The Two Types of People

    I have learned, after having three children, that there are two types of people. Type One: Those who believe some parents incapable of raising their children and verbally point out the parents' missteps and Type Two: Those who respect the parent for undertaking the responsibilities of parenthood and keep their critiques to themselves. I had the great fortune (maybe?) of meeting both today.
    From my experiences, I find that I am predisposed to meeting the Type One(s) of the world. It's like I wear a sign that says: "Hey, this woman with three little kids, needs you to critique her parenting and control her actions. ASAP." I say this because I have some of the most bizarre experiences when I'm out and about, and from what I can tell, the situations I find myself in are unique to me. My friends just laugh and wonder how I attract all the 'know-it-alls.'
    Take today (which happens to be one of the best examples on record now), I was completely accosted by Type One at Target. Now, I love Target and I shop there once a week (as some of you know). I completely enjoy my weekly Target experience. And this woman totally ruined it. When we go to Target, I get the cadillac of carts (the one with the two extra seats in front). Evelynn and Caelan sit right in front of me and, up until today, McKenna sat in the 'regular' child's seat of the cart. We didn't get too far when McKenna stood up. Brannon rule: When you start standing up in the seat of the cart, you ride in the cart so you can stand up. McKenna has only been standing up for a couple of weeks; she loves it and she doesn't move, not even to sit down. She was positively thrilled to be standing up (some of you saw the photo I posted to FB).
    About 15 minutes later, I walked past a woman, her husband, and their one child, somewhere between Caelan and McKenna in age. This woman is Type One. She immediately told me that I should watch my child (McKenna) because she could fall out of the cart onto the floor which could result in a trip to the ER. I politely ignored her, and had an inward laugh after I found myself thinking "I've been in the North way too long" because I was offended that a stranger dare speak to me. She doesn't know me, she doesn't know my kids. I walked on.
    I went on with my shopping. Now, Caelan does not sit still very long. At some point she will hang on the bar that also pushes the cart. She just hangs, no swinging from it, no trying to climb/stand on it (surprising, I know), and I put my hands over hers as we go so I know if she starts to slip. Type One appears out of nowhere. "You really need to make sure your children are sitting down. She (Caelan) is not safe." At this point I kind of give the woman the 'look.' You know, the one that says "Are you for real? Are you really telling me that I'm not caring for my children properly?" I less politely ignored her and moved on.
    I needed a few things still but was really just in the mood to leave Target at this point, especially after I realize Type One is stalking me. I decided to finish up at Wegman's (grocery store), so I went to the Target check out. No sooner had I stopped at the counter, stalker Type One took her place in line behind me. You have to be kidding me, right? Things start unraveling. Caelan decided to hit Evelynn with a little gardening shovel that was from the $1 bin. I took the offending object. Needed to pay for it any way. Yes, my sweet Caelan pitched a fit. See where this is going? Type One tells me "You really need to make sure your children take a nap, especially that one (pointing at Caelan)." Ummm, my blood is starting to boil. Whatever. We can make it out of here without an altercation. Politeness is no longer there. Just ignore this person.
    But wouldn't you know that the person in front of me is taking forever. To get Caelan to stop crying, I have the girls help me put the items up on the counter for the cashier. The girls love to do this. The crying stops. Apparently, however, when the girls stepped off the cart, Caelan's vest fell on the floor. Type One dramatically picks it up and hands it to me. Then in a very condescending tone tells me " YOU almost forgot this." Uh, thanks. My kids would have picked it up when they got back in. Mumbled my thanks and continued to ignore. Okay. How much longer in line? Relief is in sight! It's my turn!! All my items are just about bagged up and in my cart. We are almost out of here and away from Type One, but she finds one more opportunity to question my ability to parent. She reaches into my cart and grabs the two Barbie mermaids that my daughters brought in with them to amuse themselves and says, "You should really make sure you pay for these before you leave the store." I'm done. Completely. Who is this woman anyway? She reached into my cart, in my children's personal space? Oh, no, ma'am. My response to Type One? "Those are Happy Meal toys they brought in with them and I think it's time for you to mind your own business." Funny part about this? She looked at me completely offended that I would say that to her.
    Type One's story happens to me fairly frequently. It seems that the purpose is to make me feel like a careless mother, one who is insane for having three so close in age, and for bringing them into public. And while I know these things aren't true, I do tend to go about my business in trepidation, thinking that there will inevitably be someone to completely ruin my shopping experience. That's how I entered Wegman's. Anxious that my children would go crazy and that I would have a throw down with the next busy-body that crossed my path. Wegman's was great. There were no major meltdowns, no craziness, no kids hanging off the cart (but here the girls ride in the 'car' so it's way more cool and they get to see the train). It was pleasant-- a relief after Target. Then we get to check out. McKenna is way overdue for a nap but her fussiness is somewhat pacified with snacks and my keys.Evelynn and Caelan start playing "touch me not" and getting upset with each other. Really just typical sibling stuff. I notice the woman in front of us is watching them scuffle. I wait anxiously, praying she doesn't say anything about their 'behavior' or that I should really be doing something I'm not. She doesn't say anything until she catches my eye. It's then she says "I had three really close together. They are much older now, but I remember that age and how much fun it was." I feel my eyes burn. Thank you, Type Two.