The past couple of weeks I have been hearing the same comments over and over.
"Wow. You have your hands full!"
Do they mean I look frazzled, tired, unshowered and overwhelmed with 3 little ones? Are my kids too loud and wild in the supermarket and the person can't imagine having to round them up while buying a week's worth of food? I can see them looking from face to face wondering who is related to whom, noting that my genes are either recessive or nonexistant.
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"Wow, you must be busy!" Maybe they are impressed at my bravery for taking three active little ones out in public without leashes, who are moderately well-behaved and who listen most of the time. Maybe they see the evidence of paint and markers and playdough on their hands and clothes, and hear the laughing and shrieking at private jokes that outsiders would not understand. Maybe they watch as I hold Maya while I juggle my grocery list, remember to get the donation of 3 boxes of cereal bars, instruct Tonito to grab the lowest box of Cheerios, and move Vivi closer to the cart, which I am pushing with my hip to allow the woman on the cell phone to pass us without running over toes. Maybe they wonder if they would have the patience, strength, and sense of humor needed to deal with preschoolers.
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Or maybe they are just bored and wish they could have as much fun as we do, get as many hugs as we do, and feel as proud as we do.
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