Prior to this pregnancy, I would have chosen invisibility as my superpower, had a superpower been offered to me. Now, however, I am rethinking that choice.
See, somehow that specific combination of my I-always-knew-as-a-child-I-was-destined-to-be-a-fairy genetics and my husbands I-wish-I-was-a-vulcan genetics has produced a baby with the apparent ability to turn himself invisible. What’s more, his ability is so strong, that he can actually turn ME invisible while he is currently encased in my sore, loving womb.
This has been an incredible and eye-opening experience.
More specifically, I have learned that being invisible sucks.
People run into you all the time. Sometimes with heavy objects, like shopping carts or themselves. I have nearly been hit by a car more times in the past 7 months than the first 21 years of my life. What’s more, I’m actually more careful now- especially around motor vehicles- than I have ever been. While I once ran across six lanes of traffic hoping I was faster than the oncoming cars, I now wait tirelessly for walk signs at crosswalks.
As my child grows, so do his powers. I think the invisibility is strongest around my stomach, because people don’t even seem to realize it is protruding about a foot in front of me. They elbow it or swing their purse into it with wild abandon. One woman even rested her arm against my stomach while pouring herself a glass of lemonade, as though my stomach were a conveniently located lemonade-pouring armrest.
In case you weren’t sure, it is just really, really weird to be comfortable leaning against a stranger’s stomach.
When things like this happen, I often just stare at the offending party, speechless and incredulous. My stare does not correct them, of course, because they can’t see me staring. Sometimes I am so shocked that I laugh, which I’m sure creeps people out a great deal, seeing as I am invisible and all of the sudden there’s the sound of dumbfounded laughter coming from that bump in the air that they just ran into.
So if I were offered the superpower of my choice, I think I would just ask for the ability to control the superpowers of my children. That way when some new, strange things begins happening during a future pregnancy, I’ll be able to do something about it.
Recently someone on Facebook posted something that bothered me. I didn't fly into a rage and comment viciously- I've been working on not commenting right away- or at all- when something bugs me, because often firing off a comment in the moment isn't most gracious ( more on this here ). But I've been thinking about it, so here we go. This post was about moms with messy houses, and how there is no excuse for one. People commented largely supporting this- asserting that messes are the result of laziness on the women's part, and that unless you are disabled in some way, you have no excuse. "Especially stay at home mom's," one woman, a stay-at-home mom herself, said, "I want to ask them what they do all day." Another comment agreed that the more time you have at home, the more time you have to clean, and therefore less possible reason why it should be messy. In general, it seemed agreed upon that a few books on your floor for a short amount...
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