Thursday, March 31, 2011

Confession: I can be rude.

As a stay-at-homer, my adult conversations are limited. It’s awfully disappointing that most of my adult conversations are peppered with rudeness. It’s to the point that I feel like outfitting my kids in matching tees reading, “Please don’t ask my mom rude questions and/or make rude observations.”
It wouldn't be effective but at least the general public would be forewarned before I unleash the pent up rage I have in regards to impolite, pointless questions.
“Are you going to try for a boy?”
We have 4 girls. We obviously tried. Don’t you think? Furthermore, what’s wrong with girls?
“Don’t you know how you get babies?”
Obviously, we are competent in this area. Thanks for noticing.
“How are you going to manage 4 kids?”
A minivan, lots of coffee, naps and wine. I think I read that in a parenting book. No, wait I just made that up. Oh, well, sounds good to me.
“This one doesn’t look like you.”
Wow, I appreciate you taking the time to notice our genetic differences. Did you have a reason to point this out? Because I can assure you she’s mine.  See the whole birth process is pretty unpleasant so that you’ll remember which kid is yours.
“You look tired.”
I am so I guess it’s a good thing that I can convince others of my exhaustion. Maybe it’s necessary to look tired so that others will leave me alone so I can sleep.
Now that I’ve unloaded what I really want to say when I’m asked the same rude questions over and over again, perhaps I can continue to grin and bear it. I can’t guarantee that though.