White Men in Business Suits Are Redeemed (Sort of)
That's right, folks, Baby M is going to be a big sister! At just a month over 2, she doesn't quite get what that means yet. We've tried to explain it to her, but most of the conversations go something like this:
Proud Mom & Dad: Guess what? You're going to be a big sister!
Baby M: *vague look of boredom*
PM&D: Are you excited?
Baby M: Chocolate Easter bunny!
PM&D: I know, honey, you want a chocolate Easter bunny. But what do you think about being a big sister?
Baby M: CHOCOLATEEASTERBUNNYCHOCOLATEEASTERBUNNY!
As you can tell, we still have chocolate Easter bunnies left over from April. And Baby M wants 'em. Bad.
Anyhoo. We figure she'll catch on in time, and since she's shown no tendencies to set fires or torture small animals, we figure she's a safe bet for being at least a halfway decent big sister.
For my part, I'm doing my part this time around towards meeting my previous record 65 pound weight gain with Baby M. Not that that's my goal, mind you, but it is what it is. When my mother was pregnant with me, she gained 20 pounds, and I weighed nearly 8 pounds at birth. Why are her genes not helping me here?
No bump photos yet. But a strange thing is happening. This time around, I'm getting bump-y in summer; with Baby M, that part happened in fall, so I was wearing big sweaters and bulky coats that covered me up till spring, when I was at last so ginormous that it would have been plain even to space aliens who had never seen a human being before that I was either pregnant or had swallowed a Volkswagon. This time around, I had to go out and buy preggie T-shirts and preggie capris and I'm just about past the 4 month mark and it's clear I'm PREGNANT. Clear enough that the other day a white guy in a business suit actually offered me his seat on the subway. Who says New Yorkers aren't nice people?
Now, you may wonder why I specify that this was a white guy in a business suit. Well, it's because during my last pregnancy, white guys in business suits were the one-and-only group of people never to offer me a seat on the subway. Not. Once. Lots of women gave me their seats. Ditto guys in paint-splattered overalls and work boots who looked like they needed to sit down a whole lot worse than even I did. I was given seats by all sorts of folks, but never, ever a white guy in a business suit. Even more than that...when I was what felt like 15 months pregnant and feeling large enough to occupy an entire subway car all by myself, a middle-aged Wall Street type -- pinstripe suit, wingtips, the works -- actually shoved me out of the way just so he could grab the last seat on the subway, the one I was heading directly for when he bogarted it out from under me. I planted myself directly in front of him and shoved my belly as far into his personal space as I could without toppling into his lap, but he resolutely thumb-poked his Blackberry and refused to so much as glance away until I was safely ensconced in another seat.
Which I had to wait for, thankyouverymuch.
But now, with my bump barely bump-y, by my standards at least, some very nice white guy in a business suit actually offered me his seat on the subway. Moreover, he's the very first person to offer me a seat this pregnancy. How sweet is that?
So, thank you, nameless white guy with the maroon shirt unbuttoned at the collar and charcoal-grey jacket. You've redeemed all the other white guys in business suits who were too selfish or snobby or just plain assholic to do the right -- or at least the kind -- thing.
But I'm still watching out for guys in pinstripes and wingtips.