Thou Shall Not Judge

I am fairly confident that I could win a congressional seat if I made this subject my soap box.

Picture me-the pastor in the church of "Mind Your Own Damn Business". With every sermon, and every example, you all gleefully arise from your seats, raise your hands to the heavens and shout "HALLELUJAH, PRAISE THE MOM".

We all have relatives that love to give you unsolicited advice, but today I am talking about the complete strangers whose comments spew from their mouths like Mount Vesuvius' deadly eruption over Pompeii. Sometimes, it is just a look...that look of disdain that lets you know whatever it is you are doing is utterly unacceptable to them.

Most of these people are somewhat older, and raised their own children when flogging was a completely acceptable manner in which to make your children conform.

There are a few incidences that happen to stick out in my mind.

The incident at the beach was one of the better ones. One of the kids had brought with them a babydoll. This was one of those Berringer dolls that looked eerily lifelike...anatomically correct even. It was in a stroller. A woman ran up to me and proceeded to tell me to get my baby out of the sun. Was she kidding? Before I remembered that I was a upstanding member of society....it just came out of my mouth......"Its a fucking doll!!!"

About three days ago, as I was perusing the makeup isle at Target. Emma was being her usual self. Attempting to hurl herself from the carriage, and squirm her way out of my arms. (She likes to be busy...what 10 month old doesn't?)

So, I put her down. Big deal. There was no one else in the isle besides my shopping partner and me. I needed some makeup and I wanted to take my time. It took only a couple of minutes before Em found a bin filled with travel sized lotions. I know this would give me at least 10 minutes. She was having a blast taking them out, putting them back, throwing them on the floor. (i had every intention of cleaning up the isle when I was finished)

A woman, I would say in her Early 50's, walked by and as obvious as you could get, actually walked BACKWARDS to look at Emma, and then scowl her eyebrows at me for a good 5 seconds. "Keep walking lady...that's right. I got my kid on the floor of Target so I can buy myself some limp plumping, sexual attraction promising lip gloss. And furthermore,...my Target Visa balance is probably bigger than your mortgage so I got every right" (I get afflicted with a dialect similar to that of Jerry Springer guest when put in defense mode)

Shortly thereafter, we went to lunch. Emma has a difficult time keeping her shoes and socks on, and frankly, sometimes I just let it go. While waiting to be seated, an older woman mentioned that she was barefoot (thanks for the 411). Of course I explained how her shoes and socks were most likely strewn in the backseat of my car to which she replied "oh, I didn't think you would have your baby out barefoot..chuckle chuckle" and then she made some DCYF comment. (damn straight I walked in there with her barefooted...shows what YOU know)


Most bothersome to me,however, was the incident at Savers. I think because of the absolute conviction in this woman's voice. I was running from store to my car. Emma, again, like most babies, has a hard time understanding the necessity of hat wearing. So keeping one on her is most challenging. As I was nearing my vehicle, a much older woman looked as us, threw her hands to the sky and literally began calling to God "Oh, dear lord, dear lord, put a hat on that child..please lord". What? Was she truly asking God to magically bestow a hat on my baby's head? I was honestly outside for maybe 30 seconds. In my shock, and after about 10 seconds, I turned around and was not about to let this go. "ITS A FUCKING DOLL"

After that, I decided that would be my new comeback for any nosey, advice wielding know it all that feels the need to invoke their opinion upon me and my doll. I mean baby.