Last week I had an appointment with the "Baby Doctor" (OBGyn) whatever they are called for a check up. If you have been pregnant before you might know the process. During these visits you come in pee in a cup and wait in the waiting room... sometimes it takes awhile for them to call you back. When they do call you, the nurse checks your blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat.
Then the Doctor comes in to the measures your belly and checks you over. This is what happens to me. He measures my belly then says, "Well, you are measuring good, your pee is good, and baby's heartbeat is good. You are good. Do you have any questions for me?"
What that was it? Seems like a waste of time. Since I spent that time waiting for him in the waiting room. I decided to start think of some questions. I don't know what yet, but I was going to make him spend time with me, dang it. Ok I have had 3 babies already and I pretty know almost everything, about this stuff.
I asked, "How will the C-section go?" - I have had 3 C-sections.
I asked, "Did you know that I want my tubes tied?" - I know I told them already and they wrote it down.
I asked, "I am running, Should I keep running?" - Knowing that if he says I can't I was going to anyways.
I asked about the prenatal vitamins. - Yes the nurse told me all about them already.
I made him spend at least 10 more minutes with me. I felt a little satisfied.
Although, I had a pleasant time waiting for him in the waiting room. After I signed in and before I sat down I readjusted myself. I apologized to the ladies that were sitting there. Maternity pants do not like to stay up. One really pregnant lady said that she understands and we talked about maternity clothes for awhile until she was called. A lady that was sitting close by would just smile and occasionally laugh at our jokes.
After they both left I decided to look through a magazine. I found an article that caught my eye, "The Pleasures of Making a Home,
Read one writer’s take on the joys of being a domestic goddess."
In the 50's woman were homemakers and then in the 70's women started to burn their bras and we all became working women. Well, more woman are staying at home more. The writer says how her mother doesn't understand the choice of having a big family and staying at home.
She writes, "I never took a home-ec class, but I smoke my own salmon, make jam, butcher wild meat, garden, bake, cook a lot of family dinners and raise laying hens....While my mother had her coffee on the first day of school in the faculty room, I treated myself to coffee with friends at Mountain Market & Cafe on that blissful morning every year when my five children were all back in school. "
She also goes on to tell that after coffee they would go blueberries picking. One year while they were picking,
"Just then, one of my companions yelled, “Get the camera quick—I’m taking off my clothes while the sun is out....Turns out that she had arranged for another one of the ladies to take a picture of her while she posed picking matching blueberries as an anniversary present for her husband.”
At this paragraph I started to giggle in the waiting room. A lady looked at me. Maybe she thinks that I am a hormonal or at least crazy. I didn't care about her, I kept on laugh and this time louder.
She then writes, "Driving home, the chatter veering randomly as always, we talked about what we all had written on the annual school registration form in the space labeled Mother’s Occupation. I had left mine blank. One of us put homemaker; another had written housewife. “I didn’t like those options,” declared the friend who took the photographs. “I wrote domestic goddess.” We all laughed. How appropriate, given our photography escapade."
I never inspire to have big family and be a stay at home mother, but here I am. Maybe it won't be so bad. One day I can take a picture of me in an apron for my husband. I wouldn't mind being a Domestic Goddess.
Caption: "My mom in two words Domestic Goddess"