During my TTC years I bought a couple of magazine subscriptions, one for Conceive and the other (rather optimistically) for American Baby. I can’t prove this, but I’m pretty sure that one of them sold my name to a marketing company, because not long after that, I started getting baby related mailings. I received samples of formula and diapers, and ads for baby photographers and maternity wear. It was awful, but it didn’t stop there.
The marketing company seems to have got the impression that a baby arrived in our house at some point and so sent age-appropriate marketing as the years ticked on. It’s been five or six years now and the mailing have definitely slowed down. This year I only got a few catalogs for educational toys and mommy clothes, and brochures for a pre-school and a Disney cruise. But come the holidays, it all fires up again.
As if my mailbox isn’t already crammed with sufficient junk, I’m now getting fliers for family photos cards, and photographers who seem to think that the ideal gift is a portrait of my little brood. Little do they know that it consists of me, Mr. Fab, and a cat, and only two of the three would be willing to wear silly Santa hats.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, there are only 18 shopping days left ‘til Christmas, and I’ve already got my Bah Humbug on already.
I have the same issue. It’s been almost 4 years since our m/c and I still get a bunch of stuff. At least the formula samples have stopped. I’m blaming my OB’s office.
I’ve whined about this before, but now I’m expanding it. My mother-in-law invited herself to my husband’s firehouse Christmas party. I usually take the train in and walk across town to the party. That gives me time alone to decompress and be low key going in. As you all might imagine, attending a child-centric Christmas party can be hard on the infertile bitch in the bunch. But, I get to see my girlfriends and other members of the firehouse family that I really enjoy. This year, I have to ride in to the party with my BIL, SIL and their two kids because they apparently can not navigate to lower Manhattan on their own. If I told you how freaking easy it was, you would laugh. It’s just not going to be good. And I really fear that I will not be able to control my emotions when I see my husband with our nephew, showing him the firetruck, the tools, etc – generally doing all the things he would do with our child, if we had had one. I fear I’m going to be heading into that party all keyed up and stressed and it will just devolve. And what really gets me pissed is that my husband never asked me how I felt about any of it. He just did it and I have to fall in line or look like a selfish bitch. It’s nice to be able to whine about it here.
That sucks. I’m so glad I’ve never had those catalogs etc. And Kate – I often find the emotions tough when I see my husband with children, or worse, avoiding children because it hurts him. So I sympathise.
My Whiny Wednesday is actually a whiny thursday about having a too-winey-Wednesday evening and going through much of today with a slight headache.
I DO want to know which ones of the three are willing to wear a santa hat 🙂 (my guess is your husband and the cat…. :-))
Yes, it’s Thursday, but I’m feeling whiny.
So… I’m the one who designs the cards, updates the mailing list, stamps and addresses everything, and delivers the whole bushel to the post office. My (darling) husband just signs his name. So…I’m finding it annoying that I’ve been told that our return address should read: Mr. & Mrs. John Smith — and cards coming to us are addressed to Mr. & Mrs. John Smith. I have an identity beyond just being his wife! AND I do all the darn work!!! And while I’m at it, the most insulting card I ever received was when I was single and my friend (still a friend) had attached a label that read: The Guthrie Family. Instead of peeling it off or getting a new envelope, she just scribbled over “The” and “Family” (yes it was still readable) and wrote “Kathy” above it. Think, people!
[…] This post was originally published on December 7, 2011 […]