The Mailbox Chronicles

I grew up on a very busy street with neighbors on either side who we often had to call the police on.  We once had a transient man make his home at our front door.  We didn't even live in a sketchy part of town, but we most certainly did not live an neighborhood.

In August when we moved to the 'burbs I am fairly sure Jay wanted to cry and I wanted to meet every person who walked past our house.  This is no different that most social situations we encounter.

We are the first house in Pleasant-ville and the communal mailbox is about 200 feet from our front door and thus we are the freaking welcome wagon.  Because of the unfortunate prestigious placement of our starter home we meet new neighbors daily.

Yesterday:

AG and I walk out to the mailbox and an adorable family is a few feet behind us.  I am wearing compression pants, an old hoodie, TOMS, and haven't showered since my early morning workout... it's a cute look.

I check our mail.

I introduce myself and AG, apologizing for how shy she is as she stares at them.

AG then crawls into this woman's arms with a please save me from my abusive mother face.  Awesome.

Then we small talk, I meet their sweet little girl, and notice her pregnant belly.

Me: Do you know what you are having?  
Her: I actually just gave birth.  We got back from the hospital today.
Me: (to myself) Crap... fail.  That's what a new mom wants to hear.  You pushed a human out and look pregnant.  Recover, Em, recover.  She isn't offended but don't say anything else stupid.
(outloud) CONGRATULATIONS!  It's amazing that you could leave your house and on top of it, not be crying uncontrollably.   

I am considering only checking our mail under the veil of darkness from now on.