I’ve read so many blogs lately about what strangers say to pregnant women or mothers. But it’s so true….we tend to get the same questions over and over, although, for me, they tend to be different questions for each pregnancy.

For pregnancy number four, these are the questions I get. I can pretty much answer before they ask, because each one leads to the next (same) question:

Question #1: When are you due?

I’ve started counting down the weeks now (less than three weeks!), but for a while, it was “the end of March” or “April 1st” (before the c-section was scheduled)

Question #2: Do you know what you’re having?

It’s a boy!

Question #3: Do you have other kids?

Yep, a boy and two girls.

Question #4: How old are they?

Five, three, and one (or if I’m starting to feel defensive, Five and a half, almost four, and almost two).

Then, the person will either say “Oh, that’s nice; two boys and two girls!” or “Wow, you have your hands full.”

Yesterday, I spent a *very long* afternoon going to Sam’s Club, the cell phone place, and Wal-Mart by myself. This week, a friend and I are making freezer meals…I love doing that so when the baby’s born, all we have to do is throw something in the oven and heat it up. It makes me feel like there’s one less thing I have to do after a long day with the newborn and big kids. Anyway, I had to pick up large quantities of a lot of the ingredients (hence Sam’s Club) and the stuff that Sam’s didn’t carry (hence Wal-Mart). And because I would be in town already, I went to see why my phone was acting up so much lately.

So, this all wore me out. That may be the understatement of the year, by the way. I’m sure I looked pretty miserable by my last stop, at Wal-Mart, because the lady behind me in the check-out line asked me how much longer I had, then unloaded my stuff onto the conveyor belt for me. Then, she jumped in and finished loading my bags back into the cart. It was all very, very nice of her, and I was grateful for it. But afterwards, I got to thinking…strangers have never helped me when I have any of the other kids with me. I could be pushing the cart out of the store with the girls, and stuff starts falling out because I’ve overloaded it. But even with sweat dripping down my face and the cart starting to roll away, people just walk on by. Unless I’m by myself. Then they jump right over and help me reload it.

I guess when I’ve got the other kids, people feel like I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it. And it’s easier to feel sorry for a whale of a lady by herself? I don’t know. It just made me think a little.