My Entourage

If you are a mother, especially a mother of many small children, you'd think you'd be used to the looks people give you. The comments. The stares. The questions. Here are a few of my personal favorites:

1. WOW! You sure have your hands full.


2. How close are they in age?


3. You're a brave mom.


4. Are all those children yours?

And my personal favorite, which I heard last week:

5. Oh! I've seen you and your entourage at school.

It's not that I can really blame anyone for making these comments...here is an example: I take the kids to a local playground, dimly choosing one without a bathroom. While they play, I meet two nice moms - actually one nice mom and one nice nanny. They are asking the ages of my kids and telling me I have my hands full, to which I smugly reply "I do, but it's so much fun." Next thing I know, Erica's running over saying she's going to have an accident. I frantically look around for the non-existent restroom only to see a construction site half a block away with a lot of shirtless men and a Port-a-Potty. I ask these random moms (although as I'm constantly reminding my kids, strangers are strangers, and "bad guys" might not look mean) to watch my two boys while I run Erica to the construction site, and ask the workers if she can use their bathroom. They laugh and say yes. She proceeds to take her sweet time while I'm standing in the dirt waiting. We then run back to the park, where she has the gall to ask the women if they can keep watching Jacob so she can show me something! I was mortified! The next thing I know, Robby is about to have an accident, and to save face I tell him he has to hold it. We head for the car to cut our playground visit short, but on the way Erica gets stuck climbing a tree and the nice nanny helps her out before I can get there! Hands full? Who me?

These comments come from people who either never had children, can't remember when their own children were little, or had one angelic child. The glares on airplanes are the best. Contrast that with the little old man who chose the seat next to me and my 3 children and told me he loves holding babies if I need any help. Now there's a man who knows what it's like.

We should be used to these comments and looks, and yet...I find myself constantly feeling slighted, belittled, and annoyed by them. I wish I could be as carefree as a brave woman I know who used to say, "Yes, these children are all mine. And I left half of them at home!"