That’s me. S told me one time on the phone that I would become a Mama Bear. She was right.
Easter dinner. Tons of family. Family that has been fractured since my grandfather’s death last May. Family that includes grandpa’s girlfriend – who only about 1/3 of us really like (but she’s rich, right, so let’s keep her around…that’s what the other 2/3 things anyway…). Grandpa’s girlfriend once called my husband racist.
I really wanted to point out that my racist husband was holding our African American/Hispanic son, but I refrained.
Everybody wanted to hold Little Man. While he’s teething. And dressed in his finery in 80 degree weather (I eventually stripped him down to just a onesie, but I had to get a picture first!).
So that’s when the “advice” starts. No sooner do we sit down to eat (with Little Man snoozing away in his carseat in the quieter front room) than people start in:
“He’s too hot.”
“He can sleep in here” (with the radio and dinner conversation)
“Heat up his formula”
“Give him a frozen french fry for teething”
“Rub some whisky on his gums”
“He’s too hot”
“He better never wear his pants down around his butt” (this from my uncle, whose 22 year old daughter dresses like a $22, well…what’s a nice word? street walker)
“He’s too hot”
“He can watch ‘The Blind Side,’ it’s just football”
“What do you mean you don’t want him watching TV?”
“He’s too hot” (notice a theme, here???????)
“He doesn’t need a pacifier”
“Give him rice in his formula – he’ll sleep through the night”
“He sounds congested”
“He’s sick – he has a cold”
“He’s too young to be teething.”
Eventually, I’d had enough. I not-so-subtly convinced my husband it was time to head to his mom’s house. We loaded up and my uncle said something about how they had to listen to advice – they gave my mom tons of advice – didn’t I realize that. I said, “well, she was divorced at that point, so I hope you were a little nicer to her.”
Then I left.
I love my family, but seriously? I’m the mama. I know what he needs.