The gossip today is all about my husband’s cousin who’s about 3 months pregnant with her second child, the first of whom is 8 months older than my son. We don’t know this of course because my in-laws are all secret-tellers and gossip-mongers and we get this update secondhand (or rather fourthhand if you’re counting the number of hands held to mouths to shield the telling of said secrets).
Because I so badly want to be a good person, I reacted pleasantly because babies are wonderful news, especially for couples who desperately want them. But because people find comfort in patterns and because Old World old people are extremely competitive and because by nature most in-laws are demanding of grandbabies, by my baby math* I have until early November to get myself knocked up so I can give birth sometime around Augustish so that my second child is yet again 8 months younger than hers.
This way, my mother-in-law can have the youngest grandchild and my husband’s cousin can continue to speak to me like she invented motherhood.
*Baby math: That thing where you count 9 to 10 months forward from every time you have sex, protected or not, to see if you could handle a baby at that point in time.