Men O Pause

Last week while we were in Kroger Carolena was "driving" one of the big car shopping carts and we were perusing the manager special shelves. Yes, I'll admit it: I'm a dented can purchaser. There is just something about a half smushed can of pumpkin that really calls out to me. As we're cruising down the aisle Carolena randomly begins to reach out of the car to try and snag some candy as she drives by. I automatically cry out, "please keep your hands and arms inside the moving vehicle!" (my family went to Disney a lot). Just as this is happening and Carolena is pulling her arm back into the car (sans candy), a man next to me shrugs his shoulders and says to me, "hmph, female drivers, eh?!" My clergy spouse 101 training kicked in and I half-smiled half-frowned politely and noncommittally. Inside I was thinking, "uh... keep moving man. Did you fail to notice that I am in fact a female? And judging by the fact that the only male in my company is a baby, chances are that I was the one who drove to this store. If you are full of crazy sexist comments you are talking to the wrong woman." I hope his wife elbowed him in the ribcage as they walked away and muttered, "well, you really made an ass of yourself back there." Hopefully she also insisted on driving home.

Later on in the week I found myself exhausted and sweaty and standing with a baby on my hip in the middle of the Y parking lot. My toddler was taking the opportunity to declare publicly that she regretted asking me to carry her all of the way to the car and would like to go back to the entrance and try again, this time walking to the car. My tired postbodypump arms agreed with her that in fact she should have walked the first time, but there was no way I was walking there and back again for no reason. As Carolena thrashed and screamed mere feet from our car, a couple walked by staring. Just as they were passing by the man called out, "You're not doing a very good job mom!" Yes, he really did. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt that he intended it as interpreting my toddler's screams. And yet... really man? You couldn't stop and offer to help me? You couldn't stand nearby to help us out in case a car came? At the very least you could have looked away politely. Come on! I hope his wife elbowed him in the ribcage as they walked away and muttered, "well, you really made an ass of yourself back there."


Dear Men,
Pause. Rewind. Let's try that again. Next time: offer help or just keep walking.
Love, Casey