That last post sparked an awesome-storm of comments. Right after I posted it I was seized with remorse and terror ("Oh my God, the internet is totally going to call CPS on my ass! For losing my patience! OMG!"), and then after I read all your comments, I felt six thousand times better, with a renewed ability to take on the challenges of parenting a teeny little maniac. (Who is also extremely dear.) Wow.
In thanks I offer up the following stories.
1) Frigid Monday saw us in Ikea again (is it bad that Sophia can say "Ikea"? 'Cause if it is, I don't wanna be good), along with six frillion other families because it was goshdang President's Day. As Lilian said, one of the bennies of being a SAHM is that you live your life during off-peak hours, and then to go to a favorite haunt only to find it crawling with other people? Bum. Mer.
So there we are, wandering through the pretend kid-rooms, and a man with a little (say, 2-year-old) boy notices Sophia staring at the boy. "Say hi to the girl, Eric!" he nudges. "Go on, say hi!" He's a little pushier than is warranted, but that whole regional affect thing is a factor sometimes, and I'm learning to shift expectations. Anyway, little Eric finally tosses a "Hi!" over his shoulder and resumes attempting to climb the ladder with the big DO NOT CLIMB sign. Sophia is fascinated; I am squatting next to her, letting her check out the world. Proud Papa joins me in a squat.
"She's beautiful," he says. "Look at those eyes! Beautiful blue eyes!"
"Uh, thanks!" I say. People always comment on her eyes, which are indeed beautiful and blue, but he's a little...persistent about it. (Whole other post in there about the blue eyes phenomenon, one I've been aware of since my time as a brown-eyed little girl with blue-eyed sisters. Anyway.)
He calls over his shoulder to the little boy. "Hey Eric! What do you say? Is she hot?"
I am aghast. Did this yutz just refer to my eighteen-month-old child as hot?
"C'mon, Eric!" he pushes. "I said, is she hot?" This is clearly a routine of theirs. The boy turns around and says in an exaggerated tone, "Yeeeeeah!" and flings himself onto an inflatable turtle cushion. I am frozen. Proud Papa turns his attention to me.
"Wow, that hair" -- he is now close enough that he could reach over and ruffle it, and for a second I think he might --"that's really cool! I thought it was just the light! But it's really that color! Wow!" At this distance I see he is wearing a gold necklace with a guitar charm on it. I wonder where his wife is. Because he seems like the kind of guy who would have a wife. I pop up into a stand, sweeping Sophia up as I go.
"Okeydokey, gotta go catch up with Daddy..." I say, walking away, every neuron firing EEEEEWWWWWW. I feel so dirty that if presented with a working shower stall, I might take one right there, except that then I'd have to be naked and I don't think I could handle that.
Later I explain to Sophia: "That was what we call an asshole, honey. When you run into an asshole, what do you do? You don't argue. You don't yell. You just get away, quickly and cleanly as possible." Very Protecting the Gift, don't you think? Yeah. I hope it'll stick.
* * * * *
Okay, one more: right now I have brown dye on my hair -- Clairol Nice 'n' Nondescript Inoffensive Medium Un-color. Not 'cause of the guy, but because I want to start wearing bright clothes and makeup for spring, and fear looking like some half-off clown costume. When I squeezed the bottle of freshly mixed color, the plastic cracked, and then broke in half like an egg. Dye everywhere.
I called the company, and they told me that bottle had been manufactured in 2001. "Will it make my hair fall out?" I asked. "Nah," said the rep, who was doing a good job at not laughing too much. "If there's anything wrong with it, it just won't work."
So. Lesson here: don't buy your Ordinary Lady brand hair dye at a place that specializes in outfitting hair shows. I'll let you know if I go bald, okay?
Ewwww. That guy was way out of line. He reminds me of a weekend dad trying WAY too hard. But seriously...can he not hear himself? Maybe he was trying to come on t you through your beautiful, beautiful child.
Posted by: Amy, Minneapolis, MN | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 02:04 PM
Hey, thanks for the link... isn't that true, though? I kind of feel startled when I go out and the places are crowded. It's only then that I remember, oh, of course, it's a holiday, or it's the weekend :)
That guy was awful, to say the least. I haven't yet had a serious conversation with Kelvin about strangers who come up to us and start talking. It'll be sad to break his innocence in a way and tell him that there are "bad people" in the world. I know we'll have to do it sooner or later, especially because he's always so excited when someone starts talking to him that he just warms up to them immediately.
Yeah, IKEA, we all love IKEA as well :)
Posted by: Lilian | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 02:47 PM
<>
CLASSIC. I love this so much. I hope it sticks too. That is absolutely the right thing to do.
