My mother is, as most mothers are, very proud of her children. She keeps several pictures of us on her desk, even though my brother stopped being cute once he hit first grade.
(Momoodee, as we call her, is also very happy that most of her fellow teachers don't realize she's in her 60s. She had once flippantly said she was 40-something: Months later a few of them were discussing retirement and one of them said something about her being only in her mid-forties. Apparently they had believed her. Instead of being embarrassed, my mother decided it was their fault, since they should have known how old she was, what with her having a 30-year old daughter. Of course she was also proud that she apparently looked so young. We're religious about sunscreen in our family.)
One of the pictures she delights in displaying is one of me in high school, though I'm not sure why she likes it so much. I have a buzzed head, dark red lipstick, and a huge sneer on my face. Serious Elvisness going on. I can't wait to have kids so I can raise them up to be snarly, emotional teenagers.
Lately I seem to have reverted back to age 15 because I have been way snarly and immature. But as a teenager I was outwardly snarly. Now all the snarl is stuck inside, because what my inner voice is saying is usually not appropriate to say out loud. And because I can't express the snarl, I get embarrassingly teary on the outside or just act like the worlds most boring person while I try to suppress the tears.
I stopped over at my friend M_'s house last night to pick up some tickets she was giving me. She had gotten free theater tickets but decided she wanted to stay home with the kids because the baby had a cold.
On the inside: Gee, that's too bad how wistful you sound about not being able to go to the free show (which, by the way, ended up sucking hardcore). I wish *I* had a baby so I would have to stay home and cuddle with it. Oh, she's learning to roll over! How fucking adorable! And making little high pitched noises to amuse herself? Once again, how fucking adorable! Gee, remember how we were going to get pregnant at the same time and then you got pregnant the first month while all I got were cramps, PMS and the next ten months to figure out that my husband has no vas deferens? Remember how disappointed *you* were because *you* really wanted another person in our friend group to have a baby so *you* didn't feel left out.
What's that? You have a bunch of maternity clothes for me? Even though you know it might be a little while before I need them? How incredibly sweet of you, since I really need more baby shit laying around my house reminding me how I am NOT PREGNANT.
Oh, yes, A_ finally scheduled his surgery. He's all cranky because they already cashed the deposit check for $2100, *as most people do when you send them a check.*
Yeah, $2100 is a lot of money. I wasn't just pulling numbers out of my ass when we discussed this before, it really does cost that much and $12,000 more. But I *really* appreciate how you're trying to save me money by giving me your old maternity clothes even though just thinking about them right now makes me want to claw my eyes out.
On the outside: Gosh, that's really sweet of you to save your maternity clothes for me. Thanks again for the tickets. I better run so I'm not late. (Kissed kid and baby goodbye and ran out to car before I could start blubbering, clawing my eyes out, or both.)
And M_ is an awesome friend. In the past I have said all sorts of inappropriate and highly bizarre things to her and she has taken them in stride. She would NEVER want me to feel hurt or upset by something she has said. And it is sweet of her to give me theater tickets and maternity clothes. She wouldn't deserve any of the crazy and mean things I wanted to say. I am just irrational these days. And I don't want anyone to know. I don't want to be that crazy infertile friend who cries a little too easily. I don't want that to be my label.
Um, not really sure where this post is wandering off to. But you guys are awesome. I'm glad I have you so I can at least spew some of the snark.
Oh! And if you don't know Tracy, over at A few pricks along the way, send good embryo vibes in her direction. Divide and conquer, embryos, divide and conquer!