Party Time, nonfiction edition

August 6, 2008

In my last post, I wrote about the most recent episode of Mad Men in which the infertile couple attends a party, and how in real life I am usually on pins and needles in social situations, worrying that people may bring up fertility, or more accurately, why we don’t have children yet.

In a couple of days I get to whip out the pins and needles for a huge family function.

As if the regular family members weren’t bad enough, all sorts of extended family will be there, lots of people that I have met maybe once and whom no one seems to like because they are genuinely despicable people. Also friends of parents, friends of siblings, so many people who barely know us and therefore may deem it appropriate to ask us why we don’t have kids yet when we have been married since the last century, or when we’re finally going to turn the parents into grandparents, or any of the other hundreds of horrible questions that we hear all too frequently.

I like to imagine that I will respond with some sassy retort (“The doctors say I should try to cut down to only 5 lines of cocaine a day before getting pregnant,” or, “Everyone who’s anyone is outsourcing nowadays; we paid $100 to a couple in India to have a baby and then raise it themselves; it’s so much more convenient!”, or, “Having seen all of the horrible parent-child relationships in this family, we’ve decided not to reproduce,” or, “Actually, we already had a baby, but I had to give it to this guy named Rumpelstiltskin”), but I know that I’ll just play it off and quickly change the subject as usual.

Last month, when I was briefly pregnant and found out about this upcoming shindig, I declared to DH, “Thank goodness I’m pregnant. There’s no way I could handle that party if I weren’t.”

Yeah, well now I’m not pregnant anymore, but I’m too chicken to chicken out.

My plan is to spend the entire party talking to the few people that I already know and can tolerate, avoiding the other 100 aquaintances and long-lost relatives. If that fails, I’ll head out on some sort of beer run, and then the store will be taken hostage by armed robbers and, what a shame, I’ll have to miss the rest of the party.


3 Responses to “Party Time, nonfiction edition”

  1. Nity Says:

    Ugh. I hate being asked those questions. You could always say, “we’re not sure, but we’re enjoying practicing.” My parents had me 11 years after they were married and my dad used to tell people that (it was a choice, not a IF issue) and it would shut them up.
    **BIG HUGS**

  2. mdep Says:

    I love your sassy retorts. Try one or two out and let us know how it goes. C’mon…

  3. Barb Says:

    That sucks. 😦

    Thanks for all the info about your east vs. west medicine experience.

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