Very, very frightening me! Galileo Galileo!
Do you know what really winds me up?
For instance, when you finally pass your driving test (this time you didn’t run over a granny! Woop!) and you excitedly pick up the phone and reveal to one person the great news, and the next thing you know all your friends are texting offering words of congratulations without you even having spoken to them. (True story.) Yes, thank you for spreading my news, but i do have vocal chords of my own you know!
Or, for instance, when you find out (after a mere 34 tests) you are pregnant and your dizzy blonde mate, who you have to forgive, because she is your dizzy blonde mate, asks your mum, if she is looking forward to being a grandma? Before you have told your mum. (True story. Was months before mother spoke to me again.)
Or, for instance, when you push a 7 pound baby through a hole made for delicate manoeuvring only! Endure 65 hours of labour, followed by 24 hours without a wee, followed by an attack of the heebie jeebies and when you finally get 2 minutes to spare and log on to facebook, to tell the world of your amazing news, hand poised over your status bar, trembling with excitement, you notice with fury, some fucker has already spread the word for you. Name, weight, time of arrival. Everything.
It really wound me up. More so than the Russian doctor, who kept referring to me as ‘mummy.’ (I am not your mummy! Stop calling me mummy! I know I am Addison’s mummy but I have a name! You referring to me as mummy, while I lie here with my legs spread while you examine me, is freaking me out. It’s like a terrible porn film! My name is Lexy! For the love of god! As if this wasn’t awkward enough!)
I acknowledge, that because of the thunder stealer, my page was littered with over 100 messages of support and love and congratulations, all professing how wonderful my newborn must be and how they couldn’t wait to see photos and how it couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple, but do you understand my annoyance?
The messages of support were lovely to read but it twas ME who wanted to update my facebook status with the good news! I had planned this status update meticulously and daydreamed of the reaction for months. This was the biggest update of my facebook career for god sake!
I had planned to write;
The baby has arrived! Rock on! Pizzaface Doyle Ellis was born after 100 years of labour, at 8.40pm, weighing in at a whopping 4 and a half stone (so you see? I didn’t put ANY weight on at all really) The baby is gorgeous!
And then feed bits of information in dribs and drabs. Adding in sex and eye colour and real name a little later, after people have gasped ‘Pizzaface? That’s different!’ And rumours had spread far and wide of my name choice and discussions were firmly in place amongst everybody, as to whether Pizzaface, was a girl or a boy.
You know, I wanted to really milk it.
But what good would that be now?
I’d be like a Dognapper asking for ransom after returning the puppy. (Just so you know I would never steal a puppy.)
So thanks thunder stealer.
Thanks to you my first post birth status read;
My arse hurts.
What? Surely that was news too?
And surprisingly a fair amount of people liked it.
Steal that thunder.