Once a lady actually said do you want my opinion to which I said no thank you and you know she went right on and told me why I should start trying to have kids today.  She was adamant I should have 3 kids spaced 2 years apart each and on and on her opinions went.  I am sure she even chose my non-existent child’s college, but by that time I had swallowed an entire glass of wine in one gulp and was off to flag down the cocktail waitress.

Five years later and against all odds my 30-something year old eggs did the unthinkable and I am part of some kind of new club where moms welcome me with a different degree of acceptance.  Like instead of playing for the I put kids on hold for my career team I now play for being a mom is the only reason to live team and that means all kinds of moms like me.  This is actually great because to be honest this first trimester has me too damn tired to root for any team.  Apparently exhaustion has made me somewhat of a people pleaser.  So I’m in this club where the membership is free and like the mafia this is a once you’re in you can’t ever get out kind of organization.  I was just starting to enjoy my new status when the biggest unsolicited advice hit me like a mack truck. 

In casual conversation I mentioned that I had enjoyed a leisurely jog that morning and all of the sudden I got a look, daggers and all, that would have a person thinking I pulled a gun and robbed a bank while I was on my jog that very morning and was now a Pregnant Girl on the run.  But no, all I said was I am a Pregnant Girl who runs.  If I could have been kicked out of the mom’s club by this one woman who I happen to call mom then that would have been it.  The advice started flowing and it sure didn’t matter that I had read articles and talked to my doctor.  For every article I had she had one back.  For every reason I gave she gave one back.  We have been circling this way for the past two weeks and I just want to call it a grey area and move on.

The thing about grey areas is that they are always there, add in pregnancy and suddenly life is grey.  It starts in the morning with a cup of coffee then continues to lunch with the deli meat decision and ends with your roots growing wildly because some member of the club told you highlights are off limits.  If only we could grab a glass of wine and forget about the day of grey, but that wouldn’t be allowed either…or would it?

Wish you won?  Visit on Thursday and post a comment for next week’s giveaway.

If you want my opinion, which you probably don’t, but that has never stopped me (or your mother for that matter) in the past, ask exactly what their definition of help is.  Does help mean cook, clean, never complain and leave after one week?  Or, does help involve baby talk, holding baby while asking what’s for dinner then surprising you by deciding to go ahead and stay a month?  I have heard dream like stories of Mom/MILs that are like little fairies who do it all.  Then I have heard nightmares of dragon ladies who were formerly called Mom.

Are you accepting post-baby help?  From who?  Will they come right away?  Your mom or his or both?  Did you have a good or bad baby helper that you need to vent about right here right now?

Let us know and win a pack of Jolie Vie Thank You Notes, that way you can send us a note to say thanks for helping you keep the dragon lady away.