The other night was one experience I’ll probably never forget–unfortunately. Before I tell the tale, though, I got to thinking about that show with John Quiñones, “What Would You Do?” When does stepping into another’s business go to far?
So, as many of you know, I’m in Manhattan, New York for the July 4th holiday. I love Manhattan, but let’s be honest, it’s not the most baby friendly place. I’ve said it before, “I have a life” and we’ve been going on with that life doing normal things, like going for walks, subway rides and dinner. Yes, even dinner… I eat–when the baby allows me to–and in order to do so I sometimes have to leave the hotel. Imagine that!
So here goes it… the gory tale of a night out with the baby. Several of us, 14 to be exact, travel uptown to Times Square for dinner at The Trailer Park–an awesome place if you get the chance to visit. We enjoy dinner and each other’s company, but remember, I’m packing the baby. Being that she’s a baby, she eats and poops and sometimes–it’s so much better as she gets older–cries. This time, though, the fiasco involves poop.
My darling little girl decides to have a blowout. Not being a baby-conscious restaurant of course, there is no changing table in the restroom. Go figure. My husband, being an awesome dad and of a big stature, proceeds to change her as I’m already anticipating a problem. Why? you ask. Well, because
some people are just rude and nasty. We used a small table behind us–mind you, we’re in the back of the restaurant with no one around except for the occasional traffic to and from the restroom and there is NO changing table in said restroom–to change her WITH A CHANGING PAD BETWEEN HER BUTT AND THE TABLE. A couple of people came and went, the waitress included, and paid no attention EXCEPT for one.
Oh she gave the stink eye loud and clear on her way in to the restroom, but it’s what happened on her way out that had me sharpening my momma bear claws and nearly scratching her eyes out. I still can’t tell you what allowed me to keep my cool… saving grace maybe. So, she stops and says to me something along the lines of not believing that we’re changing a baby there. Well, it’s not like I wanted to change my baby there, but I didn’t have much choice. I knew better, but I engaged anyway feeling the need to explain myself. Tactfully, yet matter-of-fact, I asked what she suggested since there was no changing table in the restroom. BIG mistake.
I was told that I should not go to places where I can’t change my baby. WHAT? Well, as I’ve blogged in previous posts, there are a lot of places I guess I can’t go to if that’s the case. This statement from an opinionated idiot boiled my blood and got me on my feet in a hurry with my chest puffed up and in her face while she called me a “bad parent”–I guess a good parent would allow her child to sit in a poop-filled diaper. At this point, I was pretty angered, but calmly told her to walk away and mind her own business. She escalated and it led to my husband telling her to “beat it” as if he were speaking to a dog. Security had to come and corral her. Only in a trailer park!
Why she felt it her business to get in mine, I’ll never know. If it truly upset her she should’ve taken it up with management, not me. So, back to Quiñones. When does getting involved go to far? I understand getting involved if I were beating or berating my kid, but I was taking care of a basic need and looking out for her best interest. So, I’m curious, what would you do? Let your kid sit in a soiled diaper? I didn’t even have a stroller that I could’ve used as she was in a chest pack.
If you have a nasty comment, you’re not welcome here.