Simon generously surprised me this weekend with some fancy kidless hours at the fancy kidless spa. In between diagnosing my chin with congestion and my forehead with dry patches, the kind lady doing the facial asked if I had any kids ... their ages ... yadda. When I answered with you know ... the truth ... a boy and a girl ages this and that she confidently replied,
"Oh! So you're done!"
and then I had the exact same conversation with the exact same response with the manicure lass and the pedicurist.
While I don't think this statement is quite as rude as the, "was it planned?!" query, I think it flirts with the same level of intimate life details that are understandably not for sale ... or am I just weirdly private? Was my awkward shock merely a symptom of how little I leave the house and these types of verbalized nosy assumptions are simply the norm?
Of course, the truth is ... I don't know if "I'm done." I most certainly hope not but unfortunately I don't have an accurate crystal ball detailing my child bearing future nor am I any sort of omniscient she-god (or um ... goddess). We know that every child is an absolute blessing and the possibility of any future offspring is not something that we can ever take for granted. So we don't.
Believe me, I've had more than a zillion moments of exasperation and near desperation these past several weeks with the two kidlets. There have been several times when they've both been crying and both needed something right this exact second or we'll exxplode and it will be all your fault you horrible mother and it's been tough and more draining than I could have ever predicted. But even in the most frustrating hour of the most frustrating day I can't imagine making any sort of "I'm done!" declarations.
In the fancy kidless moment, I was awkward and answered their gutsy assumptions with a little (faux) chuckle and a,
Maybe next time I'll be brash and ask when their last pap smear was...just as rude and intimate of a life deet in my mean opinion.
*photos are from a kidful outing we took to the art museum this weekend. The trip lasted about 19 minutes before Julia melted. It might look like she is being cute and cuddly with Simon in the bottom photo but she was really mid-tantrum and her pants were completely saturated with yet another casualty of overhydration by diluted juice baba.