It seems like every site I read has been talking about the Mommy Wars. So much, in fact, that I repeatedly turn to MSNBC to see if Bush has drafted my wife. Rimshot!
Here's my take on the Mommy Wars: It doesn't matter if you're a mom who has to work, a mom who chooses to work, or a mom who stays at home with her kids. The only thing that matters is that you shower your children with love, care, and understanding. If you cherish your children during whatever amount of time you get to spend with them during the day, you've won the Mommy Wars. Rock on, soldier!
What I'd like to talk about is my own war against society. Or rather, how some in society perceive me. If I go out into the world alone, I get treated no better or worse than most members of society.
But with kids in tow?
People treat me like I've got a seeing-eye dog. Or like I'm Arnie Grape.
If I go to the grocery store by myself (a rarity), I am able to shop in peace (in more ways than one). If I have the kids with me, as soon as I enter the joint, I'm accosted and asked if I need any help. Um? No. Quite capable, thanks.
Once, I actually had a stock boy ask if I needed him to walk with me while I shopped. Thanks, dude! Am I drooling? Do I look incompetent?
Oh wait! I know! I look like a MAN!
Why is that when some people see a man alone with a child, they immediately feel sorry for him? Why do they feel he's incompetent? Why do they think he must be babysitting his kids? I know I'm not the only one who experiences this fun.
Yesterday, Zoey's preschool was having a Book Fair. I had Zed in the stroller with Zoey walking by my side when we entered the church. I did not know where the Fair was being held (it's a big church), and since there were no signs advertising the Book Fair, I asked someone as soon as we entered the church. The lady said, "Go down the hall, take a right, and you'll see signs." I thanked her and headed down the hall when an elderly lady came upon us.
She took one look at Zoey and said, "Oh! Aren't you a cute little thing? I bet you're here looking for your Mommy! She's probably down in the (MOBS or MOPS or some lame acronym dealing with mothers) meeting."
Having dealt with well-meaning old ladies like this many times in the past, I instantly shot back, "No. She's not looking for her Mommy. Her Mommy's at work. We're headed to the Book Fair."
A man came out of a door (which is probably a good thing because I had begun looking for closets to hide the old woman's body). She turned to the man and said, "Sam, will you escort this gentleman to the Book Fair?"
"No thanks, Sam. I know where it is," I huffed as I walked down the hallway.
Ok. Sorry for all the navel-gazing, woe-is-me bullshit. Ella says I make too big of a deal out of this. Is she right?
Me v. Them
