Recently, I received a lovely piece of junk mail from a formula company that was very specifically marketed to someone expecting a baby.
(Make a big fuss and refuse to give out information about your due date/name/etc at maternity stores, otherwise you WILL get a ton of these things.)
After my initial *twitch twitch* reaction to it, I posted about it on facebook attempting to be all "lookie, wasn't that funny" and not "omg it's my worst nightmare coming true". You know, to show the world that I have a lovely sense of humor about life and not a sneaking suspicion that I'm living proof of Murphey's Law in action or on a poorly written reality tv show that I just don't know about yet.
And then, one of my friends asked "Are congratulations in order?".
I *think* he was kidding.
Irregardless, I'm really starting to believe that "congratulations" is NOT the thing to say to someone in the middle of a divorce living in their parents' basement and unexpectedly expecting to soon have their third child under the age of 5.
I don't know about you and your household, but I try to imagine what bringing home another newborn would entail and all the crazy logistics and my already chronically exhausted state.... and then pretty soon I'm hyperventilating and going at the Costco-sized Nutella jar with a large spoon and muttering all sorts of things about why some species eat their young and being cursed with over-active ovaries.
No no, a pregnancy right now would not be cause for congratulations.
However, I would be greatly touched by any and all sympathy cards that made it my way, as they would be infinitely better than formula samples any time.
And just for the record: Marty is NOT pregnant, and is holding every intention of remaining that way for an indefinable period of time well past the foreseeable future.
You know, just to make sure things are nice and clear(ly not pregnant) here.
*cough cough* Are you listening formula companies?? *cough cough*