Party of Six

Today, after daily Mass, I stopped at a restaurant and bought breakfast for my kids. Three of them had already had a breakfast early in the morning, but my 14 year old had not, and was starving. We could have driven home for food, but I thought that the treat of eating out would be a good reward for my kids behaving so well. Besides, my husband had left early in the morning on a business trip, and I hadn't eaten. I had been up late and for big chunks of the night due to my youngest's recent bout with teething, so I was hungry. The likelihood of my getting to eat once we got home, when I would be busy tending the baby and preparing more food, was slim.

  

Unfortunately, I was accosted by an elderly "gentleman" with a loose tongue and no tact. First he called out to me as we made our way to the table, "Don't ya think he's getting cold?!" He was referring to the 5 month old in my arms. My son was in a short sleeved romper. I figured the man just needed a reason to talk to me, so I smiled and said, "Maybe" as cheerfully as I could. 

Later he came over to me and told me that seeing a woman "all by herself with so many kids" reminded him of how he once "saw a woman at a restaurant with 'stair-step' children." He indicated what he meant by holding his hand at different heights in increasingly higher positions.  He looked me in the face pointedly, and I noticed his glass eye. I tried to look attentive and pleasant, but definitely wasn't smiling. He hesitated a minute and then continued, "I told her, 'Don't ya have a T.V.?!' She laughed," he said. "Then she kept on laughing every few minutes after that. I think I made her day." 

He chuckled at the story. I did not know what to say to this. It seemed that he had read my restrained facial expression and mitigated his intended statement. But I was still mildly offended. I didn't want him to think that I thought it was funny, but I didn't want to be rude. I was thinking to myself that the lady was probably making an effort to laugh so that she didn't cry, that his joke was hurtful. Or perhaps she was chuckling at him, his naivety and triteness. He stood there and stared at me. I couldn't come up with anything to say.

Then he said, "He must be getting cold," and nodded at the baby. It was 80 degrees Fahrenheit with 89 percent humidity at 9:30 in the morning and only getting hotter! My kiddo was not under-dressed. Yes, the air conditioning was on, but it was not cold in the restaurant, like some grocery stores can be. If it had been, I would have gotten his sweatshirt out of my diaper bag and put it on him. 

"Probably," I replied, giving him the benefit of the doubt. I smiled at him and then turned away. I was getting frustrated. He had implied that I was stupid, that my children were simply products of my boredom, and that I didn't know how to dress my children properly. AND he expected me to laugh at his banal and overused "joke". 

After a time, this man interrupted me a third time by calling out, "How old is he?" He was clearly referring to my infant again. "Five months," I replied. 

"Well then, he's a big one, ain't he?!" he continued. "Yup," I replied, "He started out big." At this point his dining companion joined in this long-distance conversation. "My wife, when she had two kids, they were big. One of em' was 7 pounds and 22 inches long. How big was he?" 

I smiled, but it felt like a lie. "Oh, he was really big, bigger than that," I told them. "How big?" the man with the glass eye prodded. I probably sighed at this point. "He was 11 pounds and 23 inches long," I declared, as proudly as I could, and thinking to myself, "Yes, I am a freak in many ways."

"Well he's like that there commercial on the T.V., ain't he?" said the second man. "You know the one I'm talkin' 'bout?" he asked me. I shook my head no. (I refrained from telling them that I did not, in fact, own a television.) "You know, the one with that really big black guy. I think he's a football player or somethin'."

"No, he ain't a football player. It's basketball," interjected the first man. 

"Well, anyway, his mom's on there and she says something like, 'He was more than I expected!' Ya know?" he said laughingly, waiting for a response. "Mine have all been big," I told him, shrugging. "Oh," he said, lamely. I didn't seem to be playing this game right. I was supposed to be the butt of their jokes and criticism, and join in, but I wasn't being a "good sport". We left shortly after that. I had had enough harassment. 

Episodes like this happen with such frequency that I have gotten to the point that I sometimes dread going places with the kids when my husband is not present. For some reason, no one seems to make comments like these when he's around. But I get inundated with negative and rude comments. I guess I should be happy to know that I am an unintentional witness for larger than average families. But instead, I just feel self-conscious and vexed. And usually, I'm put in a position where I truly do not know what the most charitable thing to do is. 

In this particular instance, my kids were quiet and well-behaved. We did nothing to draw attention to ourselves other than to be. Granted, the littlest two dripped some syrup on the table and my 4 year old got syrup on his hands. But other than that, they were model children.  On the one hand, my five month old was compared to linebackers and basketball players. On the other hand, I was reprimanded for not bundling him up, the insinuation being that he is like a newborn that can't regulate his own body temperature and that I am irresponsible. It seems that the sheer size of my family was offensive, so they were going to tease and find fault with me, even if it meant that they weren't consistent with their complaints. I mean, those men didn't bother a young couple who got out of a flashy sports car and brought in a baby in a car carrier. That infant was only dressed in a "onesie." They pestered me. They talked to me. And NOT to coo at the baby or tickle him under the chin or smile at us, to gawk, make rude comments, and to interrupt our family meal. 

And boy, taking my family out when I am visibly pregnant? That's even worse! There's no cute baby to mitigate their displeasure. Instead there's just this elephant-sized woman with a string of children. Wow, is that offensive! 

If people are so confounded by my family size, I wish that they would just be direct. I can answer questions like, "Why do you have so many kids?"  But really, I just want to eat in peace. Managing and infant, a preschooler, a kindergartener, and two older kids is enough of a distraction. :) And it's a good one.