Rasperries, Store Clerks and Dramatic Effect

I am sitting here eating a bowl (a big bowl, I might add) of multi-grain cheerios with organic raspberries and it is sooooooo yummy. I recommend it as a late night snack to those of you who need late night snacks to make it safely through the night (9 months pregnant or whatever your case may be). I haven't blogged in a while (the 9th month pregnant exhaustion being my main excuse). Exhaustion tends to equal mental stagnation and I can't think of much to say (rare for me, I know. Maybe you just enjoy my silence for a change). But the raspberries have stimulated my brain enough to think of a story. It has nothing to do with raspberries, though lingonberry jam from Ikea was present at said story.

Yes, we were at Ikea last night with the whole crew in tow and I decided at the end of our "journey" (really it felt like we were on a pioneer trek) to pick up some of their yummy meat balls with gravy and lingonberry jam for dinner today. This is because I spent waaaaaaay too much money on groceries last week so I told myself I couldn't go to the grocery store until I completely ran out of food. There is even a sign by my garage door warning me about this. Since we were at IKEA and NOT a grocery story I can justify this purchase completely, right?

Anyway, I digress. This story is really about interactions with store clerks and is typical of my interactions with store clerks during this pregnancy and my last one too, for that matter.

So I'm at the check out getting the goods while Handsome treats the kids to ice cream cones (if they want hot dogs, they have to pay themselves). The nice lady at the check out (and she was nice, I am not being sarcastic) says to me, "You look like you're about ready to pop."

This is completely true, so I nod my head in agreement. "I feel like I'm about ready to pop! I'm due any day now." (or any week, but really the store lady does not need this detail).

She continues, "What is this your first? Your second?"

This is where things get interesting. I pause for dramatic effect then raise my eyebrows and tilt my head ever so slightly to the side. "Actually, this is my sixth." There's a faint unhinging of her jaw as she wonders if I am being serious. I just start talking away so she doesn't become too discombobulated.

"Yes, six kids. Its what I've always wanted. Most people tend to find this hard to comprehend, but my husband and I both come from large families. So really, I'm living out my dreams. Its a lot of work, but its a great thing to make a big and hopefully happy family."

She is slowly nodding her head as she processes this. Then she says, "What'd you start having kids when you were 10?"

I laugh and wonder if I really do look like I'm in my early twenties, because if I were, then the 6 kids thing truly would be shocking. "I can assure you I was in my twenties when I started." I thanked her and wished her a good evening.

This is end of my story. The raspberries are all eaten up now (though their fabulousness lingers in my pink milk). So I can not think of a wrap-it-all-together ending for this post. We're lucky I got up enough mental spark to write anything at all. And now back to some sweet silence and sleepy time. Good night. Get yourself a good bowl of raspberries and milk on your way to bed.