At Least I Don't Have to Worry About Two-Headed Babies

When I was pregnant it was astonishing to me how the mere presence of a rounded tummy would prompt complete strangers to volunteer pregnancy horror stories. These were never first-person accounts, rather something that had happened to a friend's friend's cousin once-removed. But regardless of the degrees of separation, each and every story was relayed to me in all its gory details: "And then the umbilical cord wrapped FOUR TIMES around the baby's neck and turned it the most extraordinary shade of purple." Or, "There she was, only six months along and thinking she had all the time in the world to get the baby's room ready. Who knew that jazzercise could induce labor. Let me tell you, they barely made it to the hospital in time, and the inside of their new car never completely cleared of the smell." And so on. These tales were invariably told by complete strangers, whose thoughts on the matter had not been solicited.

A similar phenomenon is occurring now that I have a son in the throes of the college app process. I don't know how these complete strangers know that I have a son in the throes of the college app process, but they do. They say that horses can smell fear. Perhaps parents of high school juniors emit some sort of unique scent--some combination of panic and nauseau--that proclaims their situation to all the world. How else to explain the college volunteer stories recently volunteered to me: "Can you believe it? 1600 on the SATs and A's across the board and he didn't get into ANY of his colleges. Not even his safety. Last I heard he'd just been promoted to assistant manager at Starbucks." Or this from a woman I met in line at the post office as she waited patiently to send her freshman son's forgotten underwear back to Cornell. "I don't know who's getting in to college these days, but not many people that I know," she said. "Fifteen kids from Brookline High--all eminently qualified--applied early action to Yale, and not one got in. Not one."

My jaws clench when I hear these stories, and all I can do is comfort myself that Starbucks is opening stores at a rate of a dozen a day, so surely there will always be a need for assistant managers.