Age 32 – Realized I am no longer “cute” or “adorable”
Today we went to visit Mommy at work! It’s always good for the boys because there’s several people who genuinely like that two adorable, awesome kiddos have stopped in to break up the same old daily routine. Others politely ignore the small chaos tornado that rolls by, which is totally fine. I would likely do the same. Of course there’s a few people who give the subtle facial suggestion of, “GET THE HELL OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT!!! NOOOOOOOOOWW!” which is difficult to pull off in a subtle way, but I understand that as well. We try to keep it brief.
Something happens every time we visit that makes me laugh. Sometimes it happens a couple times, but always at least once. There’s always that moment during the conversation where someone glances over and notices that the escaped midget sloth has been standing there the whole time. It usually winds up like this:
“Oh Melissa! The boys are so big, and soooo cute. You guys make such cute babies! And William is 3! I can’t believe it, and now look at you! You’re so thin and beautiful, I can’t even believe it.”
*Carter bashful face*
*William panic face, wants to go watch cartoons at Mom’s computer*
“Oh, hey Ev. How are you?”
“Pretty good, I -“
“LOOK AT WILLIAM’S SHOES! SO CUTE!”
Now, don’t get me wrong, there are people in the office who like me. If that’s even the right word. Heck, one of Melissa’s co-workers was one of the first followers of this, my version 5.0a (let’s hear it for several consecutive days of posting people, I’m on a roll) blog. Still, it’s gotta be hard to figure out what to say to the overly shy, quiet, Michael Cera stereotype guy, who shows up like 4-5 times a year. I do appreciate the effort. It just dawns on me that I’ll never get back to that place where people made a big fuss about me. I’m just not that cute or adorable anymore.
I may need to start having my birthday parties at McDonald’s again.
Damnit. I hate McDonald’s.