but we’d have been just as thrilled if it was a girl. I’ve never cared on any of my kids. If I’d had three boys or three girls that would have been just as cool. A baby is a baby, you know?

Felt any kicks yet [said while placing hand on her belly]? Never touch the belly without asking. NEVER!!!!!!! I am hungry and I might just eat your hand.

[Insert name]? Really? Hmm, that’s an…interesting choice. This is why we don’t tell until the kid is born. We made the mistake with Morgan, telling family and we got so much shit. Oh that’s a Hispanic name; oh don’t you mean Mia; where did you come up with that? Not nice people, not nice at all. Now if someone is telling you that they are going to name their kid Apple or Moxie Crimefighter, I beg you, please say something. But mostly, it’s not your kid, so be nice.

That’s a decaf latte, right? Actually bitch it’s not. I just heard this in Starbucks. Literally half an hour ago. Like it’s any ones business. Today I decided that I can’t do decaf anymore. I’m just not sleeping and I needs me some caffeine. So real coffee here I am, I’ve missed you.

Let me know when you’re at week 15. I’m praying this one works out. I can’t even go there on this one, but I got it alot in the beginning.

Yeah, babies are cute and all, but just wait until puberty… Um okay, we all know teens can be a pain, hell we all were one at soem point. But ti’s not enough of a reaosn to not have kids. Because honestly 3 year olds can be worse.

Anyone have one they’d like to add?

I went into the Target superstore this morning to pick up a few items. You know the usual, 2 dozen donuts, three half gallons of chocolate milk and 4 bunches of bananas. I swear to god the woman in the checkout looked at my stomach and then at the food 6 times while ringing me up. She didn’t say a word, but she was giving me the stink eye. I can’t even imagine what judgmental things were going through her head. Like, lady you might want to step away from the donuts.

I wanted to say, um these are for my kids day camp party today. I swear, I won’t be eating a single donut. (Not that looking at them didn’t make me drool, but I am here at work, eating my peanut butter toast and drinking OJ, no donuts in sight.) But I don’t think she would have believed me. She was about this big (holds up pinkie finger to show the Internets) and she was totally judging me. I wanted to say, you know, one day you’ll be the preggo chick. One day, you’ll be the one with two kids and a third on the way. One day you’ll look like a beached whale. You won’t be a 19 year old skinny snob forever, it just doesn’t last.

But I didn’t, I didn’t say anything. I left the store fuming and I went to work.

Sexy is not word I’d use to describe a 33 freaking week pregnant chick, no matter what the baby center emails say. The media however does. They show pictures of Heidi Klum and Angelina Jolie and expect all us pregnant women to live up to that. 99.9% of us don’t. You know why? Because we didn’t look like Heidi Klum to begin with. So there’s no way we’d look like her, just because we’re pregnant. Women are asked how they’re going to lose the baby weight, before the kid is even born. It’s just wrong and I’m sick of it. Whatever happened to doing what is best for your baby? Whatever happened to celebrating women for giving the gift of life? Whatever happened to the understanding that not all women are alike and we don’t all need to look like super models?

I guess I can understand what she was thinking. I’m never gonna be like that, I’m never gonna be fat; when I’m pregnant one day, I’m going to watch what I eat and that won’t happen to me. A lot of teens believe this. But she didn’t have the body of Heidi Klum, so I doubt it will work out the way she thinks it will in her head.

I just wanted to shake her and say, when it’s you, you won’t want some punk teen judging you. You will one day be the hormonal woman wanting to shake someone just like you. So knock it off! But this isn’t acceptable behavior, so instead I explained to my little girls why it bugged me so much. I explained it to them in words they could understand and I did my best to leave behind my attitude and one day I can hope, they won’t be judging someone like me.

Because, she was so judging me. And this is the only thing I can do about it; try to educate the next generation. I just hope it will be enough.

AMENDMENT: (Ha, you can totally see what type of profession I am in.) In response to Alissa, I have gotten these kind of comments forever and I feel your pain. I have horrible skin allergies and I can’t wear jewelry. I have a wedding ring, which I used to wear around my neck on a chain, but even that gives me insane rashes, which leads to bad exema and asthma issues. Gold, silver, platinum, it doesn’t matter, I can’t wear it. I’ve been married for almost 10 years and I get comments made about my girls being…whatever. Although it wasn’t as bad in LA as it is here and I can only imagine how much worse it would be in a small town.

Just thought I’d share where my kids college fund went today. Who needs school when there are teeny boy clothes to buy? When I walked in the house and Logan saw everything, he turned to Morgan and said, “you better learn to say, would you like fries like that.” Jerk.

In my own behalf, I will say, it’s not over the top, considering how bad it would have been if it was a girl, nor if you look in the girls closets. Girl clothes outnumber boys clothes in stores like 100 to one. (I kept having to walk to the very back of the store to find baby boy clothes.) We are not a minimal clothes type of family. All of these clothes and shoes (I did get blankies, socks and bibs too, but I ran out of room) were on sale. Well almost all of them. Plus, my kid would be dam cold running around nekkid, seeing how it will be getting cold by the time he’s born.

So….I’m thinking the girls will still be able to go to college. But the boy, well he’s on his own.
These three outfits made my teeth hurt, they were that cute.

