The Millionth Time

Since I have moved here I have been bombarded with ejaculations of surprise over the fact that I have three kids. It happens CONTINUALLY. I mean, every time I go out. Last night my husband and I decided to take the kids out to dinner and we arrived in separate cars. As the kids and I were waiting for Dad to pull up, an older gentleman pulls up and looks at me and peers in wonder. He says the typical, "These aren't yours, are they?"

By now I just say, "Yeah."

"Really?" Wide-eyed.


He points at my oldest (who is almost as big as me, by the way) who is sitting on the other side of the bench. "Even him?"


"You don't look nearly old enough."

"Well, I am."



This happens all the time. No one believes me. They act like I must be ten or something.

I get funny with the responses. Last night I was just tired. I did not feel like coming up with anything fun to say. I like to say, "believe me, I pumped them out, each one of them!"
or, "Well, no, I am not really old enough."
Or my personal favorite, "Yes, they are mine. Yes, I am young. I was a child and then I had children."
I should think of more. It really becomes monotonous in my life, this trying to convince people that the kids are mine. This one lady at the grocery store asked me about ten times over and over to the point where I almost lifted my shirt to show her my stretch marks.

The deal is that no one my age or under thirty has kids here. They all have careers or are students. I say "here" because it is true of this particular geographical location. It is not true, however, where I am from, like Idaho or somewhere less expensive to live or something. So, I will just surrender to the fact that people think I am too young! It will be nice when my kids are out of the house when I am 41. What to do?

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