I’m not a report, so what do you mean, “When am I DUE??”

A completely ditzy gal tonight leaned in excitedly, as if to get the latest gossip, and who, you need to know, I have NEVER laid eyes on before in my life, asked “when are you DUE!”   I looked at her for a minute before it registered she was talking to me.  Seriously!?  I’m not a book report.  I am no science fair project.

I then proceeded to say the first thing out of my mind/mouth (see  unpublished hand guide about the absence of a filter on the thing) and it went something like… “Oh about 9 years ago now I’d say…” (said very matter of fact-like.)   I felt bad, so I get credits there… I know it’s written in the fine print somewhere that feeling bad after a rude response is allowable if said after a previous RUDE comment from another about the state of one’s NON-pregnacy.  Look it up.   Anway, I immediately felt scummy – honest, but then I doubled back and flattened out my gray blousy-designed-that-way (note: not simply worn too big)  stylish long sleeve top (which I had bought after Christmas simply because it gave me “flattering” extra room and hid the extra 15 lbs over my “target weight” I’d packed on, or so I THOUGHT).    I had to prove to the completely NOT-INTERESTED public at large that I was SO not fat NOR pregnant – in more than words alone.  In short -She had to SEE she was wrong about me!!

My pride was wounded, okay?  I didn’t want to make her feel bad… but listen here – not everyone can say they’re within 15 lbs of their oh-so-targeted weight the nifty charts say they should be at.  So really I am so far ahead of the game!  I NEEDED her to see that for some stupid reason.  But why doesn’t it feel that way when someone asks if you’re pregnant and ARENT??  Why do I STILL feel that way hours later?

Suddenly I can go from being happy  that I have three amazing kids and have survived their babyhoood, toddlerhood, general school-age chaos, and yes, Pre-teen-dom! to beyond bummed and self-loathing in seconds.

I AM ahead of the game.  I am. Admittedly a tad sluggishly, but I HAVE arrived at the halls of the infamous TEEN-hood walk of fame, and am still alive and kickin.  So… how dare you – person who shall remain name-less (mainly because I forgot to look at your nametag) how dare you shatter my precious ego at the amazing mother I am.

I will have you know…  I may be a bit deflated, and yes, honestly, I do look a bit tired, frazzled, and ragged around the edges… but I’ve made it in so many ways.   I have a lot of show for the years I’ve put in, 13.4 to be exact here (plus those 9 months of carrying  the kid too).    I may be a Mom with dark circles under my eyes and the extra 15 lbs to show for it, but there’s more where that came from.  If you wanna see them, I have wonderful battle scars of varicose veins, wonderfully un-tan-able stretch marks along many unnamed body parts, and glorious wrinkles and gray hairs all put into place by children who I can point and name specific names to.  Each child graced my body with attributes that continue to make me the proud mom I am today.  Yeah, really.  I actually mean that.

In fact, here is something that will make no one squeamish if I note it here…  My first born daughter changed the color of my hair – like a bad hair dying job.  No, seriously, I kid you not.  My beautician can attest to the nasty line that my beautiful first daughter brought my way.  The second daughter (who is also my second born), changed my hair from stick straight to curly and full.  I’ve never needed a curling iron again except to tame the fly away curls that sometimes try my patience.  My last born, and my son…  well, he aptly made it all just start falling out.  Not sure what his deal was, but the day he was born it began falling out in clumps and did so for the next 3 months.  If I didn’t have so much danged hair I would have been bald!  Now?  Well, between surgeries, illness, and stress, it’s just it’s own shade of whatever I choose it to be.  Yep.  It doesn’t have a color I like any more.  The curl I can deal with… but prematurely gray and odd patches of white?  Nope.  THAT is where my chin-up-and-out pride gets fiesty.  I wont be an old lady in the kid’s classrooms just yet!

Anyway – that’s just my “day in the life” for you today.  Next time someone asks you something very personal, and SOOOO none of their business,  just remember to laugh and blow it off.  (Don’t do what I did and obsess over it!)  What matters is not what’s seen in a mirror… it’s who’s there for those kids at the end of the day… and if you need it spelled out – it’s who your kids come and throw their arms around… (and act like you are the most beautiful thing they’ve seen.  And you are…  You’re mom!)

Here’s me and my last “baby” who was due ALMOST 9 years ago…  I gave birth to this precious boy on July 2nd, 9 years ago, and it was the final crowning achievement of my young motherhood, in giving birth to this guy.

I’ve got a lot of work to do in the next 10 years before he leaves my nest.  So talk to me again THEN about wrinkles and battle scars!  I am sure I will have more to say and to show off by then!!  🙂  But for tonight, I am gonna blow this off (yes finally) and let it go.

Tomorrow I’ve promised two stories, instead of one, read from our favorite book of the week,

“The Battle of the Red Hot Pepper Weenies: And Other Warped and Creepy Tales”

I think the the phrase is, “He who gets the last laugh, wins.”  And together, we will be doing lots of laughing!


6 thoughts on “I’m not a report, so what do you mean, “When am I DUE??”

  1. amers14 says:

    I get this A LOT! I recently replied to a lady, “I’m not pregnant, just fat.” She looked surprised and embarassed and I felt like crap. I always think people shouldn’t assume anything unless they see me actually giving birth. I suppose they could assume I was pregnant at that point!


    • Christi Campbell says:

      HA! Exactly! If I say my water just broke – you can assume I didn’t mean I dropped a water bottle on the floor… otherwise, please just assume I’m a normal mom with a few extra love lbs laying around. 🙂


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