Today is Wednesday, which means I get to go, see my doctor and get a shot to help prevent pre-term labor. This morning I went in, found a parking space easily (score!) walked in and got on the elevator. It looked like a pretty easy day at the doctor's offices this morning. Instead of having a packed lobby of people waiting for the elevators and then being squished in there, the lobby was empty and there was only one other person to share the elevator with me.
Considering that my stomach has grown, I get a lot of comments from a lot of strangers. Most are the common questions "when are you due?" or "is this your first?" and things of that nature that are usually done with a smile and then an unwelcomed rub on the stomach, which is only unwelcomed because it is a complete stranger who I have no idea is a nose picker or not.
Today wasn't that way. He was a grouchy old man, trousers up to his armpits and all. His question was almost more of a statement "First or Second" to which I responded "third" and he got even grouchier with his "Good God! Why would you do that?" statement after. Rather than dignify his rudeness with any response I gave him the smile. You know, the one that has your lips turned up, forcefully and your eyes are shooting dangers as if to say "You are so lucky I was raised better than that."
Seriously, considering that you are not feeding, diapering, schooling, paying for or raising any of my children I could have 90 and it wouldn't be any of your damn business. And if you are from a generation where it was more common to have closer to a dozen kids in your family than a half a dozen, I really don't care to hear your negative opinion.