Posted by: Ninotchka | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 02:52 PM
Ooops! Typepad ate part of my comment, I was talking specifically about this:
Later I explain to Sophia: "That was what we call an asshole, honey. When you run into an asshole, what do you do? You don't argue. You don't yell. You just get away, quickly and cleanly as possible."
Posted by: Ninotchka | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 02:53 PM
one of the things i like about having a boy is the chance to raise one that's not an ASSHOLE. jeeeeeeez.
Posted by: Cat, Galloping | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 03:09 PM
Why do the hair dye accidents always happen in rented residences? I once lost a security deposit over an unfortunate incident that involved henna splattered all over the living room ceiling....
Posted by: Summer | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 03:34 PM
"The blue eyes phenomenon" -- that makes feel really guilty for being disappointed that my son has brown eyes. I'll try to get over it, or at least not to let him know. But maybe it's different for boys? No, come to think of it, I KNOW I've commented on little boys' blue eyes. (But I've never, ever, called a baby "hot," I promise.)
Posted by: DoctorMama | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 04:12 PM
Ew. We run into those guys a lot. They get really bent out of shape when you say things like "That's not an appropriate way to talk to my kid."
We moved to CO from NY a few months ago, and everybody here has blue and green eyes. They comment on Mad's pretty brown ones all the time. Regional thing, maybe?
Posted by: suz | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 07:22 PM
Ew, indeed. That's worse than they guy who remarked that Hannah "looked like she was playing spin the bottle" when she dropped a ketchup bottle in the supermarket.
I have an aunt who mistakenly picked up a bottle of Nair instead of shampoo and applied a thick heapin' helpin' to her head before realizing her mistake. She turned out fine. I'm sure you will, too. Maybe. :)
Posted by: Julia | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 08:07 PM
It's not that blue eyes aren't beautiful, or that one should never comment on a baby's appearance (um, to compliment it, of course) -- just that I'm sort of hyperconscious that in our culture, a certain type of appearance seems to merit a certain strength of response, you know?
Of course I, as a child, was often complimented on the brownness of my skin. (Absurd if you know me now, in my pasty glory.) This was the seventies and early eighties, when "sunscreen" meant "coconut oil with iodine" and "limiting sun exposure" meant "using your bathing suit strap to check your burn level"....
Posted by: Jo | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 08:11 PM
Oh, and I now have very normal-looking brown hair with only the faintest blue tinge and no bald spots. Go Clairol.
Posted by: Jo | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 08:38 PM
So does your hair look like one of those birds who is mostly brown until the sun hits them juuust right, and they have a blue iridescent sheen on their feathers?
Posted by: Rosemary Grace | Wednesday, February 21, 2007 at 08:44 PM
Our daughter has a rather large birth mark on her forehead, along with an infectious smile, brilliant blue eyes, and cheeks to die for. She gets a lot of comments, and a lot of people remember her.(she is very social. she'll hug you if you stand still long enough)
She is 13 months old and I am struggling to come up with the best response to "What's wrong with her head???" I don't want her to feel like there is anything "wrong" because there isn't. But I don't want to ignore what I am sure she'll eventually take notice of. I am considering the "Honey, remember when we talked about assholes? That's one of them!" Thanks!!!!!
ps- we too were in Ikea over prez day weekend- only in Seattle!
Posted by: erin | Thursday, February 22, 2007 at 12:42 AM
"What's wrong with her head?"
???
!!!
Yeesh. Assholes indeed.
Posted by: Jo | Thursday, February 22, 2007 at 12:04 PM
Creepy, creepy, creepy man. I bet he doesn't have a wife, I bet he has a barely legal girlfriend, who he exchanges frequently for a new one. Aaaack!
The whole blue eyed thing is so weird. I have twin boys with hazel eyes, and every time my MIL picks N up, she is convinced that his eyes look blue, while D's eyes are brown, when the only thing about the two of them that is the same is their eyes. Why is is it so important that they look blue? when the bluest they look is a kind of greyish green? By the time our kids are old enough they will have probably invented some kind of eye drops that can tint your eyes whatever you want temporarily or something anyway.
Posted by: Chickenpig | Friday, February 23, 2007 at 07:11 AM
Hey, we were at Ikea (the suburban one) on Monday too— because we thought (heh) it would be empty.
Perhaps it's volatile Phila. blood that runs thorough my veins but boy-oh-boy I would've spat out something to Monsieur Mairde just to see *him* squirm a little. Maybe a very curt, "Are you sexualizing my infant daughter?" in an icy, icy voice.
What a sleazy guy. Yuck.
Posted by: Melissa | Friday, February 23, 2007 at 11:01 AM