With news.
We have a pregnant neighbor across the road. While I've already forgotten what #1 Hubby said her name is, the husband is a Chris - like #1 Hubby, and like the other neighbor across the road. It's becoming a pre-requisite if you want to live in our street - your name must be Chris. Or Cris. Or Kris. Or Kkriss, in these days of idiotic versions of normal names.
I wasn't aware there was anyone living in our street young enough to procreate. We live in a suburb populated predominantly by retirees and pensioners. The Perm Helmet and Beige Slacks To The Armpits Brigade.
Apparently I've waved to the pregnant one across the road. This is news to me, but I am relieved my non-contact and non-welcoming non-friendliness has been polite. I sincerely hope it was a friendly wave and not a nose scratch mistaken for a wave, or a ranty tanty finger waving at the kids that was mistaken for a wave.
So the neighbor who I have never heard of (and has probably lived across the road for 5+ years...such is my involvement with the neighbours) is 37 weeks pregnant with her first child. Feeling all jazzed to have another youngun in the 'hood, I was all quick to advise #1Hubby to tell her to feel free to come a knocking if she has any queries or needs any help!
You know...since I'm so underwhelmingly unawesome at the whole parenting thing myself - why not offer up my nonwisdom to a first time parent?!
Also, notice I was directing #1 Hubby to go and relay that message instead of going over myself. Kind of makes it only semi-inviting that way. Because I would actually be horrified if she showed up on my doorstep without at least 2 hours warning so that I could
#1 Hubby was on his way out the door to relay my neighbourly message when he advised me he's already told her about my blog. So I clothes-lined him at the door, WWF / WWE wrestling style.
Hell to the no.
I wanted to smack him over the nose with a rolled up newspaper, like a bad puppy, while sternly reprimanding him "NO....NO....NO!"
I may still do that.
Now I can't go make nice with the only other person on my street who wears their pants below their ribs! Because, on the off chance that she may have checked my blog out, she'll totally know what a crap parent I am. That is, if the constant crazy woman always shouting from inside the house hadn't already clued her in to that fact.
I should just get one of these made up for my letterbox
So, to the lovely pregnant neighbor married to the other Chris :
How's about we stick to polite and friendly waves (or nose scratches) as we enter and exit our driveways? You see, while I was super excited to have someone youthful on the street...I really couldn't face you if there's any remote chance you've read any of my ranting and rambling on here.
Particularly any of the
Especially the
Good luck with the bundle of joy. If at any point I hear a similar
Best neighbourly wishes, PP and the other Chris Enc. Hand Signals 101
I've helpfully included this diagram for you so that we will be able to communicate from our moving vehicles. You're welcome.
---------------------------------------------------------------------PS : If your name is Chris and you have feral kids who enjoy last-minute 2 minute noodle dinners, and you don't really care about household neatness, and you enjoy regular Friday / Saturday / Sunday /
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PPS : In case you haven't heard, I'm looking for sponsorship.