Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Foot in mouth disease

I have a terrible tendency to say whatever is on my mind. Except when it counts and then I keep it to myself. If you were hoping I'd be that friend who'd tell you you're husband is cheating or that your opinion on world news is fecking ridiculous and you shouldn't speak in public, I'm not your girl. I prefer to lead by example. Sticking my foot in my mouth at every turn so my friends have LOTS to gossip about behind my back thus forgetting their own problems, and perhaps keeping them from talking about subjects on which they are ill informed. I'm the Mother Theresa of helping people feel better about their lives, because they're not me. 

Half the things that come out of my mouth are deeply regretted, and I'm suspicious of my thought process as the words are unfolding. I'm pretty sure I know why I do this, but I'm not telling. Do you ever find yourself for instance, in the middle of a heated discussion, saying something that, as your saying it with so much conviction, you'd think it was the Gettysburg address, thinking "well, that's bullshit". This happens to me all the time. 

The other day I was talking to the receptionist at Jack's school. She's pregnant as well, and her due date is a week after mine. Every day on my way out, I stop and have a little polite conversation about the aches, pains, and oddities of pregnancy. Yesterday she asked me if I had my bag packed for the hospital (she doesn't really know me). I said yes, but it was just a few nightgowns, a cardigan, some hand lotion and a few bunny sacks for the baby. 

She said she needed to pack hers, but also didn't the hospital provide onesies. To which I replied "Oh, yeah, I don't even remember if we took clothes for the baby last time, but I got such cute baby gifts, I thought I'd take a few for this one, but then realistically I'll probably just hand him to the nurse and say HERE, YOU TAKE CARE OF HIM". WHAT THE FUCK?! The world began to move in slow motion as I finished my sentence. What are you talking about?!

You know how sometimes in email, tone doesn't translate? That's how I felt. But I was actually talking. As soon as I said it, I thought, "Jesus Christ's Crackers, she doesn't know you're joking! She doesn't know you can't fire your gardener or ask your cleaning lady to stop stealing the lemon fresh pledge (3 bottles in 4 months, and yesterday a full bottle of Mrs Meyers Verbena dish soap...maybe I should make her a lemony gift basket). She had no idea that you moved a 75lb garden pot and filled it yourself yesterday because you don't like asking for help. She doesn't know that when Jack was born, you kept getting into trouble with the night nurse for refusing to let him sleep in his little plastic hospital crib, and kept pulling him into bed with you so you could sleep all smushed together. She doesn't know that you wouldn't let your mother in law push the stroller through The Grove when he was 3 weeks old, because YOU had to be in contact with the baby at all times. All she knows is that you just got all Scarlett O'Hara on her, "Fiddle-dee-dee Mammy take that baby, Ms. Scarlett needs her rest", and now she has to smile awkwardly, and nod, and hope you go away promptly. I did. 

Then I realized that Jack's teacher was around the corner in the teacher's lounge, probably listening, and rolling her eyes at the other teachers, with a look that said "Can you believe that lady?! We watch her kid all day and OH, she's tired...bitch please"

I wonder if I sewed her a baby quilt in the next 2 weeks, she'd forget that I've revealed myself to be a complete ass. At least she'd think "that lady is a real ass, but it was nice of her to sew me this baby blanket". 

Don't let me forget to tell you the jujubees story sometime. It's a classic.. 

1 comment:

  1. I just can't imagine why you just say what is on your mind and then have second thoughts, and third and fourth.

    Love you,
    No second thoughts on that.
    PS: Don't make the baby blanket for the secretary. Fuck her, and anyone else who does not get your humor.