…and, not to stereotype, the people of Target, and the grocery store, and the mall, as well…
You may or may not know that I kinda like numbers.
Spreadsheets? A thing of beauty.
Statistics? Gotta love ‘em!
A precise operator’s manual for everything – including kiddos? I would be in Heaven.
For the past couple of years, I have been collecting data, observations I’ve made when I'm out in public with the girlies.
I’ll spare you the scientific analysis and pages of geometric proofs…and in fact I’ll just round things to the nearest 25% (since this is a baby blog)…but I think my findings are pretty interesting.
After extensive research, I have concluded that, on any one trip to a retail establishment, approximately 25% of the general population will make some kind of well-intentioned, or “cute”, comment.
We all know the drill…”Are they twins?” “Do twins run in your family?” “You’ve got your hands full!” “They’re adorable! Which one is the boss?”
I know such comments are generally the bane of the multiples community, but I honestly don’t mind them too much (as long as I’m not in a terrible hurry). I am super proud of my babes, and – as long as folks don’t get too nosy OR try to actually touch my children – I love to share my girls with the world.
Approximately 50% of the general population will not acknowledge me / the girls one way or the other.
I’m certainly fine with this. While there are days that I would consider calling the toll-free number on the back of the ketchup bottle to have some adult conversation, I don’t go to the store for that particular purpose. And I know my babies are cute; I am not reliant on some stranger to tell me so.
So, 25% well-wishers + 50% mind-their-own business’ers...that leaves approximately 25% of the population that ranges from mildly scowling to downright hateful.
I know we’re often quite the spectacle with our double stroller. If I only need a few things, I’ll just tuck them in the bottom of the stroller, rather than wrangling a basket or a cart. I am not stealing these items, Mr. Nosy Old Man.
If I need more than a few things, I recognize that my “push the stroller, pull the cart” routine is an eyesore. Yes, I take up more than my fair space in front of the oatmeal, but I am pretty proficient in my maneuvers. As long as you haven’t stopped to chat in the middle of the aisle – in which case I will very politely say, “Excuse me, please,” – I will not sideswipe your buggy, Ms. Disapproving.
And yes, I do narrate the entire contents of the store to my children as we shop, which I realize may be a little disconcerting to those of the “children [and mothers?] should be seen and not heard” generation.
But really, have you ever stopped to appreciate the array of colors in the produce section? Or have you ever pondered how a potato has dirt on it, as evidence of where it grows; while lemons are beautiful and shiny and yellow, like the sun? Well, perhaps you should, Miss “I Can’t Believe She’s Talking to Herself”.
I usually take the sideways looks and funny glances in stride, but when someone stands to the side while I navigate an unruly set of double doors with my double stroller, I do have a good mind to “accidentally” hunt them down and roll over their foot with my +75-pound stroller.
[Thanks to Helene for prompting this post...and if I were a little quicker on my feet, I probably would have said something along those lines myself!]