If You Chance To Meet A Frown...

"You're STILL here?" Such is the stuff of my Monday morning water-cooler talk at work. Yes, I'm still here. My child has not made an appearance... not that she necessarily should considering I'm not even due until Friday. Yes, I'm still working. I plan on working right up until I physically can't work anymore so I have the absolute maximum amount of time at home... with her... away from YOU and your draconian inquiries. No, I can't do anything about it. Despite what you've heard about taking long walks, spicy foods, funny movies and castor oil these babies demonstrate their free will whilst in the womb and they come when they're darn well ready. No I'm not afraid I'll go into labor at work. See how high she is in my belly? See how she's still gleefully kicking my ribs? That's a good indicator she is not headed south. So yes, still here and thank you for your support. For future reference, a gentle, "How was your weekend?" would have been SO much more apropos.

Now that I think of it, yesterday it didn't even begin at the water cooler. I began on the T when an MBTA employee approached me and asked if I was going to work. When I confirmed his suspicion, his eyes got as big as saucers. There was another such commentator in the lobby. Another in the elevator. Two in the kitchenette. For the morning meeting my fabulous coworkers said nothing, as if my being there were natural (shouldn't it be after all?). But then I visited a client and I had 3 more from the staff at that school. I was starting to see red and considering I weigh another 35 lbs than I did 9 months ago I'm thinking I could do some serious damage just by sitting on someone. When I got back to work there it was, THE question of the day waiting for me in the bathroom, the lunchroom, right outside my cube.

So okay, when life hands you lemons... I had to think quickly how to handle this one because I could feel myself going postal. Then I thought to myself, how would REAGAN handle this? My sister Reagan who could have fun in a white, square room with nothing more than a paper sack. What would SHE do? I sent out an email to the coworkers on my team: The person who most closely guesses how many "You're STILL here?" comments I get by the end of the day wins one WHOLE dollar! You wouldn't think a dollar is much motivation but let me tell you, the emails started pouring in. Perhaps everyone's brackets are totally shot for March Madness and they just wanted something else to wager on.

I called Brent, "I've started gambling." He was typically calm "Okayyyyyy... like on the internet?" When I explained the situation he told me it wasn't gambling since there was no risk on both sides and did his best to give me an "official" definition. Nonetheless, he supported me. The rest of the day flew by like a dream and the comments didn't bother me anymore. A coworker would overhear someone and then run up to me, "Did that one count?" Yes it counts... they ALL count! One unfortunate person tried to give me advice--Just stay glued to your desk; nobody sees you so they don't ask. Well, unless they plan on installing a toilet right here in my cube that's just not physically possible. Anyhoo, the next time I'm ready to rip someone's head off I'll think of Reagan... and what she'd do in a situation like that.

For the record, the final tally was 9 and surprisingly Brent had 5 at his work. Today I had my last pre-natal doctors appointment. If she doesn't come of her own volition, I will be induced in exactly one week. Win, lose or draw come Tuesday night *knock on wood* we should have a beautiful, bouncing, baby girl. And there was much rejoicing...