Friday, January 06, 2006
No Respect for Mr. Mom
As a stay-at-home dad (or Mr. Mom, if you will), I tend to run all my chores during the day. That included 3 trips to the supermarket over the last 2 days. Yeah, I'm not very organized. I've noticed that there are 4 distinct types of people out during the day.
Group 1 is the working class. They're taking time off of work to get some things done. They're always in a rush. I used to know what that was like. Now my concerns seem to be centered around not having my child jump out of the shopping cart in the parking lot or trying to wedge him into his car seat before he has an aneurysm from screaming his head off. (By the way, I'm mildly amazed that I spelled "aneurysm" right on my first try. Spellcheck has ruined any spelling ability I once had. I guess even a blind squirrel can find a nut.)
Group 2 is people with kids, which includes me. It's funny because I feel like I've been accepted into the club now. Today, I was checking out at the supermarket (for the first time) and the mother in front of me offered to bag her own groceries so that I could get out of there with Luke's diapers. Then, on my second trip to the supermarket, I let a mother cross the road to her car after someone from Group 1 tried to run her over. She smiled and waved, so I did the same. Then we went out for coffee and talked about soap operas while playing Canasta. Good people in Group 2.
Group 3 is old people. My mom always hates when I use the term "old people" since she's nearing 60 herself. But 60 year-olds aren't allowed in this group for years. When I say "old," what I mean to say is "cheating death." These are the people that are on the lam from the nursing home, are dying of hunger, and are thus at a supermarket for the first time since the 1950's. They can never seem to understand how the supermarkets are organized. "I don't understand why the apples are here, but the peanut butter is on the other side of the store." They also have way too many coupons, all of which expired years ago. And they only have 2 methods of paying: by check or by pennies.
Group 4 is what I'll term "Former Mothers." I know, once you're a mother, you're always a mother. These are people who once had to take care of their own children, but now they're all gone. This group is commonly known as "Empty Nesters," but I really don't like that phrase because it reminds me of that terrible sitcom starring Richard Dreyfus that aired right after Golden Girls. Maybe it wasn't that bad and it just paled in comparison to Golden Girls. I mean, how can anything possibly follow that dynamo?
Anyway, Group 4 can't help giving out mothering advice. It probably doesn't help matters that I'm a man. They must think that I lost a bet or my wife's in the hospital or something. Otherwise, what the hell would I be doing with my kid. Not only am I looking after him, but I somehow got forced into taking him to the store with me. What a poor soul. I must need parenting advice.
Luke has had a cold for the past few weeks, just like everyone else. It's not a big deal. In fact, he seems perfectly content except for a little runny nose. (Mom and Dad, meanwhile, were bordering on death for several days.) Yesterday, at the supermarket, it was just about nap time and Luke was being fussy. He also had some crusty snot on his upper lip. (There's really no good way to put that, is there?) One helpful Former Mother told me that I should take him to the doctor. After all, if a kid has a runny nose that I'm too lazy to clean up, he must be dying. I told her to call 911 immediately. Get an ambulance here stat! My kid's fussiness must mean that he's fighting for every breath. Or maybe he just needs a kleenex and a nap. Can the ambulance bring that?
Today, Luke was being fussy again. No snot, but he wanted to be held the whole time I was in Kohl's. (You know you're getting old, by the way, when you think The Gap sucks and Kohl's has cool clothes.) As I'm waiting to check out, the Former Mother in front of me noticed Luke being fussy. So she told me he must be teething. I didn't have the heart to tell her that when he's teething, it's accompanied by explosive diarrhea, though in retrospect I should have. The checkout lady was an even more helpful Former Mother. She suggested that Luke might have outgrown his shoes and that's why he's being fussy. Or, it could be the Indian burns I was giving him in the changing room. Am I not supposed to do that? I really need more parenting advice.
Group 1 is the working class. They're taking time off of work to get some things done. They're always in a rush. I used to know what that was like. Now my concerns seem to be centered around not having my child jump out of the shopping cart in the parking lot or trying to wedge him into his car seat before he has an aneurysm from screaming his head off. (By the way, I'm mildly amazed that I spelled "aneurysm" right on my first try. Spellcheck has ruined any spelling ability I once had. I guess even a blind squirrel can find a nut.)
Group 2 is people with kids, which includes me. It's funny because I feel like I've been accepted into the club now. Today, I was checking out at the supermarket (for the first time) and the mother in front of me offered to bag her own groceries so that I could get out of there with Luke's diapers. Then, on my second trip to the supermarket, I let a mother cross the road to her car after someone from Group 1 tried to run her over. She smiled and waved, so I did the same. Then we went out for coffee and talked about soap operas while playing Canasta. Good people in Group 2.
Group 3 is old people. My mom always hates when I use the term "old people" since she's nearing 60 herself. But 60 year-olds aren't allowed in this group for years. When I say "old," what I mean to say is "cheating death." These are the people that are on the lam from the nursing home, are dying of hunger, and are thus at a supermarket for the first time since the 1950's. They can never seem to understand how the supermarkets are organized. "I don't understand why the apples are here, but the peanut butter is on the other side of the store." They also have way too many coupons, all of which expired years ago. And they only have 2 methods of paying: by check or by pennies.
Group 4 is what I'll term "Former Mothers." I know, once you're a mother, you're always a mother. These are people who once had to take care of their own children, but now they're all gone. This group is commonly known as "Empty Nesters," but I really don't like that phrase because it reminds me of that terrible sitcom starring Richard Dreyfus that aired right after Golden Girls. Maybe it wasn't that bad and it just paled in comparison to Golden Girls. I mean, how can anything possibly follow that dynamo?
Anyway, Group 4 can't help giving out mothering advice. It probably doesn't help matters that I'm a man. They must think that I lost a bet or my wife's in the hospital or something. Otherwise, what the hell would I be doing with my kid. Not only am I looking after him, but I somehow got forced into taking him to the store with me. What a poor soul. I must need parenting advice.
Luke has had a cold for the past few weeks, just like everyone else. It's not a big deal. In fact, he seems perfectly content except for a little runny nose. (Mom and Dad, meanwhile, were bordering on death for several days.) Yesterday, at the supermarket, it was just about nap time and Luke was being fussy. He also had some crusty snot on his upper lip. (There's really no good way to put that, is there?) One helpful Former Mother told me that I should take him to the doctor. After all, if a kid has a runny nose that I'm too lazy to clean up, he must be dying. I told her to call 911 immediately. Get an ambulance here stat! My kid's fussiness must mean that he's fighting for every breath. Or maybe he just needs a kleenex and a nap. Can the ambulance bring that?
Today, Luke was being fussy again. No snot, but he wanted to be held the whole time I was in Kohl's. (You know you're getting old, by the way, when you think The Gap sucks and Kohl's has cool clothes.) As I'm waiting to check out, the Former Mother in front of me noticed Luke being fussy. So she told me he must be teething. I didn't have the heart to tell her that when he's teething, it's accompanied by explosive diarrhea, though in retrospect I should have. The checkout lady was an even more helpful Former Mother. She suggested that Luke might have outgrown his shoes and that's why he's being fussy. Or, it could be the Indian burns I was giving him in the changing room. Am I not supposed to do that? I really need more parenting advice.
