‘Tis the season and I’m feeling salty. Ever get that way? I’m not sure why now, maybe it’s all the emotion of the holiday? But here’s what happened.
Friends of ours found out a while back they were pregnant. We knew this early on ONLY because we live very close to each other and there was a panicked miscarriage moment* and we were called to babysit their other child while they rushed to the ER (turned out fine—just a little issue).
But only recently did they find out the gender of this child. They were very secretive about the whole thing but I don’t disagree with them, it’s their personal business. What bothers me is this. When they finally knew the gender they had a whole list of people to call to tell the news to personally. Doesn’t that sound nice? Yeah. We were day two of calls. Now before you judge me too harshly, listen to this.
I asked hubby, hypothetically of course, if we were to get pregnant who would we tell first?
“Your parents. My family.”
“Yes, and then who?”
“Mickey and Mable*.” (*Both fictitious names, well sort of. They were the names of the first birds my brother and I owned as children. Mine lived about a week. But I digress.)
Exactly. They would be on our first page, right near the top of people we would call with the good news.
We are their ‘day two’ people.
More than anything it hurt my feelings. I’m not so sure my husband actually put any amount of thought into it all. Leave that bit to me.
We’ve lived in this place just over four years and Mickey and Mable* (remember, pseudonyms-those names for people would be ridiculous) are about the closest friends we have, I thought. We did have another set of friends, who definitely made the top of the call list but they had to get on with their lives and enroll in med school in a far away country. No joke. They’re back around town actually after a year hiatus and we’re geeked. But that’s it.
So, that makes me salty but more so sad. It’s that family and friends time of year and I find myself, in the beginning of my thirties, wondering what I have to show for myself? I think of how my family was growing up. My parents had great friends, mostly from our neighborhood, who always got together to celebrate this and that. And now it’s Christmas-the perfect time for getting together—yet I’m making cookies alone.
I don’t want encouragement or prayers, I just want to be salty and to get it out there. I think it flipping* sucks (*was this close to using another word, but I refrained) what I’ve made of my personal life. I know it’s my fault. I’m too picky and love being home too much and blah blah blah blah blah. Why is it when you’re a child making friends is so easy and you could change at the ding of the recess bell who was your best friend? But as an adult it’s seemingly near impossible. Or is it just me?