WackyMumof2
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- May 31, 2014
- Messages
- 1,165
- Reaction score
- 4
Labour Weekend for NZ means that our little family pub is usually run of it's feet. I can't complain. When it's busy it means I'm working instead of looking for something to do. But my God, Braxton Hicks for the majority of my 4 hour shift today. Couldn't say anything to the chef because let's face it, dudes don't get it and I would have been sent home. 
And my female workmate would panic and be worried about a baby being born on the kitchen floor. She has ZERO decire to rent out the womb so she can't really understand that its NOT labour. So I suck it up for at least a couple of hours and suffer in silence. Moving helps - a lot. Roll on 3pm and I'm out of there like a cut cat. Holy dang. No point telling everyone WHY I hurt when no one really understands.
And my female workmate would panic and be worried about a baby being born on the kitchen floor. She has ZERO decire to rent out the womb so she can't really understand that its NOT labour. So I suck it up for at least a couple of hours and suffer in silence. Moving helps - a lot. Roll on 3pm and I'm out of there like a cut cat. Holy dang. No point telling everyone WHY I hurt when no one really understands. 
