Wednesday, August 15, 2012

That Awkward Moment When...

“Just tell them. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” This is the thought I consistently have when it comes to sharing big news with my parents. It’s usually accompanied by anxiety, sweaty hands, and bargaining. “What if I just don’t tell them? No… I have to. They’re going to find out anyway.” I suppose this might stem from my trouble-making teenage years. Or I could just be Pavlov’s dog. Let’s examine my head:

When my husband, Mr. Fantastic (Mr. F) and I got engaged, I excitedly called my parents to tell them the good news. They love my husband, and they seemed happy for us. Five minutes after we hung up, my phone rang again. It was my mom… “Are you puh-REGNANT?” Then, a couple minutes after that, the phone rang again. My dad. “Wellll, a lot of people I know are going through divorces right now… Do you know how high the divorce rate is these days?” Then my mother took the phone from him. “So what about going to grad school? Are you going to go get your master’s degree or WHAT? I think you should go to law school.”

Bye, mom.

When I got pregnant with Kid A, Mr. F and I were both out of work. I was a giant ball of anxiety. I was putting off telling my parents the news, because I was just not in the mood to be put in the hot seat about how I was planning to get a job in my condition. So I just didn’t tell them for a while. I did tell a bunch of my friends, though, because if there’s one thing that’s absolutely true about me, it’s that I can’t keep my own secrets. I knew I’d have to break the news sooner or later, because you just can’t hide 40 pound weight gain forever. I decided I’d tell them during 4th of July weekend since everyone would be together.

There I was, going about my business one nice, calm, sunny afternoon in late June, when my phone rang. There it was again, as if I had gotten into a time machine an shot five years into the past… “Are you puh-REGNANT?” Apparently, one of my friends told her mother about my pregnancy, and she ran into my dad at Costco and congratulated him on becoming a grandfather. My parents took it really well. If you consider “taking it well” to mean “screaming at me and telling me to call them when the baby was born.” Ah, the perks of small town living. Where everybody knows your name.

So that’s why, when a second line showed up on the pee stick this time, I was excited but a little hesitant because I knew I was facing a potentially disastrous social situation. We decided to tell our families early this time, because, you know… sucking at secrets and stuff… so we told them this past weekend. In a twist nobody saw coming, my mother was really happy and excited. “I’m so happy for you! I’m so happy for ME!!!” She went to tell my dad, and he said, “Yeah. I knew it. You’ve been looking a little [hand motions for ‘fat’] lately. I had a feeling.” Oh yeah. There it is! I knew I could count on you, parents.

That was followed up by Mr. F announcing at a family gathering later that day, “Yeah, you know, she peed on a stick… and then she didn’t get her thing…” This was accompanied by a squatting motion to represent me peeing on a stick, I guess, and also continued pointing to the crotchal region.

So that, my friends, is why I do not like sharing good news with my family. And also why I came up with the name for this blog. Welcome to awkward land, everyone! Population: me. I’m glad you’re here even if it’s only to point and stare.

1 comment:

  1. Lol. I love this. Also, can you post links to this somewhere or update us when you post? I can't seem to get it to subscribe?


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