That serves you right

When I got pregnant at the age of 18, having a boyfriend who was officially an infertile one, I maybe heard that phrase for the first time in conjunction with my family-to-be: That serves you right.

Of course I totally understand that having sex (with an infertile man who by the way has been my first steady boyfriend) is absolutely something that dares your fate. At least if it’s pre-marriage. And to think infertile could maybe be an equivalent for ‘not-able-to-make-little-babies’ was definitely dumb enough. So I really deserved to be pregnant. AND I deserved this really ugly sickness during the whole fucking 9 month of my pregnancy. It was my own choice to carry this child to term. So it served me right.

Hey, guys. Do you really believe this shit? Hello? Not being a specialist with malfunctions of male ball sacks is overly dumb and therefor to be punished with lifelong retaliation?

Well. Maybe this was a non-recurring happening, one could think. But I heard this damned phrase way too much in my life. Actually I heard it so often that I meanwhile have the tendency to become a really REALLY grumpy person (grumpIER yet that I’m usually known for) when someone likes himself to produce this funny phrase. Again.

That's nothing in comparison with my wrathing...

So, what the fuck do people mean telling ‘it serves me right’ that our dog is stressing me? It’s not that I’m usually making up different worst-case-scenarios if there are any decisions to be made (like whether to buy a dog). E.g., I KNEW a dog needs to poop. I knew, a dog needs to have medical attendance from time to time. (I did not know that I sometimes would have to help him to get rid of some long blades of grass sticking halfway in and out his … I think you got the image.) But I didn’t mean to take a dog who is completely nuts. That was not my first intention. I never dreamt of a mangy mutt that actually barks in the middle of the night when there’s a fucking bike driving by. Or that has so much energy within its little body that you could pimp a lake of water to red bull.

Troublemaker #1 is restrained by family's daddy. Struggles are to be expectated.

Also, I did not choose my third kid Emily to be sticking to my leg for 2 years without giving me a break to pee alone. What I did choose is to have another baby. Nothing more. Nothing less.

OMG. Somewhere along this ride I must have lost grip on my mommy's leg. Don't know how to get up with only 2 trotters remaining.

Can you please tell me why everything that’s nasty enough to make my day serves me just right? Until now I never heard it serves me right to have 3 healthy kids, a loving husband or to pass my exams. Sometimes I’m fighting hard against the impression that you just like bashing me. Such a good friend you are. But maybe you just think it’s a witty and funny reply to sorrows and difficulties I mentioned. Let me tell you: it’s not. It’s depressing. Kind of kicking the ones lying on the floor. Of course I suppose that serves me right. I don’t exactly HAVE TO talk about trouble making things. But I somehow thought a social network is a great opportunity to get a little bit of support.

Really, guys. Don’t blame me for this outburst. So what if you, exactly you, feel a little bit like I’ve spoken directly to you and no one else but you? After all, you DID choose to read this post on your own. What could I say but: ‘That serves you right.’

Don’t forget your cheerleader outfit the next time we meet.