Today was a perfect reminder of why I named my blog Really?!

I took the kids to see Zach at work and almost immediately regretted it. Normally I regret public appearances because a kid has soiled him/herself and the stench is unbearable. Other times it’s because I forgot to tweeze my uni-brow and at the worst possible time, Brady yells, “WHY YOU HAVE ALL DAT HAIR ON YOUR FACE?” But today, it was the adults who made me want to turn and run.

We entered the main office to a throng of people just waiting to touch my kids. I tried my best not to break out the sanitizer right then and there and figured we would only be in the office for a second or two, right? Wrong. The shrieks of “THERE’S A BABY HERE!” filled the air. The screech of chairs being pushed back from desks and the clippity-clop of shoes overwhelmed me. I knew it was happening, but there was nothing I could do to stop it: the secretaries descended.

Mind you, I love me a secretary. They deserve the big paycheck, as they really hold the place together. But there is something about small children in their office that kinda makes them nuts. Today was no different. Enter: diarrhea mouth.

What is diarrhea mouth? you ask. Allow me: it’s when people say stupid crap and they just can’t stop. Makes sense now, huh?

If one more woman asked if Brady was adopted or if he really belonged to me or–my personal favorite–if he knew he was shipped in from Sweden, I was going to attack. I can take a joke, I really can. I enjoy a good laugh, just not at my child’s expense. He’s two, he’s not deaf. It’s only a matter of time before he actually starts feeling like he’s not a part of our family as a result of diarrhea mouthed people. And this isn’t the first time we’ve been barraged by such questions.

A few weeks ago after church, a woman (who did not fall into the age group where such commentary is acceptable) stopped us to compliment the kids. Proud Mama that I am, I smiled while she bestowed kind words upon my beauties…until I heard her say: “They’re both gorgeous, but Brady more so. Sorry, Ella!” REALLY?! It was church; I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say. Although, I think Jesus would have understood. (Right now I’m having a serious case of deja vu; if I’ve already written about this, I have officially gone insane. I’ll keep writing from the asylum; I’m thinking the inspiration there will be priceless).

It’s no secret that Brady’s white blond hair is in sharp contrast to his sister’s head of chestnut-brown locks. His blue eyes do stand out among mine and Zach’s hazels and Ella’s big brown peepers. He knows as much; he’s said as much: “Mine eyes are blue like da’ ocean. Why aren’t Ella’s?” I simply tell him that’s the way God made us. That’s my answer when he asks about different skin color, different hobbies (the child does NOT understand why I’m not as enthusiastic about golf as he and his dad are. Let me count the ways…), or why some trees are green and others are not.

It’s one thing to make an observation (“Wow, Steph, they are complete opposites!”). It’s quite another to make comments directly to or in front of Brady (“Does the mailman have big blue eyes like yours?”). Fortunately, Brady has his dad’s easy-going disposition. Even if he did understand what these morons are insinuating, he would probably just smile politely. But also like his dad, Brady is super sensitive and it’s only a matter of time until he does start understanding and begins feeling self-conscious as a result. The only person that is sending either of my kids to therapy is ME; I’ll be damned if some stranger off the street and his remark that Brady is “the thing that doesn’t belong–remember that Sesame Street skit?!” will be the cause.

A Facebook friend who is irritated by passers-by’s incessant questions about her sons’ two Moms offered this little gem: rather than implement my original plan (kick the next question-asker directly in the crotch), I should use my wit:

Loser: “Wow! Does Zach know Brady isn’t his?!”

Me: “Yes, he does, and we’re working through it the best we can. Do you have the number of a good marriage counselor?”


A-hole: “Your son really doesn’t look a thing like you!”

Me: “That’s not necessarily true; if you could have seen me when I was a man, there’s a real resemblance.”


Thankfully, this FB pal is also a lawyer, so if I have to resort to physical violence, she’s willing to represent me.


3 thoughts on “REALLY?!

  1. When my son was younger he was very blonde. I am not, but I was when I was little. That’s what I tell people. Re-directing their attention away from my very sensitive son to a random fact they find hard to believe has saved me from many assault charges.

  2. People are idiots. I actually can see a bit of you and Zach in each kid. They are both beauties! But, if you do go postal on the next a-hole, please blog about that experience in detail 🙂

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