When I was pregnant with my daughter numerous rational and irrational fears invaded my thoughts on a near constant basis. The biggest among these was my fear of being impaled through the belly. I saw medieval death everywhere. The corners of furniture, unattended cutlery, sticks, toothpicks, broken bottles on the street-- it all made me nervous. You can imagine then, how horrified I was this afternoon. Violet and I try to take our dog Pixie for a short walk everyday. Usually, we just go two blocks around (the toddler and the maltese have similar stamina) and back home again. Today our normal route was interrupted by a spectacular fight between a very pregnant woman and (presumably) the baby daddy. I was about to turn us around when the argument moved away from the street and got quiet. We kept walking and moments later Miss Prego came back out to to the street with a brick in her hand and shattered a window in baby daddy's car. I lurched with fear for the unborn baby whose cozy womb was just showered in safety glass and then I looked down at my own visually keen tot and made for home in the opposite direction. I cannot imagine what my husband would have had to do to make me that angry when I was gestating Violet. By the time I reached my very stage, I was barely able to make a lap through the baby section at Target let alone cause collateral damage to the Kia (RIP).
17 hours ago
