There are days that I feel my blondness to the tips of my neurons. Today was one of them. Luckily, the moments don't appear to affect how others think of me. My husband still dated me even after he heard me repeatedly asking what the punch line was to this blond joke:
How can you tell when a blond had an orgasm?
In all honestly, I kept asking, "What's the punchline?" even after the entire class was yelling "Who cares?". (And that is some funky punctuation going on in that sentence.)
After taking my eldest to school this morning, two of the dads and I were talking in the parking lot. One of them was commenting on how I manage to get three kids out of the house in the morning. My 1 1/2 year old was just a bit on the fussy side. He said something like "I guess this is what we are facing soon."
It wasn't until five hours later that I thought, Are they pregnant? Was he trying to tell me his wife is pregnant? I thought and thought on it until I saw his wife at school pick-up. I took the direct route and just asked if she was pregnant. Whew! She is. Of course, I gave my hearty congratulations and a hug.
All of this made me realize something about how I would have congratulated the dad. I would have said, "Great." That's it. No hug. None of the long, often misspelled congratulations. He would have just gotten a great. I believe that is because I would feel weird giving the full congratulations to the man for managing to have a sperm reach the egg. (If I knew that infertility was an issue that would be different.)
But, a woman. Oh, she deserves all the glory in this. She's the one with the really tough job. She gets the hug and the congratulations.