I am now (ahem) eight months pregnant. When you are that pregnant, one of the privileges that you have obtained it the ability to call and whine to your mother(s), grandmothers and any other female relative that went through pregnancy. This privileged should not be over-used though, or they will quit answering the telephone.
Usually, Mothers tell you, "Yes, that is bad, but it comes with the territory." Evidently the territory of pregnancy includes everything from body complaints to bad weather. In truth, your parents (AKA your child's grandparents) have no sympathy for you. They have been there. This is their revenge.
If it wasn't their revenge, my mother in law never would have spent hours of prayer to convince God that we needed a child with as much energy as my husband. I did pray for the exact opposite, but evidently she's further on the Big Guys good side. Now she politely listens to stories of her granddaughters escapades and says trite things like..."Well I expected her only to use that energy level when Pete was home." Thanks. Obviously the three months we spent talking about how I was going to be the stay at home parent never entered your mind.
My Mom is no better. I proceeded to tell her all about her granddaughters various explorations around the house. She said, in a terribly un-sympathetic tone of voice. "Gee, she's as curious as her mother."
Last night I called her up for some eight months sympathy. My little curious energy cell decided to take off across an open field toward a neighbors house. Too far behind to start with, I ended up needing to break out in a full out run for forty or so yards to catch her. Imagine running while clutching a twenty pound turkey to your belly, and a full bladder. Running is not what you want to do at this stage of pregnant. A three year old could keep up with me.
A few hours later found me bolting up the stairs to discover Cora had dropped a casserole dish on her foot. I either pulled a muscle in my thigh or I have a placental tear. As I described the adrenalin laced events, Dearest Mom interrupted to reminded me about a certain of her children (Me) she rescued from a two story tree at a similar point in her third pregnancy. The worst part was tthe evil chortle to her voice, as if she was enjoying the entire situation.
Grandparents have NO Sympathy, and revenge is evidenly a dish best served one generation cold.