Here, have a doughnut.

Well, our trip to the BiLo was boring (I know you all were just biting your nails in eager anticipation of a story) (*snort*). We got the middle-aged, sweet and super-efficient check out lady. Man, I wish every cashier was like her.

Oh-oh-oh! I did get a Mommy Drive-By!

When I'm alone with The Brood in a store that has carts I put the two youngest in the seats and the two oldest in the carts (sitting down quietly, of course. It drives me insane to see someone let her child stand up in a cart. Do they not realize how hard that floor is? I've seen kids reaching out with over half their bodies outside the cart. I've seen toddlers standing up in the seat!).

Where was I?

Oh, so anyway, I'm pushing the one cart (the one with the Incredible Bulk in - I keep the baby close to me) and pulling the other. Now, I'm adept at this and we proceed carefully along the side of the aisle, keeping out of folks's way and snaking around corners like a short train. Well, I came around to the front aisle and there was the Merita guy setting up the Merita doughnut display (Mmmmm ... little white powdered sugar Merita doughnuts. Food of the gods) and he's all out in the aisle so we have to do an apologetic (Excuse me! No, excuse ME!) little side step.

As I get free of the Merita guy, a mom with her approximately-Bulk's-size-baby comes past. She's a few years younger than me - late 30s - and professionally dressed. I smile and say: " excuse me" even though I'm really not in her way by that time (it's a Southern thing, we're very polite) and her gaze sweeps my carts and she says, coldly, with just a hint of disgust:

"Well, you've got YOUR hands full,"

And strides off.

Uh ... what? What did I do? So much for polite Southerners (although, to be honest, she didn't sound Southern.) I was sincerely hurt.

Was it my casual clothes, perhaps indicative of my non-working-outside-the-home status? Was it the number of children? Did she assume that I lived off of her tax dollars and that I'd gathered my fat arse up off the couch just long enough to drag into the store for cigarettes and some TV dinners and cold cereal? Was she suffering secondary infertility and just disgruntled at any display of fecundity? Was she just a bitch? Was she just having a bad day and tired?

I'd like to go for the last one, please. That's what I keep telling myself.

I mean, I might be amused by (and blog about) some strange people, but I'd never treat another mom badly unless she was endangering her child. I've seen children who were thin, pale, with matted hair and dark circles under their eyes. I've seen kids in tee-shirts and a diaper in 40 degree weather. I've seen young mothers right outside the WalMart in a cloud of cigarette smoke holding their newborns (yes, that was Lexington). These people deserve some disgust.

As far as I'm concerned, if your kid appears healthy and happy and is well behaved, I'm cool.

I sure hope my drive-by mommy got herself some of those little doughnuts and went through the sweet and super-efficient cashier's line ... and I hope that her day got better.