It takes all kinds

I like to think of myself as open-minded. And why not? I want the giant redwood trees to thrive, the thought of a White House free of Republicans makes me giddy as all get up and when it comes to parenting I am of the mind that if you put your heart into it every day then things will likely turn out fairly well. Or so I thought. I am beginning to think that maybe I am just as uptight and close minded as the next fool.
I work with this woman who although she drives me absolutely nuts, I kind of like her. I can’t help but like her, really. She is so gleefully tickled at being alive and being her that it is hard to ignore her happiness. It is as though she has a fluffy Golden Retriever tail and just can’t help but wag it at every person in her path. All day long. But it isn’t her incessant happiness that has prompted me to question my beliefs on acceptance, it is her parenting. A nursery is fertile ground for moms who want/need to work but who can’t or won’t part themselves from their spawn. I ought to know, I got sucked into this gig when I had Devon and couldn’t bring myself to entrust him to a daycare. This woman, I’ll call her Tammy Fae because her real name is too unusual to mention, has arrived in my nursery this season with her eight month old daughter attached. And I do mean attached, as in velcroed to her naked, bared breasts at all times. Which I can handle. I nursed Devon until he was 18 months-old, albeit it far more privately. But I do believe the breast is best. And yet it isn’t the constant breast feeding that drives me nuts, although it does cut down on productivity and I have come to the conclusion that we pay her simply to be eye candy for the rest of the poor babies who must wait every three hours for their paltry ration of breast milk that comes in measly bottles. What drives me to the brink of wanting to smash in her happy face is her constant, and I do mean constant, dribble drabble of parenting commentary that she imparts on any ear unfortunate enough to be near her. The most recent bit truly drove me over the edge and has left me with nightmares that I simply can’t shake and that has left me unable to eat. It goes something like this…A few days ago Tammy Fae was yabbering on about her offspring, Love Baby, and how her physical development was simply amazing and consisted of previously unheard of progress. I was zoning her out until she said to me, “Heeeeaaather, (she tends to drag out her vowels and gesture with her hands, oblivious of anything she might be hitting) would you believe my husband finds me absoluuuutely disgusting?”
I tuned in because I thought this might be something I might actually agree with. I wanted to ignore her but I played the game and bit, “Um, no. Tammy Fae. I didn’t”
“Why, yeeeees, he does. You see Luuuuuuuuv Baby is learning to eat table food and is luuuuuuuuuving it! But I once read somewhere that a baby digests food better if it has first been chewed and digested.”
She blinked up at me with her big, happy eyes and I could practically feel the air beating from her happy Golden tail. But I knew where this was heading and I so didn’t want to go there. But since I am technically her boss and really should model good behavior, I kept at it and said, “Um, right. Well, yes. In nature that is definitely a weaning technique.” But see, I knew she wasn’t intending to let up with the whole exposed breast thing. She wasn’t indeed weaning so I began to feel animosity towards her for once again getting sucked into her hoo-ha love child thing.
Tammy Fae giggled amd said, “Exaaaaactly! You are so right and Luuuuuuv Man just doesn’t understand when I chew up Luuuuuuv Baby’s dinner and then spit it out on the table. Heeeeee thinks it’s gross!”
“No? Dogs do it. Birds. All sorts of animals. It’s perfectly natural.” I replied feeling rather evil at this point.
“I’m soooooo glad you agree, Heeeeather! I feel so much better now!” And she truly did look at me with happiness in her eyes.
I am so going to hell.