Yesterday we went to a wedding. This was Bean’s first major outing, so it was a major undertaking. We had to pack the diaper bag, make sure she was dressed, make sure I was dressed, make sure she was fed, make sure we had everything she might possibly need, and then we headed out to pick up some friends & make it to the wedding on time-ish.

Then, it happened.

As we walked out of the apartment building, we ran into two neighbors. They fussed over Bean and said the usual things, then they turned to me. One of them — whose name sounds like a racial slur — patted my belly and said: “Oh, are you expecting number 2?”

What I wanted to say: “Look, woman, you really shouldn’t mess with me. First of all, I’m all hormonal still. Secondly, I think I look pretty dang great for a woman who had a baby a month ago and who’s had to travel between two cities and also be away from so many friends & family members during this time and anyway I’m really sleep deprived and likely to snap at any moment besides it’s also freaking hot and I’m suffering and it’s making me cranky and I really wouldn’t say anything else to me besides “Forgive me, oh gracious one” right about now. So, take you and your name-frequently-used-in-rap-music and (this portion of mab’s comments have been deleted to keep the blog family-friendly).”

What I said: “Well, it was a cesarean. I’m not supposed to exercise yet. It’ll pass.”

By the way, it was the same neighbors I told you all about before. I used to think this was just a culture clash thing. Now I’ve figured out it’s a rude thing. Grrr.

Anyway, thanks for listening to me vent. In really happy news, my hub had his bday yesterday and my sweetie Bean has her 1 month birthday tomorrow! In sad news, she has to go to the doctor and get a shot. Poor, poor Bean.

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