Are we there yet…

“Why yes, I am…”

I understand that it’s a potentially dangerous question, but if you’re going to ask, then ask. Twice within the last week, someone has awkwardly attempted to find out if Car is in fact pregnant, or if she just has a tapeworm.

Car and I took Sadie for a walk the other night and ended up at a junior high baseball game. Sadie helped retrieve a foul ball and I returned it to a man standing next to the dugout. He tried to pet Sadie, who as you know wasn’t having any of it. I told him she was just worried about her mother standing off at a distance and we walked away.

As the three of us walked away, he hollered, “Hey! Is she…?”. I think he could sense my perplexed look from 100 feet away in the dark, so he repeated himself, “Is she…?” and put his hands out in front of his belly like he was carrying an invisible load of laundry… Having recognized the international symbol for pregnancy, I hollered back, “Yeah, she is…”. “She’s going to need some extra attention,” he said pointing at Sadie. “It’s going to be tough at first, just be sure to spend a lot of time with her. I had to do the same when my first kid was born.” I guess he redeemed himself in the end by offering up a little wisdom. Too bad we can’t say the same for our second inquirer.

She was our waitress at the Outback, and it was obvious from the get-go that she was mentally wondering around in the bush, even as she took our order. A few minutes after bringing our drinks, she came back with the bread and popped the question. “Are you…?” Car and I just stared back at her. “Are you…you know…?” I could see the wheels turning in Car’s head: “Am I…beautiful? Yes.” “Am I…charming? Yes.” “Am I…brilliant? Yes.” “Am I pregnant…why yes, I am.” The girl then went on to acknowledge what a dangerous question it is and how bad it would be to offend a customer that was in fact, not pregnant. I’m sitting there wondering why that didn’t stop her from asking, but I soon realized she was without shame.

Car asked her how many kids she had, “three.” “Did you pick up your older kid while you were pregnant?” “Honey, I did it all…” We knew we were in trouble. “I picked up my kid, carried the groceries, moved furniture, had sex…we did it all the time. My husband said ‘it was like poking a bag of puppies with a stick’, we didn’t let it slow us down any.” The barrage of words that came after that statement were lost on me as I sat there trying to figure out what the hell she meant. A week later, I still don’t have a clue…

g