Pregnancy Convention

Jeff and I went to IKEA yesterday to pick up some stuff for the house, mostly for the nursery. We thought it would be a good place to go for affordable furniture that suits our needs right now, especially in having to purchase two of many items. Of course, the first thing I had to do when I got there was go to the bathroom. That was where I started to realize I was at a pregnancy convention. I swear there were four pregnant women in the bathroom while I was waiting in line (and the line wasn't even long!). As we were walking around the store, Jeff noted that he could see at least one pregnant woman from anywhere in the store. It was unbelievable.

We made it out alive, though our pocketbooks are begging to differ. We picked up dressers and some storage furniture for the nursery, so all we really need to think about now is cribs. We're probably going to wait to put things together until the family converges upon San Antonio in a few weeks, unless anyone is strongly opposed to furniture assembly.

Love you all.

Kerri

What Not to Say to a Pregnant Person

I went out to dinner the other night with a friend who has twins and two other mothers of twins she met through San Antonio Area Mothers of Multiples. As an aside, I fully intend on joining this group, especially because of the semi-annual yard sale they host; I can't think of a better way to save some money.

We went to a swanky restaurant called Silo. Being at the stage I am, I had very little to wear, and I was under dressed, but it didn't matter much once we took the elevator to the dining floor (yes, they had a private elevator; I thought "elevated dining" was just figurative speech).

Upon sitting down the ladies found the wine menu and ultimately decided on one of the waiter's suggestions. He came back with it, displayed the bottle, displayed the cork (explain this one to me, please?), then began pouring wine for each of us. When he got to me, I declined, so he offered a cocktail from the bar, unless, in his words, I was "holding the keys tonight." I responded with an, "I'm actually holding the babies tonight," and patted my growing belly, which I admit is hard to see when I'm sitting down. It took him a minute to process the plural aspect of my statement, but he congratulated me and left us.

I thought that was the end.

The menu had three options for me: duck, pork shank and chicken. Apparently because I'm pregnant I had to order first, so I asked for the pork shank, to which the waiter replied, "You really ARE eating for three!" Really, dude? At that moment I secretly wished the pork came with a prison grade shank so I could teach him repercussions of bad manners. Alas, it came out without a carved down spork, so I had to settle for the rather delicious meal instead. Until he came back to check on me. Not the entire table, just me. He put his hand on my shoulder, looked me directly in the eye, and said, "I just want to make sure that's enough food for you." You would be more appalled by this if you saw the plate. I am a voracious eater these days, but I only finished half the dish. It was huge. Like, Texas sized huge. As my shank dreams returned, he quickly left. The only consolation was the knowing looks of sympathy from the other twin mothers.

I know these comments will get worse and more common, but that was really my first experience with an ignorant stranger trying to be casual with me about my pregnancy. I've heard horror stories from some of you reading this blog ("If you keep eating pizza your baby is going to come out as a pizza!"), so I know this isn't uncommon. I think I will make it my mission to educate all people, especially men, about appropriate and inappropriate comments to pregnant women. Maybe this is a book in the making. I guess I should start writing down each time someone offends me and see where it goes.

Good day!