Chief isn't a weird name!
I've learned mostly from getting married and then being pregnant that in those two life experiences you really only hear from Debbie Downers... and heaven forbid you say anything to contradict what they say... because then they roll their eyes and ask, "and... how long have you been married?" to which I reply "a litle over two years" only to receive the all-knowing cluck of the tongue and slight head nod.
Now that I'm pregnant it could potentially be worse. I hear the craziest birth stories and about how awful my child will be and that my life is over and I might as well invest in some heavy under eye creams because I will never sleep again until they are 18. And OH LORD if I happen to mention that I am attempting a natural childbirth sans drugs with a midwife and a doula... here come the all-knowing chuckles and nods, as if to say "aw, that's cute."
But there are some light hearted moments in the midst of all these Eeyore women... for instance, there is a GFF within walking distance of my apt. I probably go there two to three times a week to grab something for dinner or get eggs when we run out AGAIN or whatever. It's employed by every overly-eyelinered sixteen-year-old in Moore, who also excel at texting while bagging groceries and loudly counting down the seconds until their shifts are over.
So, since I'm there so often, a lot of the girls recognize me. Or I thought they did, since I recognize them. One particular girl, let's call her Babs, has been my cashier on numerous occasions. She very regularly asks me how far along I am in my pregnancy and a few times has also asked what I'm naming my child. Ok, I know Chief is an unusual name. It was my grandpa's name and I don't know anyone else with that name. But darling Babs, oh so sweet, wanted to convince me otherwise.
"So, how far along are you?"
"38 weeks... only a couple more to go." I tend to add how much time is left because prior to being pregnant if anyone had told me how many weeks they were I wouldn't have been sure exactly what that meant. Not that I can't do math I just operate better with months. Less work for my brain.
"Boy or girl?"
"Boy."
"Yeah I can tell by how you're carrying him!" Ok if that's so true, why do you ask, Babs?
"Yeah, people say that..."
"What are you naming him?"
"Chief... after my grandpa. Kind of a weird name, I know."
"Oh no that's not weird at all! There are two other girls that shop here all the time that are as pregnant as you and they're having boys and naming them Chief, too!"
That is all.
Now that I'm pregnant it could potentially be worse. I hear the craziest birth stories and about how awful my child will be and that my life is over and I might as well invest in some heavy under eye creams because I will never sleep again until they are 18. And OH LORD if I happen to mention that I am attempting a natural childbirth sans drugs with a midwife and a doula... here come the all-knowing chuckles and nods, as if to say "aw, that's cute."
But there are some light hearted moments in the midst of all these Eeyore women... for instance, there is a GFF within walking distance of my apt. I probably go there two to three times a week to grab something for dinner or get eggs when we run out AGAIN or whatever. It's employed by every overly-eyelinered sixteen-year-old in Moore, who also excel at texting while bagging groceries and loudly counting down the seconds until their shifts are over.
So, since I'm there so often, a lot of the girls recognize me. Or I thought they did, since I recognize them. One particular girl, let's call her Babs, has been my cashier on numerous occasions. She very regularly asks me how far along I am in my pregnancy and a few times has also asked what I'm naming my child. Ok, I know Chief is an unusual name. It was my grandpa's name and I don't know anyone else with that name. But darling Babs, oh so sweet, wanted to convince me otherwise.
"So, how far along are you?"
"38 weeks... only a couple more to go." I tend to add how much time is left because prior to being pregnant if anyone had told me how many weeks they were I wouldn't have been sure exactly what that meant. Not that I can't do math I just operate better with months. Less work for my brain.
"Boy or girl?"
"Boy."
"Yeah I can tell by how you're carrying him!" Ok if that's so true, why do you ask, Babs?
"Yeah, people say that..."
"What are you naming him?"
"Chief... after my grandpa. Kind of a weird name, I know."
"Oh no that's not weird at all! There are two other girls that shop here all the time that are as pregnant as you and they're having boys and naming them Chief, too!"
That is all.
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