Were You Offering?

Two.

Apparently it's so much easier than 3.

Not children (although I'm sure the same holds water), apparently people are warning me about age.

This was a part of the warnings, words of encouragement, complaints and eye rolls I received in the produce section of my grocery store this morning.

As Elliot laughed and Jane's life misery alternated between being stuck in the cart, riding in the front or walking next to Mommy, the seasoned adults walked by my show and offered their 2 cents.

I find myself wondering when they tell me this is an easy time: Are they offering to take Jane in the meantime?

One woman actually did last week. There I was, in the frozen food section, and a middle-aged woman with pins, bangles and nails like small knives held her hands forward to my screaming Jane twisting in my arms and said, "Oh, I'll take you. Come with me. Do you want to come home with me? I'm a kindergarten teacher and I'd love to have you come home with me."

Jane stopped screaming and began clinging to my neck. I wonder if that was the woman's intent.

I really don't mind the advice. I can even take the the eye rolls largely coming from the elderly crowd in semi-stride (I assume they've had their fill of screaming children). The encouragement, obviously it stops me from running from the store and hiding in my home during normal hours. It's comments like "It gets worse."

Really? Perhaps this will be me in 10 years when I'm past the baby stages.

But I like to think I'll be the caustic adult walking by and laughing.