When a lady is with child, the common wisdom is that we should coddle her, indulge her every whim. I'm here to debunk that destructive thinking. Pregnant women have too many yes men. What they need are a couple "No, ma'ams."
Case in point: When I was pregnant with my second child, I was convinced that we were having another boy. What did I base this on? Nothing. Zero things. Just a hunch. A pregnant lady hunch. We were planning on having two kids, we already had a boy, and I had mentally prepared myself for the eventuality of have having only boys. So I started planning our collective family life based on that assumption.
We always knew the kids would share a room for a little while, whether two boys or a boy and a girl. So that was not the issue. The issue was that during my seventh month, I started panicking about moving Boy Child to a big bed. All the "books" told me that it was important to make the transition to being a big brother easy on him, that I needed to get him a "bed of one's own" before the new child came and we shoved the baby in the older kid's "cribby."
So I knew we needed to get that bed posthaste, despite the fact that the new baby would be sleeping in Mom and Dad's bedroom for the first few weeks at least. What I'm saying is, we had time. We didn't need to be so hasty. But try telling that shit to a seven-months-pregnant crazy person.
Working under the (lack of) knowledge that we were having a second boy, I decided bunk beds would be the way to go. Our sons would share a room until the older one left for college and it would be wonderful. They'd be best friends forever. The plan was airtight. AIR. TIGHT.
Except. I had a girl. I'm pretty sure my kids won't want to share a bedroom until they're knees deep in high school. One of them will have to move into the third bedroom, meaning that the purchasing of those godforsaken bunk beds that would cradle my babes into adulthood was completely pointless.
And now I'm stuck worrying about someone falling off and breaking s/his arm whenever the kids' friends come over, and I'm stuck nearly killing myself (via either falling or banging my head on the underside of the top bunk) every time I make the bed.
So, please. Tell pregnant women "no." It's for their own good.
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