This is a guest post by Kelly Meyer – check her out at HoleySockArt.
As if learning I was pregnant wasn’t enough of a surprise.
Twins. Wow.
My husband and I laughed when the ultrasound technician first pointed out to us the second heart beat. Then imagine our joy weeks later when we learned it would be identical twin girls. We were overjoyed.
Then reality set in.
I started having problems at 22 weeks. As an NICU (newborn intensive care unity) nurse I was familiar with all of the issues that a baby born early could face. I ended up on bedrest for 9 weeks. My daughters came early and made my heart swell over that day.
That day I vowed like any mama bear protecting her cubs that I would allow nothing to happen to these two precious peanuts.
No one would ever hurt them.
No Hugh Hefner pervert wannabe would ever mar them.
And I’d be damned if that old lady at the mall was going to get them sick.
I never noticed what a stranger magnet babies were until I found myself pushing our Hummer-sized double stroller through the aisles of Target. At every turn there was someone waiting to oogle my daughters and ask me a barrage of personal and embarrassing questions. Strangers apparently have no boundaries when it comes to babies. Having twins seemed only to make it worse as if we were some sort of circus side show for all to gawk at.
Now staring at us is one thing. Fine. I stare sometimes. I mean, if you’re going to wear THAT out in public I think you should expect it.
Then you have the ‘questioners’ as I mentioned. “What are their names?” “How much did they weigh?” “Are you breastfeeding?” “Vaginal or C-section?”
Hey lady, I don’t know you. Why don’t you tell me about your vagina? If you think I’m going to start telling you about my bodily fluids and the condition of my lady bits then you are sadly mistaken.
Yet none of that compares to the ‘touchers’. Yes, the ‘touchers’.
Life as a new mom is hard enough and then you factor in the task of trying to get ANYWHERE to pick up anything at all before someone wakes, needs to eat or requires a diaper change and suddenly life has gotten damn near impossible. My impatience was nearly palpable once the questions would start, not that it stopped anyone. I mean, I have obviously not showered, haven’t eaten let alone slept and am nearly running through the aisles already yet you have this undying curiosity that needs to know if the carseats decked in pink hold little girls or little boys. Come on. Yet, I would force a smile and nod and answer questions as politely as possible, but then it happened. She tried to touch my baby.
I mean, who do you think you are?!
Don’t you see they are sleeping?!
Don’t you know it’s cold and flu season?!
What is wrong with you?!
So I did it. I slapped her hand. Right on top, below that elastic banded watch with the kleenex tucked in it. Our eyes connected and her jaw dropped slightly. “It’s flu season,” I said nonchalantly as I walked away. Then I smirked.
I still relive it in my head from time to time. That one time when I did exactly what I wished I could do on a near daily basis.
I slapped a stranger.
Kelly Meyer is the mother of crazy but cute identical twin girls, now 6 years old. She is the owner & artist behind Holey Socks Art, a shop filled with a truck load of vibrant, original and eclectic wares. Kelly is a painfully honest yet witty blogger, a pediatric nurse, an awesome wife to a wonderfully bearded and talented man, and all around good gal living life and pursuing her passions in the great Midwest. You can follow her on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest and Twitter.
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website & blog: www.holeysocksart.com
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