Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Well today was a bust.  Tuesdays are pick-up day from our farm share but I had to go all the way into Boston to pick up something from my printer.  I had checked the weather and was expecting it to sprinkle...not pour.  Little G and I walked into our village and made a deposit at the bank and then walked to the commuter rail to catch what he affectionately calls 'the Daddy Train'.  We got into the city and I realized it was starting to rain but didn't think too much of it.

I had wanted to go to a local store and try out the rumble seat and the 'piggy back' which is a ride-on attachment that goes on the back of the stroller.  Unfortunately, they didn't have the latter in stock and the former only goes to 35 lbs.  Since Little G is already 32 lbs, that wouldn't have worked for us.

So we headed to the printers...but by that time it was raining really hard.  So I tried to put the rain cover on the stroller and Little G had a MAJOR conniption fit over it.  He screamed and thrashed in his stroller (another reason I'm glad to use the VISTA, which is a bigger stroller and strong enough to contain a thrashing 32lb toddler) until we got to the printers.  The building the printer is in has apparently been bought and is being converted into condos so there is a lot of construction around.  Today, there were picketers outside protesting one of the construction companies.  And even though it was pouring out, and even though it is a tight squeeze to get the door when there ISN'T construction or picketers, and even though I am VISIBLY GINORMOUSLY PREGNANT, when I swallowed my I'll-do-it-myself pride and asked for help with the door, the picketer I asked said "No." and sheepishly gestured to his sign.  Ass.  Hole.

Once I finally struggled my way into the building I had to wait for the elevator for over 7 minutes, which seems like nothing unless you are right in the middle of a construction zone with a screaming, thrashing toddler.  I finally was able to get the elevator into the basement and picked up my print job and made my way back up the elevator and through the tight, construction filled lobby and out the teeny door.  As I was exiting, another construction worker was entering and he apparently was so adamant about getting past the picketers that he didn't realize I had a stroller behind me and tried to push his way past me but couldn't get very far because of my stroller so I ended up running him over as I was trying to exit.

But none of that even compares to what happened next.  Because I had to go pick up our vegetables and it was still pouring, I decided to get on the bus that goes directly to the area in town where the stand is.  It was going to be a longer trip, but it meant that we would have less to walk on the other end.  I got on the bus and it wasn't air conditioned and it was hot and sticky and awful so I took my jacket off.  But underneath it I was wearing the same maternity tank top I had in the last picture I took for you all of my belly.  Not that risque, but form fitting.  At the next stop, a man got on who was ruddy and hulking in appearance and reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.  I tried not to make eye contact, but he sat down right next to me...as in there were a ton of empty seats and he sat down so he could be in close contact with me.  There was no place for me to go because the stroller was blocking my way.  He looked at me and said, 'when are you due'?  I shortly answered, 'I have six more weeks' and continued to ignore him.  And THEN he reached out his hand and looked like he was going to try to touch Little G on the leg but instead changed direction and got within inches of my stomach while mumbling, "may I?".  I glared at him right in the eyes and said, "NO. YOU. MAY. NOT."  He pulled his hand back, thankfully, and I continued to face the other direction while using the eyes in the back of my head to be super aware of whether he was going to try to lunge after me or Little G or something.  Thankfully, he decided at the next stop to get up and move to the back of the bus and at some point he must have gotten off.  But EW. EW. EW. EW. EW.  What. a. creep.

The day did get marginally better.  Little G whined and moaned and screamed and complained the entire 25 minute bus ride, but 1/2 way into the ride my husband texted to see if I had an umbrella and suggested he could come meet me somewhere to pick us up.  I'm not sure he was expecting me to take him up on the offer, but I sooooooo did. So he met us at the veggie stand and we drove home.

Phew.  I seem to be attracting the crazies lately.  Gotta love city livin'!


  1. This (and your previous post) is exactly why I hardly go out anymore. :-) Hang in there — we only have 6 weeks left!

  2. That is something I was really surprised about when I was pregnant: being with child seems to lure all sorts of strange people out of the woodwork (as does having a baby in arms, actually). I suppose they mean to be nice but are so socially off that they can't quite manage it?