Tag Archives: family communication

My Uterus is Wearing a Catcher’s Mitt and Now We Can’t Go to the Beach, Part 2

(Follow-up to My Uterus Is Wearing a Catcher’s Mitt and Now We Can’t Go to the Beach)

Now that the day has arrived where my entire family heads down to the annual vacation in the Outer Banks without us, I think it’s important to revisit this conversation, first posted here but recounted for your convenience below:

Me (right after taking pregnancy test): “So…we’re pregnant! The only issue here is that the due date is August 26, literally smack in the middle of the Outer Banks vacation…”
Mom: “Well, we don’t KNOW that’s the due date.”
Me: “Ok. We do, though.”
Mom: “Let’s see what the doctor says.”
Me: “The doctor is going to say that’s the due date, because I used the exact same calculation method a doctor uses.”
Mom: “Em, let’s just see what he says, ok?”
(after going to doctor)
Me: “The doctor says the due date is August 26.”
Mom: “Ok, well let’s just see what happens.”

That conversation took place on December 18th, arguably with plenty of time to make some new vacation arrangements in terms of dates, but Mom preferred the “let’s just see what happens” approach, which I assume was wishful thinking that the baby would come a month early (not exactly a healthy thing to wish for) or a month late (not a thing, period), we’d still be able to go, and no one would have to put forth any kind of effort to rearrange plans.

Well, the vacation starts today, August 19th, and goes through September 2nd. I am exactly 39 weeks pregnant. My due date is still August 26th, despite my family hoping that the baby would decide, in utero, “You know what? I’m just going to go ahead and be a month older now.” Due to my gestational diabetes, the doctors will not let me go past 40.5 weeks, so if I don’t go naturally this week, I will be induced before the 29th.

All of this meaning that this baby has an indisputable, 100% chance of being born during this vacation. I, of course, can file this under “Things I Knew 8 Months Ago” but I guess sometimes it’s fun to take the “let’s see what happens” approach in the face of knowing pretty much EXACTLY WHAT WILL FUCKING HAPPEN.

Now, in my family’s defense, there was a major caveat involved in moving the vacation dates. We have been in the same rental house for about 8 years now, and the house is freakin awesome. We all love it. And the problem is that if we were to give up our two end-of-August weeks THIS year, we would then lose the house during this August block for future years. Since end of August is (typically) the best time for all of us to take off work and be there, we want to secure the house on those dates for the future, and giving it up this year would jeopardize that. So I kind of get it.

But the other way to look at it is that my family had a choice– us, or the house.

The house won.

(I originally wrote that as an extremely dramatic Sophie’s Choice metaphor, in which my family clung to the house for dear life and sent me and Eric to the gas chamber, but I decided to dial it back a bit. But still mention it here. In whispered parentheses. Where it doesn’t count as actually having wrote it, so no one can be offended.)

I also can’t help but be slightly resentful that despite over 25 years of our harassment on the topic, my parents have not just sucked it up and bought an awesome house down there already, instead of renting each year. Because now, thanks to my dad’s stubborn unwillingness to shell out hundreds of thousands of dollars (over a million? I don’t know what things cost) on a home he’ll realistically use 1% of the year, I CAN’T GO THIS ONE TIME.

That’s some fucking selfish, twisted logic, DAD.

But ok, again in fairness, I suppose Eric and I should take some responsibility here. As my brother-in-law Andrew pointed out right before hitting the road:

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Fair.

But honestly, in the Seychellois-rum-infused moment, we legitimately did not realize the due date would be smack in the middle of family vacay, because, guys, pregnancy math is actually pretty complicated. Math in general is pretty complicated!

I’m a math tutor.

Whatever, the damage is done, and there are lots of things to blame: Dad’s blatant frugality and selfishness; Mom’s nonsensical wait-and-see strategy; math; Seychellois rum; Eric’s sniper-like, one-shot accuracy; my desperate, aging, catcher’s-mitt-wearing uterus; God; Lerman’s Law (like Murphy’s Law, but only applying to Lermans); and, last but not least, the baby.

No, I’m kidding. We would never blame the baby.

She just better be a good one.

(Disclaimer: if you think any of this post is serious, I really can’t help you. I like to assume my base is more Hillary-esque than Trumpian– aka, smart enough to know this. But there’s always that one, and for some reason (anxiety) I’m still afraid of you. On that note, One, stop reading my blog. Try this one instead. )

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Thank God

Discussing the (later proven to be false) Emergency Missile Alert experience my parents had during their trip to Hawaii…

Dad: “So they corralled our whole hotel into the ballroom, about 500 people.”

Eric: “Was everyone panicked?”

Dad: “Oh, yeah. People were on their phones, everyone was calling their children.”

Me: “Funny, I don’t remember getting a call.”

Dad: “Oh, please.”

Me: “I’m just saying…”

Dad: “I’ll tell you what I was worried about…”

Me: “Dying?”

Dad: “Our tee time. Kept checking my watch to make sure we weren’t going to miss it. Thank god we didn’t.”

Yes. Thank god.

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Family Communication, Part 5

(loosely related to other Family Communication posts, all with the running theme that this family barely qualifies as a family.)

There was a faint rumor (aka, Steph mentioned it once) weeks ago that Mom and Dad were going to come to NY next weekend for Dad’s birthday, and the whole family was going to go to dinner. Naturally, no one has heard anything since. So I decided (like a fucking Lerman Family amateur) to check in with the siblings and see if anyone had information…

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As usual, no one knows a goddamn thing.

So I decided to go to the source, and brought Mom and Dad into the conversation.

Which just goes to show that in 35 years being a member of this family, I have learned zero things.

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9 years later…..

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P.S. Steph literally did nothing.

 

 

Insulting

I’ll admit, I’m terrible about talking on the phone. I just don’t like to do it. My friends, and my mother in particular, are always giving me a hard time about it, which is fair. I should call them more. I’m sorry!

But still, it’s always so insulting when I do speak to my mom on the phone and she makes a point to ask me if there are any major developments in my and Eric’s relationship that she should know about– clearly implying that if some kind of major event WERE to occur, she wouldn’t even know about it. Which is just insane.

She’d obviously see it on Facebook.

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