Various comments directed at me this weekend:
From a shop owner on Mass Street, after learning this is my third: “Let me tell you something no one else will: ALL OF YOUR BABYSITTERS WILL QUIT.”
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A college student who appeared to be 14, though I am sure was old enough to legally consume the drink in her hand: “I just love that you’re pregnant and wearing heels. Like, seriously, I love that.”
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A woman at the capital campaign kickoff, also upon learning this is my third: “We had three. BUT THEN WE STOPPED. Do you know how expensive college is?” (By the way, my reply here was, “Yes, I do, and that is why the University of Kansas announced a $1.2 billion fundraising campaign 20 minutes ago…”)
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Another woman I met at the kickoff: “Oh my goodness! Must be any day now—I hope you make it through this event!”
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One of the interns in my department: “When are you going to start maternity leave?” (My response: “About 12 hours after I go into labor.”)
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Me, at the grocery store’s meat counter today: “Shhhhh.”
It took me a moment to realize I didn’t have my kids with me, and I had inadvertently shushed a grown woman. A LOUD woman, but still.
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