When I run errands with my two girls, there are a handful of things that typically happen. The combination of automatic doors and Midwest politeness means there’s almost always help getting in and out of a store. There are remarks about the girls being cute, or questions about their ages. A lot of times at the grocery store, people will say Stella is such a good helper as she wheels around her Stella-sized cart while I push Margot in the stroller.
The questions and comments are something I don’t mind; in many ways I’ve grown used to unsolicited conversations with strangers ever since the first time I was pregnant. Often they’re well-meaning, but can stray into inappropriate town. “When are you due? What are you having? Are you having twins?” Over time I think all moms learn how to smile, nod, and be polite when faced with the infinite and limited loop of questions about themselves and/or their children.
But the seemingly innocent, throwaway comment that grinds my gears the most is when someone says, “you have your hands full.” At least people have enough of a filter to leave out the “wow” or “eesh” or “good luck to you, lady.” The sight of a woman simultaneously pushing a stroller and pulling a cart with another kid riding shotgun must seem overwhelming enough to elicit this response. To me, it’s a Thursday.
This proclamation clearly has a negative, glad-I’m-not-in-your-shoes connotation. It doesn’t offer something positive, it doesn’t lend a hand. It’s also stating the obvious. Yes, this shopping trip would probably (okay definitely) be more productive if I were flying solo right now. Yes, I am rolling deep with two ladies under the age of five. My hair is also brown.
What’s annoying is that I thought I was kicking ass in this department. I have figured out where to park and who to unbuckle first and the easiest way to navigate a store. More often than not, shopping trips with my little ladies have been relatively pain-free up to this point, save for the mid-trip potty break for Stella or digging through my bag to find a toy for Margot that’ll keep her occupied for a few more minutes. Yet nearly every time I’m shopping with the both of them, I hear it. “You have your hands full!”
I don’t need a medal or a pat on the back for doing what people do each and every day, even though a successful errand with kids can feel like a personal triumph. I also don’t need a stranger’s verbal assessment of what I have going on. In this increasingly scary and wild world, filled with hateful people and extreme weather events and devastation, my “hands full” is pretty low on the totem pole compared to what others are dealing with.
When it comes down to it, moms are pretty incredible. My cousin Alexis just flew alone with her four children back to Germany, where they are living the next couple years for her husband’s job. My friend Amy sent me a Snapchat today of herself having to pump on the floor near a choir room at her school. My friend Stephanie teaches Zumba throughout the week and does graphic design work while her girls are napping. My friend Julia taught yoga up until the day she gave birth her second daughter.
That is just a handful of the amazing, multitasking moms I have the pleasure of knowing. We’re all doing our best and kicking ass and don’t have time for people saying our hands are full instead of helping hold the door or giving a smile that says “you got this, girl” or simply going about their own days without the running commentary.
Yes, sir, I guess my hands are full. So is my heart.
Now can you please move your cart so mama can get her hands on some of that Halo Top?