Preggie Parking...

So today after work, after what I think has been a particularly taxing week due to 3 straight days of offsite meetings and a day back in the office with disgruntled people popping in every half hour asking if I was ignoring their email / phone call etc, despite an out of office message.

Anyway. I drag my pregnant, tired self to the grocery store after work. This week I am struggling with a over achieving body that has decided to produce too much of a hormone called "relaxin' (yeah, relaxin') that is making my ligaments relax ALOT. Sounds alright, but instead of joining Cirque de Soleil, its more like waddling and shuffling like an old lady and hoping my hip isn't going to fall off the bone like a well cooked turkey leg.

ANYWAY. I pull up to Superstore, dreaming of using the Expectant Mother parking right by the door, which I have yet to use, but today I REALLY needed it.

SO. Just as I am pulling up to the aisle where the primo parking spots are, a Mercedes with Quebec plates whips into one of the spots and a 50 year old woman jumps out and heads in. Quelle Bitch. At least there is another spot. Until another stupid Quebec driver in a big minivan cuts me off and takes up the other spot. So I think, ok, minivan, maybe this woman has a brood of unruly savages with her and she's pregnant again. NOPE. Out jumps a 30 something in short shorts and a flat stomach, not a kid in sight. If I wasn't so mad I would have cried. If I wasn't so tired I might have had the energy to key her Caravan.

PREGNANT PARKING is for PREGNANT people who are hot and tired and swollen and hormonal and maybe a few frazzled new mothers who will fantasize about laying their baby on a nice soft rack of Wonderbread with a My name is... note if they don't get some Tylenol, a frozen lasagne and baby gas medicine fast.