“Are you pregnant?” is the question I know my grandmother has been dying to ask me.
You see, I’ve been horribly nauseous for the past two days, unable to eat any food and unable to work. I’m pretty sure I have a lovely stomach bug (thank you, daycare toddlers) that for some inhumane and ungodly reason, refuses to be purged from my system.
Of course, as soon as I mention the fact that I am nauseous to my family, they immediately suspect I am pregnant. I don’t even have the words to describe how annoying this is – especially since they won’t come right out and ask me. Rather, they less than subtly dance around the topic.
“Is anyone else at work sick?” my grandmother asked last night on the phone.
“No,” I said.
“Is Gavin sick?”
“No,” I said again.
“Well, that’s odd. Usually someone else is sick with the same thing, too.” Pause. “You don’t know what this could be? No idea?”
My grandmother has proceeded to call me four times in the past two days to see how I am feeling. Now, I know that she loves me and is legitimately concerned about me, but I promise you that she would not have quite as great an interest if, say, I had bad headaches or cold symptoms.
While I am still nauseous – and boy, is it fun parenting a toddler in this state! – I am most definitely NOT pregnant.