Men In Mommyworld

As I've written before (like here), sometimes things happen in my world that are unrelated, yet they share a common theme.  I always refer to it as the Universe talking to me.  It happens a lot.  Seriously.  Kinda freaks me out.  Most of the time though, I like it because it feels a little....... magical?  Beautiful?  It's like that plastic bag blowing in the wind from the movie American Beauty.   It's simple- these random little occurrences- and it's beautiful because from each one a thought is pulled and weaved together to create a truth.

(Actually, I'm not quite sure how that's like the bag blowing around in American Beauty, but the truth is that my explanation of this got a little artsy-fartsy and the blowing bag is where my brain defaults to when it comes to symbolism.  Apologies.)

So, it started yesterday when I was in the mall parking lot with Roo.  She was in the stroller and we were walking to the car.  When we got close, some guy who'd been circling the parking lot, decided to follow us the rest of the way and wait for our spot.  (By the way, I hate it when people do this because then I always feel like I have to rush- which I usually do as a courtesy to them because I'm polite that way- but I've always hated the imposition.)    Anyway, I took Roo out of the stroller and put her into the carseat, deciding that I'd buckle her after I loaded the stroller.  See?  I was trying to be all streamlined and fast for this guy which turned out to be all for nought, because when I went back to collapse the stroller I heard him yell "Oh, come ON!"

What in the world did he think I was going to do with the stroller?  Leave it there?  Pick it up and shove it into my bag like Mary Poppins?

I thought maybe, perhaps he was listening to some sports on his radio and his team had just made a bad play because I couldn't see how I had done anything that warrented being yelled at.  I was moving fast, wasn't I?  Trying to get him into this spot as fast as I could, right?

So ignoring eye contact, I lifted the stroller into the trunk, shut it, and went back to Roo so I could buckle her.  And that's when I heard him say, "Are you kidding me?".

Then he pounded his steering wheel like a big fat two year old baby.

Let me leave this story for a minute and tell you where I was mentally before all this happened.

Earlier in the week, my whole family had gotten together and celebrated my grandparents 65th wedding anniversary.  65th.  65th.  That's six full decades and half of another one.   I don't know about you guys, but my brain can't wrap itself around that number when it's in reference to spending it with your spouse.
(Mr. C and I joke that we're going to have to retire to two different spots of the country- him to a hacienda somewhere in New Mexico where he can hike and photograph to his heart's content, and me to my country dream home with a wrap around porch, where I will lounge and read and sip ice tea for the rest of my days.)

Anyway- back to my grandparents.  To look at them now, they are an excellent model for love and marriage.  However, I know from talking to both of them, that they had their share of rough times.  My grandma was telling me the other day how my grandfather, being like most men in 1950's America, was completely clueless to how hard she worked in the home.  He never once changed a diaper, helped with housework, or prepared a meal.  When she asked for help his standard response was "Look, I work all day.  I'm exhausted.  You're here all day.  You can sit down anytime you want and take a nap."

Let's take a moment to gasp collectively.

Him being my beloved grandpa, I can easily forgive him.  That's just how it was in the 50's.  Besides, a Cesarean section and subsequent 10 day hospital stay for my grammy taught my grandpa the error of his thinking.  (My dad loves to tell the story of how my grandpa, during his disastrous week home with his kids, tried to serve a roasted chicken that was burnt on the outside and still frozen in the middle.) But my grammy, though she has long since forgiven him, still gets worked up when she's telling me about that time in her life- and it's 50 years later.  That's some powerful anger there.

Coincidentally (or not), my friend posted this article here up on Facebook written by a father, calling out the clueless dads.  It's a good article and I hope you all click over and read it.  I'm happy to say that most of the dad's I know are completely in the game; diapers, dishes and all.  However, there are a few fathers I know of who'd I love to pin down and force-read the article to.  I have fantasies of going all Jillian Michaels on them and yelling "You're a loser!  You think you're a man? You're not a man!" into their faces.  Aggressive, yes, but I get so sick of seeing their wives tired and beaten down from doing it all themselves.

So, I guess this past week ignornace about children and child rearing was in the forefront of my mind- how it was in the 50's and how we've progressed but there's still people out there who are living in an Ozzie and Harriet nightmare.

So there I was sitting there in the mall with Roo, just prior to the tattooed bald man baby throwing a temper tantrum in his car, sipping on my Starbucks and watching Roo play in the play area.  A group of mommies were there for a playdate and I found myself observing them: the sippy cups, the snack baggies, the conversations about nursing, the kid/mommy language ("Hands aren't for hitting, sweetie!") I was suddenly overcome by this rush of UGH.  I don't know why it happened- on any day any of those ladies and I are easily interchangeable- but in that moment the sheer momminess of mommyworld just completely got under my skin.  I packed up Roo and left.

Then I got accosted by the big bald man baby in the parking lot.

As I was driving home, I felt so worn down by stupidity.  Not just the man baby- I mean, yes, he was totally stupid, but it was more than that.  It was that mommyworld had totally gotten to me, not the first time that had happened, but it was the first time that I realized that the stupid part of parenting- the day in day out silly details of it- is probably is the only thing that the clueless people see.  And I suddenly understood how all this stuff was connected for me:

The daily ins and outs of parenting- I understand that it must look silly on the outside.  The bulging diaper bags, the silly songs and rhymes we sing to entertain the kids, the runny noses.... I could go on forever.  It looks like a bunch of mundane boring stuff that doesn't have a lot of value in it.  (Which is probably why a grown man found it socially acceptable to be impatient with a mother in a parking lot.)  The truth is though, that this stuff is so completely invaluable because it all adds up to time spent with your children.  How sad that there are people who don't get that.  How sad that there are fathers who don't get that.  

So that's what this has turned into.  A Father's Day post.  Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there who get it and see the big picture- the ones who aren't afraid of being silly and changing diapers and spending time with their kids.  You are priceless.

To Mr. C- yes, you're an amazing father BUT perhaps today what I appreciate most about you is that when I need it, you are my superhero rescue from mommyworld.  When I need to NOT feel like a part of that world, you are the person in the universe I turn to who is best at making me feel like the 'me' I was before kids.

And a Happy Father's Day to my own father, who made me smile by writing this under my facebook vent about mall guy, (and I quote) "Tacy, if I had been there, that guy would've been tooting his horn through his back pockets."

Thanks for having my back, dad.  Love you.