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Monday – Mediocre Moms Need Love, Too
Mar. 1st, 2010 02:57 pm.
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Six years ago when I worked for the web-based company, I used to go lean up against the wall between Astro Joe’s desk and Señior Matt’s* desk whenever I had something I wanted to announce to them. The first time I did this was shortly after we moved into the new office, when I assumed the leaning position with my arms stiff by my side while I stared up at the ceiling, and blurted out that there was something I needed to tell them. The blood drained from their faces: they both thought I was about to quit.
“I’m knocked up,” I said instead, “You’re going to need to get a temp in here in a few months.”
They let out the breaths they had been holding.
“Congratulations!” Astro Joe said, and Matt concurred. I looked at both of their faces to see if they were being sarcastic or not, and forced a smile when I saw they were sweetly sincere. I was nauseous, feeling fat, and uncertain about whether I was really cut out to be a parent. Every time someone congratulated me, it sounded like a sarcastic thing to say. No one ever meant it sarcastically, though.
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.
.
Six years ago when I worked for the web-based company, I used to go lean up against the wall between Astro Joe’s desk and Señior Matt’s* desk whenever I had something I wanted to announce to them. The first time I did this was shortly after we moved into the new office, when I assumed the leaning position with my arms stiff by my side while I stared up at the ceiling, and blurted out that there was something I needed to tell them. The blood drained from their faces: they both thought I was about to quit.
“I’m knocked up,” I said instead, “You’re going to need to get a temp in here in a few months.”
They let out the breaths they had been holding.
“Congratulations!” Astro Joe said, and Matt concurred. I looked at both of their faces to see if they were being sarcastic or not, and forced a smile when I saw they were sweetly sincere. I was nauseous, feeling fat, and uncertain about whether I was really cut out to be a parent. Every time someone congratulated me, it sounded like a sarcastic thing to say. No one ever meant it sarcastically, though.
( Text goes here )
