Like a Man.

My voice, that is. Expecially when I wake up.

Somehow, in the night, little tiny elves sneak into my throat...create an Adam's apple, all the while scratching and stepping all over my vocal cords...decide against the Adam's apple, remove it and scurry away before daybreak.

This is the only way I can explain how I go to bed with a female tone and wake up sounding like Jack Nicholson. Well, the only reasonable explanation.

But, no matter how manly I sound on the phone in the morning and how surprised you may be to find out you are talking to a Stephanie and not a Stefan...I am all woman.

And being a woman, there is a little bit of territory that I have conquered that I am not proud of. I may just be a little bit of a tiny smidge of an eency weency tadbit of a...One Upper.

I HATE to admit it. In fact, it is one of my largest pet peeves about people. But, Scott and I were talking last night and he was telling my about his observation about some woman, especially now that I am pregnant.

He said, "I think some woman just like to hear themselves talk."

Now, at first, I wanted to throw my oven roasted chicken and potatoes with steamed broccoli at him (oh yes...I cooked that...from scratch...had to throw that in there since this is a once a month accomplishment) and spend the next 10 minutes telling him why I thought he was wrong and give 17 examples of how I am not like that. But, I stopped myself...barely... And said, "go on..."

And he told me that since I have been pregnant, he has noticed that so many ladies ask me how I am doing and before I am done answering, they begin their next phrase with "When I was pregnant...." and THEN I answer with a "Oh, I know! Now back to my pregnancy..." And THEY respond with a " I so get that! When I was 6 months along...." and I say "Yeah, at my 24 week appointment..." And they say, "I remember my doctor telling me...." And so on...both talking about our own experience...hardly taking in the other's experience...

You get my jist. And as much as I hate to admit it. I do like to hear myself talk. And sometimes, when I listen to someone else's story, I am already thinking about my past experience and am bursting at the seams to share it with them.

ometimes, I am not even listening to what is being said because I am just waiting for someone to take a breath so I can start my topic....about my experience...me...me...me...

Well crap Scott. As annoyed as I wanted to be and as much as I wanted to walk away thinking how great I am at listening and really taking in someone else's story without interjecting my own details, I couldnt.

The truth is. I need to remember that conversation with people doesnt have to and really shouldn't turn into Stephanie's storytime. And when someone talks about their wedding...or their birth story...or their horrible boss...or their dilemma with a friend...or their dogs... I should really just listen. And listen. And listen. Period.

Unless, Scott asks me what we talked about...then, I can say, "Oh, this happened to her...remember when this happened to me???" Baby steps people.

Anyways, the lessons are being learned everyday. And my lesson for the week is to remember that the art of conversation has little to do with me. So, maybe, just maybe, I should do something that I hate hearing people say.

Just. Shut. My. Pretty. Little. Sometimes. Manly. Sounding. Mouth.