Guess who was a big boy and took care of a baby all alone for four hours? This guy! It would have been longer, but he needed the boob and I had run out of the pumped stuff. Being a dad has introduced me to a group of people who I had not dealt with before. Opinionated, baby loving, people. These women are a different breed. Yes, I may have taken a lil trip to Target with the Cazzizzle (that’s his nickname… Kinsey hates it), and I had to deal with the “get all up in the baby’s face” crowd. That was easy, I just covered his car seat with a blanket, and started telling people it was a doll for my high school project. That worked because I cant grow facial hair and still look like I am 17… a rough 17, but 17, nonetheless.
Getting to the diaper isle was where it went down hill. I got on the phone with Kinsey because I needed to know the brand of diapers we use. I like the ones we use because they have a blue line that indicate when he has peed and pooped. That makes it simple, and I like that. You don’t want this guy guessing when a diaper change should happen. In fact, I wish my underwear had a line that told me if they were dirty so that I don’t double wear them.
When I get off the phone, I notice a woman standing near me. She was there with another woman, who looked like her sister, but she was not into talking to me. She was too busy looking at baby stuff. Without even saying hello, this woman next to me starts telling me that I need to use cloth diapers. Why? I don’t know, something about the environment. I just said, thank you for the advice, and tried to walk away. That’s when I heard her say, “of course he wants to be uppity.” First of all, I was a bit excited because I have never been called “uppity”. My second thought was, “can you be uppity if you are shopping for on sale baby stuff at Target?” I feel Kellie Rasberry’s pain now. So I turned around and politely said, “excuse me?!” She then told me some informative/opinionative stuff… I was not listening because she had a huge piece of pepper stuck to her tooth. I do know she was questioning my choices a daddy, and she said the word diaper a few times. Once her mouth stopped showing off the huge piece of pepper, I looked at her and said, “if I want to buy a diaper that has a blue line to let me know when my kid peed… that’s up to me. Its my son, not yours. Get off your high horse of judgement, lady hanging with her sister or friend in the baby isle while waiting for a new dad to come by so you can try to make him feel like he sucks! And one more thing, that huge piece of pepper distracted me the whole time and I can’t even be mad right now because I dont know what you said! I just want to buy diapers and go home.”
Ok, I didnt say that to her. I just said, “thank you for your opinion.” I wussed out. I understand that people like babies. Now I understand that people will voice their opinion about babies without any sort of invitation. How come nobody ever tells me when I put my shirt on backwards, or when I have stain on my pants, or when I am wearing a sweater that looks like a peacock (like the one Kidd was wearing yesterday), or when I leave the sticker on the jeans after buying new ones? But when I go buy diapers, I have to put up with Super Cloth Diaper Woman. I am just going to keep up the “its just a doll” trick. People don’t seem to care about a guy walking around with a baby doll.
With that said, I do value people’s opinions. I may not agree with some, but on the other hand, I may learn something. I would rather keep the tips and advice on my facebook where I can pick and choose. haha. I may have just been a little baffled that a stranger would question me about my baby product choices out of the blue like that. Now I understand what my friends with babies meant when they said that “everyone will voice their opinion.”
Moral of the story: cloth diapers can be a bit more messy. My mama told me so, because I wore them and stained a bunch of my dads pants as a baby.
bonus moral of the story: don’t we all wear cloth diapers as adults? We just changed the name to underwear, and we don’t pee in them.
third moral of the story: Cason turned 4 weeks old, and we learned he hates ties: