Yes, yet another chapter for my cousin's brilliant book.
But first, greetings to all of you from the world of the sleep-deprived, dazed, yet somehow-still-giddy. Yep, I'm truly and completely a new mother. Mind you, I'm still biased in my belief that my daughter is unbelievable... but I will acknowledge her one obnoxiously obvious shortcoming this early in her life: her inability to distinguish between night and day. Oh yes, nights - that time previously reserved for restful sleep - have now become my three-week-old daughter's perpetual play-time. (I can almost hear all of the parents out there collectively saying: "Welcome, Karla, to parenthood").
But despite our exhaustion, Gracie and I have ventured outdoors every now and then. And it was on one such occasion that I had the opportunity to meet a man I like to call "Ernest," for he so earnestly "tried" to say the right thing...
But first, a bit of background: when is the last time - truly, the last time - you saw a Hollywood celebrity step out into public days, even weeks, after giving birth? I dare write, never. It seems the managers, agents and overall "people" of the likes of a Kate Hudson, Jessica Alba, even a Julia Roberts, have advised their clients to avoid the prying eyes of the paparazzi during their postpartum days. And with reason, I suspect. I mean, how in the world could those image-conscious celebs appear like their promotional posters in those first days after giving birth? It just isn't natural - even for people with personal trainers and private chefs.
And if it isn't natural for them, imagine what it's like for the rest of us - going it alone, without the benefit of chefs, trainers or "people." Not to be defensive here, but for the normal women among us - it takes a little time... weeks, even months. Or at least, that's my humble opinion.
Apparently, my friend Ernest disagrees.
In Ernest's defense, he means well and, as it turns out, he's also a loyal KARE 11 viewer. He also happens to bag groceries at my local grocery store. As such, he has watched - both on T.V. and in person - my pregnancy's progress. And as anyone who tuned in can attest: that progress was plentiful and obvious, particularly in the final days leading up to Grace's arrival.
So anyway, more than a week ago - mind you, Grace was just two-weeks old - I stopped in to pick up a couple quick groceries. To my delight, Ernest was working the lane with the shortest line. I figured it would be nice to introduce him to my daughter, given that he'd shown interest in her imminent arrival. Finally, the moment came when I was checking out... and while I waited for Ernest to acknowledge the car seat in my cart and the baby within... he instead looked at me and said the words every new mother longs to hear.
No, he didn't congratulate me on my daughter's arrival. No, he didn't muse on how much she favored me. Nor did he did he speculate on how exciting and exhausting the change has been. Instead, Ernest said - with concern written all over his face: "Oh my goodness, are you pregnant again?"
Friends, I kid you not. Now, to be clear, I didn't have unrealistic expectations of how quickly I'd regain my pre-pregnant self. In fact, I was thrilled by the recent affirmations of family and friends and even my own assessment of my smaller feet (they've already gone down a shoe size), my "de-puffified" hands and face, and just my overall less "gigantic" appearance. But I knew - and know - it will take time and hard work before I fully shed the baby weight. It's a simple truth. A truth known and understood by many, but somehow, not my friend Ernest.
But lest I overly criticize Ernest for his honest mistake, I should first note how common it is. Truly, how many of us have assumed that a woman may still be pregnant without realizing she may have just had her baby? To avoid that conversational pitfall, I offer but one simple piece of advice: observe the age of the baby beside the seemingly pregnant woman. If that baby appears to be less than, oh, I don't know... six months old... then assume that the woman's "pregnancy" is instead due to the bundle beside her. Make sense? Observe that simple rule and you can avoid the potentially embarrassing mishap of my friend, Ernest.
As for Ernest, you can only imagine his horror when I responded that no, I was not pregnant but that my appearance was due to just having Grace. Poor, poor Ernest. Again, friends, all you need to do to avoid his conversational fate: look at the baby. Just look at her. Is she weeks old? Chances are, then, the woman is not - repeat, not - pregnant.
Days later, I still chuckle at my interaction with Ernest. Just as I continue to find humor in all the absurd comments these last nine months. Heaven knows, pregnancy and now the days afterward have introduced me to a new level of self-awareness, if not humility.
And so I brace myself for the next conversational mishap. But in the meantime, I'll just keep savoring these days with Grace. Yes, I'm exhausted, but I do know this time will go quickly. And so I'll enjoy my moments with her, be they at 3 p.m., or 3 a.m..
I hope all is going well in your world, and that you're enjoying the balmy weather. And for those of us tempted to complain about the steamy temperatures - do recall those days in January when we long for a chance to don shorts. Let us not complain when we actually have the chance to do so!
Until next time, do take care. And in the words of Mike Wallace, "do well and do good."