This week we headed down to the dirty South (judging from Jude's explosive poops) to visit with Grandma Janet (great-grandma technically) and Grandpa Gene for one week. I appreciated the time away from the constant inundation of computers, cable, cell phones to relax and, oh yes, attempt to study for the GRE's.
Jude and my grandparents immediately bonded. Grandma, many a morning, could be found downstairs in the finished basement composing songs on the mini keyboard with Jude or reading aloud about a recalcitrant bull named Ferdinand.
As his neck muscles are now fully developed there's barely any risk for the infamous head-banging. When I informed Grandma of the tornicollis, she simply remarked, "Well, the Dumpling needed quite strong muscles to hold up such a large head."
A burly firefighter correctly installed the baby seat since Jude's legs had begun dangling precariously from the ends. Like Jack's magical beanstalk, Jude's growth knows no limits. Grandma also snuck bites of macerated banana into Jude's forever rooting mouth. Initially, he made a disgusted face, but still managed to get some down.
Two days ago I decided to take a study break and venture out from the woods and into civilization. Fredericksburg, with its ubiquitous historic brick buildings and trendy shops provided the ideal hiatus from antonyms, FOIL and square roots. Grandpa happily strolled Jude from store to store as Grandma and I searched for a dress for her to wear to my cousin's wedding. It was a sunshiny, blithe day until I headed into an Irish-American store.
Maybe it was my own fault for wearing a flowing blouse that buttons up around my chest, which protrudes mightily, or because I assumed my grandparents were behind me, stroller in tow.
The lady, like a sly Cheshire cat, smiled at me before asking if she could be of assistance. I answered that was all set, thank you. Somehow my response got muddled as other customers entered the shop, the door chime ringing loudly.
"I think there may be some things you like over here," She tells me, assuming I need help.
She takes me to a room of green baby bibs, blankets, and hats. A shirt read, "Give me a pint of milk!"
"Oh, these are adorable," I say, examining a pair of clover-laden socks.
Then it happened. A response only five months prior that would have brought a smile to my lips, but today a source of great embarrassment.
"So, when are you due?"
What would have been just a check on the sheet of stores I visited, this particular one will forever be tattooed in my memory. Proverbial neon lights flash through my mind like the "Applause" queue at an SNL performance.
Literally, I was so shocked I fell speechless. I mumbled something about four months, not wanting to make her feel guilty over the prickly awkwardness of the whole situation. Then, I ran out.
Outside, I found my Grandparents sitting peacefully in front of a row of pansies on a bench eating dripping ice-cream. Jude barely glanced up at me as he nibbled the furry musical lamb Grandpa bought him. I could barely catch my breath.
Do I really still look pregnant? Yes, I recognize I'm not svelte thin and off my original weight by about 20 lbs, but pregnant?
When I told my grandparents what happened Grandma consoled me by saying that the top I was wearing looked like a maternity top, regardless of who wore it.
Neurotically, for the rest of the afternoon, I studied my reflection in the windows like a narcissistic attention-monger. Would I think I looked pregnant if I saw me going down the street? Her words haunted me.
Once, in Thailand, I did it too. My brothers and I rented motorbikes from a friendly couple who gladly threw in a few Singhas from their refrigerator without so much as batting an eye. She was thin all around save for a protruding belly.
I asked her in Thai how many months and she laughed, "I no have baby!" At least the Thai are far less sensitive to such matters, but I was mortified nevertheless and apologized profusely for my error.
Since, I have recovered, but I have to admit that it is a first I am not pleased about.
Once I finish breastfeeding Jude a major diet will ensue. Yes, major. Until then daily walks will have to suffice.