Before
becoming a parent, for me, the key in life to break the ice with
people was cigarette. That little white stick had allowed me to
struck up countless conversations with perfect strangers in need of a
light or a spare one. The crowd was varied, but it had this in
common, the sweet smell of success, and an addiction that we all knew
we had to kick, but that was just too good to do so right now. We
were all addicts, and felt secretly hip being so. Somehow, the
smoking crowd always counted the coolest, most popular or most sought
after individuals of any given click, it is a statistical fact that
there is a higher rate of very interesting people amongst smokers
compared to non smokers or so I thought.
Parenthood
having made me a non-smoker, I have discovered a whole new way to
start a conversation with a stranger.
These
days I feel like one of those silent product demonstrators from the
shopping channel. People address me while looking at him. Ever since
my bundle of joy came into my life I have spoken with more strangers
than I can count without ever meeting their eyes, which are riveted
on my child’s face.
I
take it as a compliment.
People
from all walks of life feel like they can address me to comment on
everything and anything related to my son. His big eyes, the shape of
his eyebrows, his cuteness, and the fact that he probably looks more
like my husband than me.
I've
also had to play the host of "the age is right" game on a
daily basis.
To
all of the above, my response is generally a silent smile, "9
months and a few days", or a grateful "thank you".
While
I have come to realize that children are like a hot lamp on a pile of
snow for most people, I have also began to experience a level of
familiarity with perfect strangers that can make me, on good days
slightly uncomfortable and on other days downright angry.
While
I find it a wonderful thing that people feel some concern for someone
else’s child, I have also come to think that a massive educational
campaign needs to be put in place by governments around the globe to
educate their citizens about this most dreadful of dangers, being
dressed inappropriately for the weather.
It
would seem that perfect strangers know better than me that my baby is
too cold or too hot.
In
effect just today a kind gentleman who must have been in his late
60’s addressed me in the most delightful manner when he tapped his
head with one hand while pointing at my son with the other as he
growled « his head is going to be cold! » To which I promptly
replied a « no, no, he is fine! » which was right away countered by
« no it’s too cold! Put a hat on him!»
It
is not the first nor the last time, I am afraid, that such remarks
are made to me and that my competence as a mother is put into
question by well-meaning passersby. But where, I ask myself, do these
people come from or rather when
do
they come from? Is it possible that evolution has made babies more
resistant to temperature fluctuation in the space of one generation?
Were our grandparents traumatized by visits to hospital wards full of
babies whose indignant mothers had omitted to place a bonnet over
their heads? Or is global warming really affecting us more than we
realize?
As
far as I remember from my prenatal classes, if you are cold
probabilities are, so is your baby, if you are too hot probabilities
are, so is your baby. Now I don't believe that my mama trained me to
be a navy seal, so I will carry on not dressing my baby appropriately
and will ignore cold war era standards of dressing.
I
also feel that another area of public education needs to be addressed
by the authorities.
I
now see posters in most public restrooms explaining to us in details
how to wash our hands, from turning the tap on to throwing away the
paper towel; I feel that a bit more education on this sensitive area
of our body would also be beneficial to the population. It would only
require one little extra sticker on the mirrors of our public
latrines:Hands off strangers' babies!
Everyone
seems to have an urge to slip their fingers in the palm of my baby's
hand and get squeezed by those tiny muscles. Why Oh Why? I ask. Has
theH1N1 scare taught us nothing? I feel like spraying any stranger
approaching us with a good dose of purell, but alas I do not draw
fast enough yet, and so, my son has already been exposed to many
germs of untraceable origins. To defend him against his assailants I
have tried a few techniques, I whished that all of them stayed within
the framework of diplomatic codes so as not to antagonize anyone in
my neighborhood. Unfortunately Noam's teething and the TV series the
Tudors have kept me awake lately and my diplomatic skills have been
somewhat diminished. If I had to list my "Stranger keep your
fingers off my son" techniques in diplomatic order from top to
bottom it would resemble this: Technique 1 : grab hold of my son's
hands before the assailant, best approach by far but unfortunately
not always practical while running errands. Technique 2: the sly
move, as the assailant approaches I try to feign seeing someone in
the distance and move to salute them from afar. This one has left me
looking slightly crazy in the eyes of passers-by seeing me wave at
the invisible man. Technique 3: Put gloves on him. Limited, off
course, by weather conditions and can backfire since, the assailant,
unable to reach its target might go for the face instead. Technique
4: Just plainly say to the assailant; I don't want anyone, whom I
have not seen wash their hands with my own eyes first, touch my son's
hands ...mmkay. I had to use that one in a supermarket once while the
cigarette smelling lady demonstrating cheese looked at me and asked
with utter incomprehension in her eyes: "but why?" to which
I blurted out "because I don't like it" this was followed
by a very awkward silence while the people tasting a 5 year old
cheddar stared at me gawping. This egged me on to explain that babies
put their hands in their mouths all day long, that hands are the
number one germs carrier, and that strangers should understand that
they are basically slapping all of their microbes onto those little
hands. I guess the fact that the only make up I had on were the dark
circles left by another sleepless night, and the slight aggressive
tone of my voice blurred the very simple message I was trying to
deliver. That is why I call on health Canada to help me educate the
public on this very touchy issue.
