Have you ever been expecting visitors and then been disappointed when they actually show up?
For 24 months now, I’ve had a visitor. Usually, this visitor is ANNOYINGLY punctual. There were a couple months the visitor was early and a couple when the visitor was late. The early months, I hate. The late months, I REALLY hate. But the one thing I have learned to count on being COMPLETELY consistent is the disappointment that usually tags along with the cramps and backaches.
Even when I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this visitor will decidedly be showing up – bags packed and ready to deliver insomnia, bad attitude and many other pleasantries – I am still somewhat surprised at how disappointed I am at her appearance. I wish that once a month women could just get a pleasant note in the mail:
Dear [insert name here],
I’m sorry to inform you, but you are not pregnant this month.
Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. In order to alleviate some of the stress of this time, please feel free to be a grumpy as necessary, cry uncontrollably at television commercials (or radio ads or a silly comment made by a co-worker), eat all the chocolate you please and drink as much wine as you wish.
Remind any insensitive folks, that jokes at this time are greatly unwelcomed and unappreciated. If there are those that have any issues with the aforementioned provisos, please advise them – in whatever verbiage you so desire – to take a flying leap.
**sigh** In a perfect world.