Author: Shannon

Today I got a taste of the terrible twos.

Our day ended with an epic battle between mother and son over the Easter eggs that he had strewn all over my parents’ kitchen.  I got him to pick up all but three.  Those last three eggs were still sitting on the floor next to the basket that they belong in when we left this afternoon.  Our drive home was a time-out.  He got another when we got home (as promised).

I read somewhere recently that kids this age are just jerks a lot of the time.  I’m lucky in that my child isn’t a jerk most of the time.  Apparently though, when he cares to make his jerk move (such as looking me in the face as I ask him to pick up the eggs for the eight-thousand and first time and saying “No” clearly and with purpose) he sticks to his guns.  I spent about 40 minutes of the last part of our day at my parents’ house putting him in time-out for two minutes, pulling him out and giving him a chance to put the eggs away, having him refuse, and then putting him straight back into time-out.

There was yelling (mine).  There was rude defiance (his).  There were tears (also his).

In the end no one really won.  All I can hope is that somewhere deep in his synapses he got the message that although he may have the capability to be a stubborn little jerk, he comes by it naturally and I can hang in there with the best of what he’s got to offer.

The other option is that I just leave him in the pack-and-play in Sarah’s bedroom with the lights out until he turns eighteen.  One more good day of this and that may be the option that wins out.

I understand that legally you are allowed to call us at our home (although we are on every possible do-not-call registry) because we have an account with you.  What I want for you to understand is that I can rectify that situation very quickly.

When you call repeatedly (and with rude people on the other end of the phone) after I’ve told you to stop doing so, you aren’t helping your case.  When every time you call you only ask for my husband (although the only account we have with you is a joint account, which in case you weren’t aware means that I also have access to this account and I AM CAPABLE OF MAKING DECISIONS ON BEHALF OF THIS ACCOUNT BECAUSE IT’S EVERY BIT AS MUCH MY MONEY AS IT IS MY HUSBAND’S) and when I identify myself you say you’ll call him back another time, you aren’t helping your case.  When you try calling back to the house FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES IN ONE DAY and each time I tell you that my husband isn’t available, then ask if I can help you only to have you nearly hang up on me (before I slip in yet another request for you to STOP CALLING MY HOUSE), you aren’t helping your case.  When every time you call (at last count this was 7 times in the past 2 days) you do so between normal business hours when it’s clear that MATTHEW CONNOLLY IS AT WORK, you just look like morons (oh, and you’re not helping your case).

Up to this point I have been very polite.  This is your notice that the politeness is not going to continue.  I am over it, I am over you.  What you ought to do is to pray that the next time you call this house you get my husband, because he’s much nicer than I am.  If you’re not that lucky I make no guarantees.

Sincerely,

Shannon W. Connolly

Liam:  [Belches loudly and with purpose.]

Shannon:  Bless you!

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Anyone who says pregnancy brain isn’t real clearly has never been pregnant.

Now I’m no “designer” but being in my second pregnancy has given me some insight into your profession that I hope you don’t mind me sharing.

First off, wanting to have a low-cut front (so as not to pinch anything important, like the fetus) does not mean that that same person wants a thong (really?  seriously?) or a backside that’s cut so tiny that you might as well have made it a thong, because it has the same effect.

Secondly, although it is true that many pregnant women (including myself) do not enjoy being bound or pinched, this does not mean that making a pair of underwear without any elastic around the legs is the solution to that particular problem.  The only thing elastic-less legholes accomplish is another thong re-creation (which takes us back to my earlier point).

Lastly, those tents that you used to declare the only acceptable maternity undergarment?  Remember those?  With enough fabric to clothe a small village?  There are still a few available options in this vintage style and they create the dreaded panty line straight across the gut, which is possibly less flattering than the usual location of a panty line (a problem for which the thong was originally invented, which brings us full-circle).

I know I am not unique in this area.  I am not the only pregnant woman who walks around all day long doing unladylike things in public in a vain attempt to rectify the uncomfortable situation.  So on behalf of all pregnant women, both present and future, I’d like to ask you to go back to the drawing board.  Otherwise a boycott’s coming and nobody wants that, least of all me.

Sincerely,

Shannon Connolly