You're scaring the single people
The day comes when you are out with your baby in the stroller when you realize you’re scaring the single people. It all starts out innocently enough.
Your husband, being a kind, considerate kind of soul, encourages you to go out for a walk with your baby, leaving him home with the older two children. It being a sunny day, you jump at the chance, slipping on your shoes, grabbing your sunglasses and heading out the door with a cheery wave.
You’re in a chipper mood, despite the fact you were up between 2:30 and 4:30 last night with your teething baby. Never mind that the older two hopped out of bed at 6 a.m. It’s the weekend, the sky is bright, the baby’s finally asleep, and you’re out in the glorious fresh air.
You pass a Starbucks, think about it, but decide against it. (I mean, who wants to maneuver the Peg Perego stroller through the mid morning coffee crowd.) You assume the glances are directed towards your sleeping angel. You pass the café, where a line is out the door for. . . breakfast? no, surely not. It’s 10:30! (you've been up since 5:30 a.m.) These people couldn’t possibly have slept that late.
You keep going, smiling to yourself. Then, you pass another trendy café where people are sitting down, laughing, sipping their frothy coffee concoctions. This time, you notice a well dressed, neatly coiffed, manicured, woman with impeccable makeup look at you, then lean over to her similarly attired friend and say something which makes her look at at you and also laugh.
You think to yourself, “what the heck?” What’s their problem? So, you’re wearing two year old sneakers with ancient jeans and a t-shirt. So, you only finger combed your hair after the shower this morning and it’s (gasp!) somewhat windblown after your walk. So, you’re walking slightly hunched over because the freaking stroller manufacturers don’t think that 5 foot 8 inch tall women have babies.
Then, somewhere in your sleep deprived brain, you remember there was also a time when you sat sipping (not gulping) an overpriced beverage on a sunny afternoon while out for brunch with friends. You, too once went to salons to get your hair done every (hah!) six weeks. Remember makeup? Nailpolish? Facials? Being able to wear black without any smudges marring the pristine expanse? C’mon! You even remember discussing the news, the latest movies, or books that weren’t authored by Dr. Seuss.
You feel like carrying around a miniature copy of your diploma, not to mention your master’s degree, so you can whip it out and show it to those sneering childless women.Then, you remember way back when, when you got scared, too. Then you laugh, head home, and hope you’ll see those women again next week.
Your husband, being a kind, considerate kind of soul, encourages you to go out for a walk with your baby, leaving him home with the older two children. It being a sunny day, you jump at the chance, slipping on your shoes, grabbing your sunglasses and heading out the door with a cheery wave.
You’re in a chipper mood, despite the fact you were up between 2:30 and 4:30 last night with your teething baby. Never mind that the older two hopped out of bed at 6 a.m. It’s the weekend, the sky is bright, the baby’s finally asleep, and you’re out in the glorious fresh air.
You pass a Starbucks, think about it, but decide against it. (I mean, who wants to maneuver the Peg Perego stroller through the mid morning coffee crowd.) You assume the glances are directed towards your sleeping angel. You pass the café, where a line is out the door for. . . breakfast? no, surely not. It’s 10:30! (you've been up since 5:30 a.m.) These people couldn’t possibly have slept that late.
You keep going, smiling to yourself. Then, you pass another trendy café where people are sitting down, laughing, sipping their frothy coffee concoctions. This time, you notice a well dressed, neatly coiffed, manicured, woman with impeccable makeup look at you, then lean over to her similarly attired friend and say something which makes her look at at you and also laugh.
You think to yourself, “what the heck?” What’s their problem? So, you’re wearing two year old sneakers with ancient jeans and a t-shirt. So, you only finger combed your hair after the shower this morning and it’s (gasp!) somewhat windblown after your walk. So, you’re walking slightly hunched over because the freaking stroller manufacturers don’t think that 5 foot 8 inch tall women have babies.
Then, somewhere in your sleep deprived brain, you remember there was also a time when you sat sipping (not gulping) an overpriced beverage on a sunny afternoon while out for brunch with friends. You, too once went to salons to get your hair done every (hah!) six weeks. Remember makeup? Nailpolish? Facials? Being able to wear black without any smudges marring the pristine expanse? C’mon! You even remember discussing the news, the latest movies, or books that weren’t authored by Dr. Seuss.
You feel like carrying around a miniature copy of your diploma, not to mention your master’s degree, so you can whip it out and show it to those sneering childless women.Then, you remember way back when, when you got scared, too. Then you laugh, head home, and hope you’ll see those women again next week.
posted by Kirsten at 2:36 AM
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