My husband and I ran out for a few errands today. We took our son with us, and as we were walking out the door, I said "Do you think we need a coat for the baby?" and we looked at the sunny sky and said "Nah, we're going to be inside Home Depot anyways, we don't need a coat."
En route to Home Depot, my mother called and we decided to rendezvous at a park so that she could see her grandson. I got to the park a bit earlier than her, and discovered a nice wee playground that was just toddler sized and we started playing. This playground is located on little boardwalk in the uber-trendy part of town, and it wasn't long before the coldest wind EVER kicked up and my kid was sort of shivering, but having the time of his life in the 3 million dollar playground.
After a few minutes, a little family rolls up with their $1000 stroller. Mom, who is well over forty years old, is wearing a white trench coat and stilletos. I kid you not. Stilletos in the playground. Dad is decked out in super trendy golf shorts and flashy kicks, while their toddler was in head to toe designer duds. His outfit probably cost more than our car. However, this child was very cute and exactly the same size as my baby, so they began making friends.
I asked how old this little guy was, and his mother replied " 16 months". I said "Oh, our little guys are the same age!".
She said "Really?, how old is your baby?"
"15 months", I replied.
"Oh, what's his birthday?" I tell her and she says in bitch-mama voice "Well, they are actually SIX weeks apart, and that's a long time when they are this age." obviously implying that her kid is the shit, while mine some delayed little idjit.
In the fakest friendly voice I could muster, I said "I guess six weeks is a big gap, he probably has more words than my little guy, hey?"
"Oh, yes, he says 'Mama' and 'Dada' and 'Nana'" While saying this, she nearly topples over while crouching in the sawdust in her Manolo Blahniks . I look down at my Payless flats and say "That's all he says? My little Grasshopper here says 'ball' and 'flower' and 'puppy' and 'truck' and 'wow' and 'uh-oh'..." I trail off as I see her eyes narrow.
"Is your baby shivering? Didn't you bring him a coat?" She assess me critically, noticing my ghetto shoes and the sweat suit my son is wearing. It screams "Walmart". "Maybe we have one we can lend you..." I can tell she thinks I'm a bad mother. She bends down and rubs my sons arms as if to warm him. "You poor cold little baby!"
Just then her husband's phone rings and he says "Sorry honey, I have to get this, it's my contractor."
I eavesdrop and hear him say "Hey, yeah, thanks for getting back to me, I was thinking I want to build a playground in my backyard for my son. I was wondering what you thought was better, do you want me to get one of those put-it-together yourself kits, or can you build something yourself." He looks over at my son with pity, obviously thinking, if the kid doesn't even come to the park with a coat, his mother could never afford to bestow him with the benefits of personal playground equipment. "Okay, sure, yeah, whatever you think is best for him....yeah, we'll get together and draw up some plans then, that's great. Okay, Tuesday..."
I gather my son up in my arms and blow on his fingers as my mother arrives. "We're going to go with Grandma now, okay buddy?" A little dog walks by and the other little boy points and says "gah-gah-gah!" while my little grasshopper says "Mama! Pup-pup WOOF!" You do me proud, son.
I'm not exactly sure of the rules of engagement, but think I won this mommy-war. My younger (and in your eyes, dumber) kid kicked your kid's vocabulary ass. And while your kid is playing silently all by himself on his personal playgound, my son will be learning how to socialize, and talk to other people, to share and to resolve conflict. And wearing Blahniks to the park proves that he won't be getting any good IQ DNA from you, so I think I won that mommy war too.
After a few minutes, a little family rolls up with their $1000 stroller. Mom, who is well over forty years old, is wearing a white trench coat and stilletos. I kid you not. Stilletos in the playground. Dad is decked out in super trendy golf shorts and flashy kicks, while their toddler was in head to toe designer duds. His outfit probably cost more than our car. However, this child was very cute and exactly the same size as my baby, so they began making friends.
I asked how old this little guy was, and his mother replied " 16 months". I said "Oh, our little guys are the same age!".
She said "Really?, how old is your baby?"
"15 months", I replied.
"Oh, what's his birthday?" I tell her and she says in bitch-mama voice "Well, they are actually SIX weeks apart, and that's a long time when they are this age." obviously implying that her kid is the shit, while mine some delayed little idjit.
In the fakest friendly voice I could muster, I said "I guess six weeks is a big gap, he probably has more words than my little guy, hey?"
"Oh, yes, he says 'Mama' and 'Dada' and 'Nana'" While saying this, she nearly topples over while crouching in the sawdust in her Manolo Blahniks . I look down at my Payless flats and say "That's all he says? My little Grasshopper here says 'ball' and 'flower' and 'puppy' and 'truck' and 'wow' and 'uh-oh'..." I trail off as I see her eyes narrow.
"Is your baby shivering? Didn't you bring him a coat?" She assess me critically, noticing my ghetto shoes and the sweat suit my son is wearing. It screams "Walmart". "Maybe we have one we can lend you..." I can tell she thinks I'm a bad mother. She bends down and rubs my sons arms as if to warm him. "You poor cold little baby!"
Just then her husband's phone rings and he says "Sorry honey, I have to get this, it's my contractor."
I eavesdrop and hear him say "Hey, yeah, thanks for getting back to me, I was thinking I want to build a playground in my backyard for my son. I was wondering what you thought was better, do you want me to get one of those put-it-together yourself kits, or can you build something yourself." He looks over at my son with pity, obviously thinking, if the kid doesn't even come to the park with a coat, his mother could never afford to bestow him with the benefits of personal playground equipment. "Okay, sure, yeah, whatever you think is best for him....yeah, we'll get together and draw up some plans then, that's great. Okay, Tuesday..."
I gather my son up in my arms and blow on his fingers as my mother arrives. "We're going to go with Grandma now, okay buddy?" A little dog walks by and the other little boy points and says "gah-gah-gah!" while my little grasshopper says "Mama! Pup-pup WOOF!" You do me proud, son.
I'm not exactly sure of the rules of engagement, but think I won this mommy-war. My younger (and in your eyes, dumber) kid kicked your kid's vocabulary ass. And while your kid is playing silently all by himself on his personal playgound, my son will be learning how to socialize, and talk to other people, to share and to resolve conflict. And wearing Blahniks to the park proves that he won't be getting any good IQ DNA from you, so I think I won that mommy war too.
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