Wednesday, December 8, 2010

When Old Ladies Wrestle Dog Food

Good Afternoon Readers,

I had to stop and check myself this morning, because as it turns out, I may just be a bad parent…or possibly incapable…I haven’t decided which yet. How do I know? Well, it’s certainly not from any physical signs I’ve detected lately. I have all my hair and my knees work ok. But, I have gotten a few ques from the geriatric population recently, that could suggest that my children are in the wrong set of un-manicured hands. I’ll let you make the call.
     Let’s rewind to yesterday’s expedition to a certain Supercenter. I haven’t updated you lately, but the process has gotten a lot smoother. I look like a pack mule…but smoother.
It’s important for you to have an idea of what this looks like however. Due to votes from both the twins, the stroller has been deemed an evil contraption and because of this, sits abandoned in the back of the car. Therefore, when entering any store, I do so with my son strapped to the front of me in the Baby Bjorn, and my daughter, in her carseat, securely placed in the front of the cart. This actually works out great for my son as he likes to take his sisters socks off and throw them behind us as we walk.

     It was in this manor, that we three made our rounds through the store. After about an hour, my son, tired of staring at everything that passed us, bowed his tiny head and proceeded to fall asleep. Deciding that it was an excellent time to head back home, I made my way to the check out.
As I reluctantly handed over my Visa to the cashier, out of the corner of my eye, I realized that a flurry of orthopedic shoes, gray hair and chain linked glasses was flying towards me. "Is that a real baby?" ...As I looked up, I observed a a rather tall yet concerned elderly woman staring at my little boy who was now (by benefit of a blue snow suit) hanging off of me like a drunk smurf. "Why yes, he is a real baby." I said. "Is he comfortable like that?" she replied. Assuring her that he sleeps like that often, I managed to herd the still frowning woman, back to her own lane.
     Ahh, but that wasn't to be my only strange encounter of the trip. After making it back to the car, I began the unloading process. Just as I was hoisting my daughter into car, I looked up and realized that yet another elderly woman was staring at me with concern. "You need help?" she said. "No, no. I've got it" I replied. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to believe me, for as I shut the passenger door, I noticed her shuffling to other side of the vehicle.
She ended up beside me, and noticing the 30 lb. bag of dog food in my cart, proceeded to offer to lift it into the back of the suv. Assuring her that this was not necessary, I gave her a warm smile that said "It's cool grandma, don't even think about it cause I know you need both those hips to make it to the family Christmas this year." She gave me a sympathetic look, and before I could stop her, reached in and lifted the bag from the cart. With horror, I watched as, with limbs shaking and dentures quaking, she did a half lift/half thrust of said bag into the car. Her good deed done for the day, I watched her and her giant sunglasses shuffle towards the store.
     I guess I should feel lucky that it's not just my grandparents looking out for me when I leave the house. Perhaps there's some sort of underground AARP movement going on, designed specifically to monitor the capability of young parents the world over? Reassuring or ridiculously frightening...I dunno...take a closer look into that Lincoln Towncar next time you leave the house with your baby. That big pair of shades you see over the steering wheel just might be watching you too.

Until next time Readers!