See my son’s pimp baby shoes? They are fives and they seem huge, so I have no idea when he’ll wear them, but my husband shut his mouth when he saw them.

This one is proabley way more right than I know in the moment. In case you can’t see it, it says, I’m the Boss around here!

You guys are about the sweetest people in the world. Truly. Reading your comments and emails yesterday kept me sane. I was under the impression that I’d fall apart yesterday. I didn’t. It was definitely not the easiest day in my life, but strangely not the hardest either. I had my husband to talk to, my kids to play with and you. That was enough. I don’t feel alone in this. I was shocked at how many people have gone through the same thing. Shocked at the sheer number of people who lost a baby in the second trimester. Someone even told me in an email, that one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage. One in five people. That number is insane. Can I tell you all honestly something? Last year when I lost my baby, I thought that I was alone; that I’d done something to make it happen. Those thoughts caused me to go off the deep end. I didn’t realize how many people I knew who had lost babies, because no one had ever talked about it. My aunt had five of them in between her two kids; this I knew. But she was the only one who I knew about. In the last week, even my grandmother told me about having one in between my first two aunts and how she folded into herself for a while believing it was all her fault.

Why don’t we talk about this stuff? Why do we keep it to ourselves and bury it inside? Is it fear? Fear that it’s our fault? Fear that people will judge us? Or do we just not want to discuss it?

I don’t have the answers….I don’t know what I’m trying to say really. But I love each and everyone of you who told me your story yesterday. I needed to hear that, more than anything else. I love each and everyone of you who came by and read my story and didn’t comment too.

Kristin, I adore you for sharing on my behalf. For telling people something that you might never have shared, for me. I just want to send you butt loads of wine, but more than that, I want to come and drink wine with you. Although, it’s hard to do now that I live no where near you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

Being a mother is hard work. I stole this line from Tori, but truer words have never been spoken. Some days I wonder who thought that I was adult enough to raise these beautiful little girls? Who in the hell thought I was mature enough to watch my heart walk around in the world every day? As mothers we sometimes gloss over the hard parts of parenting these little monsters. We talk about poop, big attitudes and not taking naps and we miss talking about our fears of inadequacy. Our fears that we aren’t good enough and we’re just creating the need for more therapists. I love some of the posts from the Internets this past week, for just the opposite of this. Because people are being honest on how hard this is and it’s about time. The most notable one is HerBadMother’s post from last weekend. This my friends is why I missed this space, why I missed blogging. Because a lot of us are able to write in words, what we gloss over in conversations. I love it. I needed it. I missed it.

My girls deserve for me to talk about this stuff. Not because they need to hear it today at six and four years old. For one day, just in case, so they don’t feel alone. They deserve the world and my baby boy does too. I just have to figure out how to be that for them.

Off to look at Dragon Boats now, whatever the hell that is. (This is what I get for telling Logan to plan our day.)

ps. Name post on it’s way. Am serious about getting over that hurdle. Ideas anyone? We have a long list that we like (or names we each like but the other doesn’t)….Beckett, Harrison, Alexander, Cole, Wyatt, James, Jackson, Miles, Milo, Tristan….any ideas would be lovely.

I have a bit of an obsessive personality. I knew that already, but my therapist told me that this morning. I was telling her about blogging again and how much I’ve missed it and about my new love for Twitter. Because, my lovely friends, I am in love with twitter. I checked it all day yesterday. I’ve resisted getting updates sent to my phone (at least for right now), just because I’m afraid I may over do it and everyone will un-follow me. I have even sent tweets to some people who don’t follow me. I hope I’m not breaking some kind of unwritten Twitter rule or something.

The truth is, I get all into something when it’s new. When iTunes first came out, I had to download everything in sight. I was on it all the time. When IM’ing first came out, I was in love with it and I wanted to chat on it all day. Then it was texting on my Crackberry and the wii….oh I love the wii. I’m still addicted to the wii. When I first gave it to Logan for Christmas, we spent hours the first night playing wii bowling and making the fugly-ist mii’s possible. The next day I couldn’t move my right arm at all.

Now it’s Twitter. I’m willing to admit, I’m in love with Twitter. Hi, my name is Issa and I’m addicted to Twitter. What will happen is in a few weeks, I’ll still love it, but I’ll get over the addiction part. Then I won’t feel the need to check it all day.

Or at least that’s what I told my therapist. She wasn’t all that impressed with my explanation. Truth is, I’ve always been like this. Do any of you remember when I professed my love for orange chicken from Panda Express? Well I got over it. I love something until I don’t and then I just like it. It’s a part of who I am. It’s a part of me that I’m not overly bothered by in the least. Everyone who knows me, knows that I’m like this. Doesn’t seem to be a problem for them. Everyone has their quirks, right?

For my therapist, it’s a sign of something greater. But I guess in a way, that’s her job to tell me how crazy I am. I tell you this, for this reason alone…if I start to bug you too much on Twitter, just know it’s a sign that I super-dup like you. That and I’m freaking bored. But if I get too overbearing, just let me know.

Truly, this was the best therapy session I’ve ever been too. I spent the whole time explaining my quirks and talking about all of you. Even though she things I’m nuttier than I was before, at least it was fun for me. There was no sobbing involved and that’s a great thing in my world. So rock on Twitter!!