The Ill Will of Strangers

I went to Walmart today. A huge UGGGHHH with four children by yourself on any given day. We live in a rural area about 100 miles outside of New York City. "Upstate" if you will. We have a couple of stores in our own town, both of the Mom and Pop and the chain variety. Although in our particular town we seem to be overloaded with the "dollar" stores. We have a Dollar Tree, a Dollar General, a Family Dollar and even a new addition of "A Dollar & More Mall". But other than the grocery store or the Rite-Aid branch we can only visit a Blockbuster or a Tractor Supply. So if we need a package of undershirts, a yard of fabric or birthday party toy we must go to the next town over. The box store in all it's flat roofed, horrible lighting, warehouse feeling glory.

Today we needed some last minute ribbons for a project for camp. We went right after Seth's saxophone lesson. It was late morning and all was pretty much fine with the Desrochers brothers. Were they thrilled to be dragged to the store overrun with summer residents and camp employees? Not really. We all like to avoid the Walmart in the summer time when our local population triples for those two months. But they were dealing with it.

We got the things we needed. We headed to the checkout line. Where the inevitable comments start. To which I smile curtly and reply. But by the time I get to the exit of the store I am met with the short little Santa Claus look-alike greeter. The same guy we see almost weekly year round. And he says "How many of these are yours". Of course, in the midst of the summer "traffic" of store patrons he does not recognize my sons. But must he refer to them like the packages of diapers on the shelves? But he doesn't leave it there. When I reply that yes, all of these little people are my offspring he asks his next lovely question. "Are they all boys?" I look at them, all dressed in decidedly male clothes. All with definite male haircuts. I state what I feel is the obvious. Yes, indeed they are all boys. To which he replies, to my utter horror with all of my young sons standing right there, "Wow, I really feel sorry for you". I turned my back to him and pushed my cart out of the store. My sons need not witness two adults with horrid manners in one day.

But this leads me to what I feel I must say. I have four sons. When we started having children did I think that I would have four of the same sex? No, I did not. I thought I would have a mix of both. I knew we would have two or four, that was our agreement. When Seth and Gabriel were four years apart we knew we would have another. After Nate was born, we knew there would be a fourth. We are both from families with three children. We were trying to avoid the odd man out. Never did we think there would be four boys. But you know what? Once every last one of them entered my life I cannot imagine it without them. Seth and his fashion sensibilities and charisma that he makes a friend of everyone. Gabriel and his "dimple power" and trademark smirk. Nathan and his intensity who also finds everything and everyone humorous. And Eli, with his quiet nature, but infectious open mouthed laugh. They are my children. I love them deeply, completely, fiercely.

So how dare you, random stranger, open you mouth to only let obnoxious idiotic comments to spew. Especially in the presence of my offspring's young ears. I hate to admit how often this happens to us. Almost daily we hear about our reproduction habits, whether or not we have TV to watch at night, are we building this form of sporting team or that, and wow, are we just going to keep going until we get a girl. Do they truly want me to respond with what I deem as equally inappropriate answers? I have been working on a few. Well, there would have been two others but I miscarried them. I truly do enjoy my husband and wife relationship with my Daddy D, thanks for asking. And no, we aren't going to keep going to get a girl-when I had my last c-section with Eli I had them tie my tubes.

But in the end I keep my tongue in check. More importantly, thus far my children seem to not really react. Even the three year old will talk to you about "the brothers". They refer to themselves at that. They are proud of their bond and their numbers. They love being The Desrochers Brothers. In the end, I guess that is all that matters.