Living With A Pregnant Woman: The New Rules
There are some things some people should know. And by some people, I’m talking about you, Miss. The one with the avocado-smeared face. The one with the impossibly cute gap between her two front teeth. The one who tends to consider herself the boss of me.
Firstly, I’m cancelling parenting for the next 6 months. I’m too pregnant to parent. Secondly, I have formulated some new house rules you must pay very, very close attention to.
1. Eating food. Let’s talk about that. You know those times you drop your food on the ground and I smile sweetly and say, “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re trying”? Those times I give in and permit you to navigate the bowl of food in front of you on your own? Those times I dress myself nicely and am kind and sweet and decent when you stain my outfit with whatever undetectable food item has not made it into your mouth? Honey, listen to me and listen carefully. IT’S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. Simply pick up the morsel of food between your thumb and index finger. Then put it in your mouth. Chew. Swallow. Return your hand to your lap. That’s it. That’s all you have to do. THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO. Your hands need not flail about. Your food makes no sounds. It has no special tricks. No bright colours. No buttons. No dials. It’s boring as. Your toys, THEY are fun to play with. Your food? YOUR FOOD IS FOR EATING. Good. Great. Thanks honey. I really think we’re getting somewhere.
2. On the subject of food – I’m quite certain you’re clever enough to start making your own. I’ve seen the way you reach up to that fridge and point that long, very long finger of yours towards it and demand “more”. I’m more than happy to leave things on the bottom shelf for you. Blueberries? Most certainly. Rice crackers? Knock yourself out. Don’t settle for a life less than the one you are capable of living, honey. You are ready to progress. If you can reach the fridge, you can become one with the fridge. On your independent little own. You must always, always return to point number one though. Food goes IN YOUR MOUTH or you will be sent to boarding school. Good girl.
3. When my eyes are closed, it’s for a reason. Closed eyes are not code for getting all up in my grill, or whinging. Heavens, no. Closed eyes means one of two things. First, I am sleeping. At least pretending to be sleeping, both of which you will be unable to detect a difference. Second, I am breathing. Yes, that’s right. BREATHING. For one hot minute I am breathing in-two-three-four, out-two-three-four because I read about it in a book. I read that this is a good strategy to combat crimson-red rage when little people are trying to take me down. So honey, if I walk away and sit very, very still and close my eyes very, very tight, that is code for you to pick up a cloth and start washing the dirty dishes. Thanks honey. Thanks for understanding.
4. Saying ‘mum’.. It’s cute. Really, it’s very sweet. When you wake up in the morning? Hearing a little cutesy “mum?” coming from a little cutesy room? It’s adorable. But it needs to stop there my love. You’ve got three mum tickets per twenty-four hour time slot. Choose them wisely, honey. THREE ONLY. One of which must remain as the cutesy first thing in the morning one. Two of which must never, ever accompany high-pitched hyena noises and DO NOT pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.
5. Lastly, your movements. They’re frenetic. Too fast. Too frequent. It’s time you learnt how to meditate. Or at least just lie in Shivasana for a while. Sometimes I get sick just watching you flap about the place. And the running. Oh honey, no. The running has got to stop. You need to cultivate peace and wholeness by going within. It starts tomorrow. Breakfast, then meditation. You’ll love it. Really.
Thanks for understanding honey. Love you. Carry on.
The Red Tent 
One Response to “Living With A Pregnant Woman: The New Rules”
[…] out she must have read my last post after all. Good Shivasana pose honey, although maybe try closing your eyes, just for a minute […]